Hack-and-stack

Cobweb (2023)

Pity poor Peter (Woody Norman), an eight-year-old kid who just wants a decent night’s sleep, a life without bullies, and a normal mom and dad.

In Cobweb, we learn that Peter’s school days are spent hiding from evil classmate Brian (Luke Busey, a third-generation movie psycho), while his home life is watched over by his stern parents Carol (Lizzy Caplan) and Mark (Antony Starr), an odd, secretive couple who aren’t afraid to dish out severe punishments for being too curious.

The problem is, Peter is being kept awake at night by intermittent tapping in the walls and his freaky parents dismiss his concerns by telling him he has an overactive imagination!

Peter tries to enlist the help of Miss Devine (Cleopatra Cole), his new teacher, but her appearance at his home results in the lad getting locked in the creepy basement, where he makes further contact with someone else living in their house. Someone who develops a powerful hold over the lonely tyke.

Cobweb‘s rookie director Sam Bodin shows off a fully stocked cabinet of gothic panache, creating a nightmare landscape to rival Tim Burton, one that seems all but inescapable to our young protagonist.

Bodin and writer Chris Thomas Devlin understand a child’s limited worldview and what perceived threats can endanger it.

Question: Is it my imagination or does the creative team of this movie enjoy tormenting kids just a bit too much? In any case, Cobweb is a fiercely original film that should scare the bejesus out of any average, run-of-the-mill rugrat.

It’s not for them, anyway.

No One Will Save You (2023)

If you’re a fan of witty, acerbic dialogue, this won’t be your cup of tea.

Instead, No One Will Save You is a master class in visual storytelling from writer-director Brian Duffield (Underwater, The Babysitter, Love and Monsters) who puts his leading lady Kaitlyn Dever through one helluva wringer, all without a single word of exposition.

Through views both intimate and isolating, we meet Brynn Adams (Dever) a young woman with promising artistic talent who lives a solitary existence on the outskirts of town.

On the occasion when she ventures into her small community, it is quite apparent that Brynn is not a popular citizen, as her appearance invokes scorn and derision, all conveyed by a floating camera that hovers nearby like a curious housefly.

So who does Brynn turn to when she discovers that someone has broken into her house? What measures will the nervous girl with the bad reputation take when it appears her intruder is not of this world?

There’s barely a soundtrack to serve up emotional cues—mostly a few ominous Bernard Hermann orchestral swells—so we’re as surprised as Brynn when aliens shows up prowling her pad.

No One Will Save You sucks in the viewer like a Texas Twister from the opening frame. Brynn is a friendless, reluctant heroine with a tragic past who nonetheless steps up when her home is threatened by ambitious extraterrestrials.

For the majority of the running time, it appears that the thing to do is cheer for Brynn, and remain hopeful. This course of action gets increasingly difficult when Duffield zooms out from her personal combat to reveal the state of the rest of society.

Soon, the question becomes, why fight it? Maybe subjugation isn’t such a bad deal. It could even be an effective way to work through crippling anxiety and childhood trauma.

Filmmaker Duffield has fashioned something rather remarkable with No One Will Save You. It’s a silent, sci-fi, home invasion thriller with heavy implications for us to consider, that still manages to be big-ticket entertainment.

Are we the bad guys here? If we weren’t so freaked out about defending our castles, maybe we’d learn something.

Big-time recommendation from this terrestrial citizen.

Totally Killer (2023)

“I hate time-travel movies. They never make any sense.”

Capitalizing on the resiliency of the Happy Death Day films—and with plenty of references to the Back to the Future franchise—Totally Killer takes us on another time-tripping adventure, as wisecracking teen Jamie (Kiernan Shipka) travels back to the 1980s to keep a serial killer from hacking up her over-protective mother Pam (Julie Bowen, from Modern Family) in the present.

Director Nahnatchka Khan demonstrates considerable dexterity juggling tones throughout the movie. Though primarily played for laughs, there is valuable, life-affirming subtext as well as abundant gory bits baked into the Totally Killer cake.

And who can resist a bloody cake? Not me.

In the present day, Jamie Hughes (Shipka) is a surly high school student who’d rather worship the devil at a rock concert than stay home and hand out Halloween candy with Mommy.

Pam keeps a tight rein on Jamie, because her own friends were stabbed to death 36 years ago by the “Sweet 16 Killer,” a masked maniac who was never caught.

Imagine Jamie’s chagrin when she returns from the show to find Pam fatally perforated!

Jamie ain’t the brainiest girl in town, but it helps that her best friend Amelia (Kelcey Mawema) has a prototype time machine (inside a photo booth) ready to unveil at the science fair.

Through a set of wacky circumstances, Jamie winds up in the past having to babysit her mom (Olivia Holt) and her Mean Girl friends from a knife-wielding psycho in a Beavis mask.

At the same time, she is painfully aware that her actions in the past are likely to affect the future, so Jamie has no choice but to keep her parents from “hooking up” too early, lest she not be born.

Editor’s Note: People didn’t use the term “hook up” in the ’80s.

It sounds complicated, but fun is never far away in Totally Killer, and Shipka is very droll as a fish out of water who must find cultural references that people from the 1980s will understand.

It’s also a winner if you’re watching with someone who isn’t a horror fan, as the zesty mix of comedy and suspense will definitely win them over.

Dark Harvest (2023)

I’m going to make a bold prediction that Dark Harvest becomes a Halloween movie-night staple.

Alternately luminous and vicious, Dark Harvest is a captivating adaptation of Norman Partridge’s 2006 novel about a cursed small town that must destroy a local monster every time the calendar hits October 31.

In a seasonal swash of ultra violence, the legendary Sawtooth Jack, a pumpkin-headed demon, rises from the cornfield and is hunted by a posse of hungry high school boys. Jack must be killed before the church bells chime midnight, or the community will be plagued by storms and misfortune for an entire year.

It’s a tradition, you understand.

At harvest time, the boys from the local senior class are locked up for three days without food so they’re properly motivated to bring down Sawtooth Jack, a frightening and deadly foe that is nonetheless loaded with candy.

Director David Slade and writer Michael Gilio conjure magic, madness, and terror in a coming-of-age tale that pounces on the viewer like a midnight collaboration between Ray Bradbury (luminous) and Joe Lansdale (vicious)—with a bit of Hunger Games thrown in after some focus-group input.

Editor’s Note: The kids attend Bradbury High School.

Dark Harvest could have used more exposition and context, but the fevered sepia-toned sights of raving teenagers versus an uncanny enemy, is first-rate cinematic mayhem that actually does justice to its literary origins.

Make it a welcome addition to your annual festival of fright films, m’kay?

The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster (2023)

This creature has life! But what kind?

The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster is a powerhouse debut written and directed by USC film school grad, Bomani J. Story.

In another cross-stitching of Mary Shelley’s well-seasoned source material, we fade in on Vicaria (Laya DeLeon Hayes), a budding teen scientist from the ‘hood who’s just lost her older brother Chris (Edem Atsu-Swanzy) in a gang shooting.

Rather than grieve and move on, Vicaria decides to take matters into her own hands and bring him back from beyond. From her jerry-rigged laboratory in a condemned building she summons sufficient wattage to jolt Chris back to consciousness.

Oddly enough, her creation largely disappears into the woodwork, because Vicaria has plenty of other shit to deal with, namely working off a debt to Kango (Denzel Whittaker), the local drug lord that keeps her poor father (Chad C. Coleman) strung out.

The monster’s presence is often felt, particularly by Jada (Amani Summer), a chatty, precocious neighbor kid who seems quite up-to-date on its whereabouts.

Writer-director Story has fashioned a curious creature, the likes of which we haven’t seen before. While some plot developments don’t make much sense (e.g., Vicaria seems awfully into Kango, the guy who deals to her daddy), the look and feel of The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster pulses with an otherworldly glow and a fresh current of rage, not to mention a towering title character prowling the night in designer streetwear seeking revenge.

Or maybe he’s just looking for his home. In any event, he kills people.

Vicaria is the electricity that animates this action, and actress Laya DeLeon Hayes delivers high drama with a cool head. Here is a young woman that’s seen enough death for one lifetime—and does something about it, despite the endless obstacles placed in her path by institutional racism, classism, and sexism.

And if at first you don’t succeed in defeating death, try, try again, because hope springs eternal and shit.

Bodies, Bodies, Bodies (2022)

You think you know who your friends are? Would you bet your life on it?

Certainly the most frightening aspect of director Halina Reijn’s Bodies, Bodies, Bodies is that every relationship in a movie about lifelong friends under pressure is so damn fragile.

Or in some cases, nonexistent.

Sophie (Amandla Stenberg) is bringing her new girlfriend Bee (Maria Bakalova) to a magnificent mansion owned by the family of her best friend, Dave (Pete Davidson).

So there’s a hurricane brewing and a bunch of Richie Rich kids have the run of a big house. What could go wrong?

Everything!

While playing a game of Bodies, Bodies, Bodies, in which someone “kills” people in the dark, and the remaining players have to figure out whodunnit, Dave the host turns up with his throat cut.

There are seven remaining party guests—including one who isn’t present for most of the movie—and all it takes is one grisly corpse and abundant cocaine for a bunch of 20-somethings to turn on each other like rabid rats.

Outside a storm is raging. Inside, there are accusations, confessions, and pleas for mercy, followed by the thunk of more bodies hitting the floor.

The zeal with which these “friends” tear into each other could be blamed on the nose candy, but inevitably comes back around to the most obvious conclusion. Nobody knows anybody. Not that well.

If you’re just too ADD for Agatha Christie, Bodies, Bodies, Bodies should keep you guessing to the end, or at least till something shinier comes along.

Forest of Death (2023)

I have to admire the moxie of writer-director Brendan Rudnicki—aka, President and CEO of DBS Films—who doesn’t let little things like money get in the way of quick-hitting horror films like Forest of Death.

Weighing in at a lean 75 minutes, Rudnicki wastes no time with story arc, motivation, or any of that other fancy pants nonsense. It’s two basic-cable couples playing drinking games in the woods with a skinwalker/shapeshifter haunting the vicinity.

Despite a predictable premise and a shortage of dramatic talent, there are moments in Forest of Death where the total is greater than the sum of its cheapo parts, and Rudnicki makes his crude puppet show dance and caper.

Make no mistake, this movie doesn’t dawdle, placing the protagonists in danger within 10 minutes of the opening credits. Even so, Rudnicki feels confident enough to include two cheerful, upbeat musical interludes of his nondescript characters enjoying a few rousing rounds of gin rummy.

There is very little creature action, since the evil spirit can assume any form, which is another handy budget-saving device employed by the resourceful Rudnicki.

Once the skinwalker has infiltrated the cabin, it’s only a matter of time before the dominos start falling, and friends turn on each other. The question each viewer must answer for themselves is how much nutritional value can be derived from such a thoroughly chewed bone?

When there’s no meat, you make soup. Forest of Death is strictly warmed-over leftovers.

I was passably entertained, but no one will be blown away by loads of fresh ideas. As a resumé builder for Brendan Rudnicki, though, it’s a statement of purpose.

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.

Significant Other (2022)

Camping makes everything worse. Debate me.

If you’re a real horror fan, you know it’s true. Significant Other is just another case study in the facts of life.

Written and directed by Dan Berk and Robert Olson, the movie also offers relationship advice on how not to upset your boyfriend when he’s been body snatched by an alien scout checking out Earth as a possible invasion site.

Harry (Jake Lacy) convinces his anxiety ridden girlfriend Ruth (Maika Monroe) to go on a camping and hiking weekend. The communication between Harry, a hearty, upbeat outdoorsman, and his dour partner is not good.

For the first quarter of the movie, Harry ignores and dismisses every word from Ruth, which leads to a really awkward marriage proposal that puts a damper on the campers.

Ruth storms off to be alone. Harry goes for a walk to clear his head. Both make discoveries of the Third Kind, and when they meet up again, they’re not the same people.

Harry plays host to an alien consciousness, and is as surprised as anyone that his feelings for Ruth are complicating his mission.

Significant Other almost ventures into romantic comedy territory, because this relationship turns toxic in a big way, leading to a modest blood bath. Harry falls off a cliff, gets eaten by a shark, and has his head smashed into pudding, but he’s harder to kill than a cockroach.

Finally, Ruth ends up in Harry’s shoes and seemingly outwits the cosmic conqueror, making her getaway. It’s a small victory, as it turns out, because like shitty boyfriends, there are always plenty of invaders to go around.

Recommended? You betcha.

Super Dark Times (2017)

I’d heard Super Dark Times compared to Stand By Me, but it reminds me more of a much grimmer movie that came out the same year (1986), Tim Hunter’s River’s Edge.

Known primarily as a launching pad for a young Keanu Reeves, it also came with barking mad performances from Dennis Hopper and Crispin Glover.

All three movies speak volumes about adolescent friendships put under stress by the presence of a dead body.

The resemblance to Stand By Me seems deliberate. At first glance, Super Dark Times appears to take place in one of those Stephen King-like clouds of sunny nostalgia based some time in the 1990s.

Boys on their bicycles, clunky portable phones with Walkie Talkie antennas, and a TV appearance by Bill Clinton anchor us firmly in the appropriate decade, much like Donnie Darko’s sister declaring her intent to vote for Michael Dukakis.

Zach (Owen Campbell) and Josh (Charlie Tahan) are high school best buds whiling away their virgin years in a small rural town that looks Norman Rockwell on the surface, with a noticeable David Lynch underbelly.

Their lives are mostly innocent fun punctuated with declarations of impending boy horniness until a terrible mishap claims the life of Daryl (Max Talisman), a pain-in-the-ass acquaintance whom no one wanted to hang out with in the first place.

Everyone agrees it was an accident that led to Daryl’s bleeding to death, and the decision is quickly made to bury his stupid body and play dumb.

Indeed, it’s the day-to-day mundanity of the average teen that director Ken Phillips and writers Luke Piotrowski and Ben Collins, get exactly right, to the point where we actually care about Zach’s budding relationship with dream girl Allison (Elizabeth Cappucino).

However, this isn’t a John Hughes film, either. Zach cannot be redeemed by love and Josh loses his way entirely.

Once the closest of friends, Zach and Josh now view each other with increasing suspicion, that builds fiendishly low and slow.

Josh becomes angry and distant while Zach can’t sleep due to vivid nightmares about their dark deed.

The inability of friends to trust each other with a hideous secret dooms the relationship and leads to an unexpectedly bloody finale, one that slays any notion of Super Dark Times taking place in a benign Stephen King universe.

More like Dateline with Keith Morrison.

SDT is a superb, riveting thriller as well as a brutally harsh coming-of-age story, with young protagonists that have yet to develop a moral center.

Enthusiastic recommendation from this corner. I ate it up like Junior Mints.