Monsters

Extinction (2015)

The wife and I came upon Extinction quite by accident while lost in the dense forest of Roku.

She screamed three times, so you know it’s scary.

In a frozen future, Jack (Jeffrey Donovan, Burn Notice, Fargo) and Patrick (Matthew Fox, Lost, Bone Tomahawk) are survivors of an infectious plague that reduced humanity to savage, bloodthirsty zombiedom.

Fortunately, the nuclear winter (?) that ensued, allowed Jack, Patrick, and Jack’s daughter Lu (Quinn McColgan) to build a secure compound in the tiny town of Harmony.

These are not basic cardboard characters. Jack is relentlessly protective of Lu, who’s mother died from an infected bite. He rarely acknowledges Patrick, only referring to him as “Neighbor.”

They work independently: Jack trains Lu in the art of survival, and Patrick forages on his snowmobile for supplies, broadcasts distress signals and loud rock music from his home radio station, and then drinks himself unconscious.

There is overwhelming evidence of bad blood between Patrick and Jack, and Lu can’t fathom her father’s animosity toward their reclusive provider, the only other person in existence, as far we know.

Despite Jack’s optimism that the monsters that munched mom all froze to death, a new threat arises in the form of agile, blind, albino zombies that have their own set of rules and behavior.

And they’re coming this way!

Spanish director/co-writer Miguel Angel Vivas makes the most of the Hungarian countryside location, contrasting the blinding snowy nights hiding horrid creatures that blend into the landscape, with vistas of glorious mornings worthy of inspirational postcards.

I took this as a promising omen. Perhaps all is not lost, though with a title like Extinction, one can be forgiven for expecting the worst.

The film also works as a well-intentioned metaphor for the necessity of estranged parents to put aside their issues and come together for the sake of the kid.

Or she might get eaten.

Extinction is a genuine post-apocalyptic jewel, conceived by a confident craftsman and executed by a superb cast.

Trigger warning: Dog doesn’t make it.

The Last Voyage of the Demeter (2023)

Dracula’s all-inclusive cruise to London doesn’t actually include the crew, but he paid for extra eats, so he’s entitled to certain liberties at mealtime.

Based on the Captain’s Log portion of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, director André Ovredal (The Autopsy of Jane Doe, Troll Hunter, Scary Stories To Tell in the Dark) pipes us aboard for The Last Voyage of the Demeter, as the good ship and its sturdy sailors transport mysterious crates of soil from the Black Sea to England, circa 1897.

Our protagonist Clemens (Corey Hawkins) is a Cambridge-educated black doctor who lands a high-paying job among the small crew of The Demeter, led by Captain Eliot (Liam Cunningham) and his able first, Wojchek (David Dastmalchian)

Clemens, an able hand with a keen mind, discovers a stowaway in the person of Anna (Aisling Franciosi), an anemic young girl boxed away in one of the crates of dirt and attempts to revive her using transfusions of his own blood.

Anna did not buy a ticket nor did she sneak onboard of her own accord. She was part of the cargo to feed a VIP guest in the hold. Needless to say the guest is not amused by her removal, and so begins a terror campaign against a rapidly shrinking squad of swabbies.

The crusty crew has no idea what they’re up against, and it’s only Clemens, the social outcast, that refuses to give in to fear and superstition, reasoning that if the thirsty creature can bleed, it can also die.

The Last Voyage of the Demeter does what it’s supposed to do—bring the darkness and ramp up the tension of being trapped at sea with an impossible predator breathing down your neck.

It’s not comforting, just ask Chief Brody. Can also be used in outer space!

The inability of the seamen to find the vampire during daylight hours is a troubling detail as is the accelerated transformation of Anna from feedbag to formidable fighter.

Even so, the winged vampire effects and indeed the creepy, creaky look and feel of this voyage of the damned are first-class all the way. Ovredal has us booked as reluctant passengers witnessing a terrible, unnatural nautical calamity.

Remember the old saying, “Worse things happen at sea?” It’s true.

Trigger Warning! Ship’s dog Huckleberry doesn’t make it.

Horror Castle (1963)

Get used to the sight of Mary Hunter (Rossana Podesta) wandering the grounds of a gloomy castle in a blue nightgown, accompanied by a heavy handed James Bond-style jazz score that erupts whether the scene calls for embellishment or not.

Welcome to Horror Castle, aka The Virgin of Nuremberg, directed by versatile veteran Antonio Margheriti (Castle of Blood, The Long Hair of Death, Cannibal Apocalypse).

Mary, the new bride of Max Hunter (Georges Riviere), moves into his family’s ancestral estate in Germany, an imposing edifice loaded with bad juju, thanks to the legacy of Max’s maniac ancestor, The Punisher, who tortured local girls he suspected of sinful behavior.

In straight Rebecca fashion, Max has business elsewhere for much of the movie, leaving Mary in the care of Erich (Christopher Lee) a scarred and taciturn family retainer, and Martha (Laura Nucci) the morose, stoned-faced housekeeper.

If you’re one of those folks that can’t get enough gothic atmosphere and macabre accoutrements, Horror Castle is littered with skulls, secret passages, and vintage torture devices that are still kept in fine working order.

It’s a bit of a stretch, but Marheriti tries to make a case for the monster of the house, a sadistic freak skulking about in executioner garb (Mirko Valentin) being a sympathetic character, since he was himself disfigured by fiendish Nazi surgeons to resemble a skull.

However, eliciting pity for a guy that stuffs a woman into an Iron Maiden, and torments another with a hungry rat loosed on her face is a mighty tall order.

Maybe next time.

I wish Horror Castle rated a definitive restoration, because the version I saw had been heavily edited and dubbed in English to the point of absurdity. Even so, it’s a tingly tour in a creepy ass location, with the enchanting Rossana Podesta guiding us by candlelight.

Trust me, there are worse ways to spend a dark and stormy night.

If you can handle the rough edges of budget constraints and decaying filmstock, Horror Castle sustains an eerie charm, with all its roads leading straight to the torture chamber.

Watch your step!

The Barge People (2018)

London filmmaker Charlie Steeds is earning a reputation as a British Roger Corman, grinding out low budget shockers with machine-like efficiency, as we saw in Freeze, his community theater version of a doomed polar expedition.

In The Barge People, Steeds crams scraps and trimmings from Wrong Turn, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Humanoids From the Deep, and The Hills Have Eyes into a Turducken tale of hungry amphibian mutants living in the nasty waters of England’s canal boat system.

Kat (Kate Davies-Speak) and her sweetheart Mark (Mark McKirdy) rent a canal boat for a bucolic weekend with her sister Sophie (Natalie Martens) and toffy-nosed boyfriend Ben (Matt Swales).

It doesn’t take long for snobby Ben to rub everyone the wrong way, including a feral couple living on their own barge that gets sideswiped thanks to Ben’s nonexistent navigation skills.

Before we can settle into a rousing chorus of Dumb City Kids vs Rural Ruffians, a pack of scaly predators board the tiny ship and start gnawing away on everybody in sight.

This forces Kat to strike up an uneasy alliance with Jade (Makenna Guyler), one of the boat invaders, to rescue Mark from captivity, that’s undermined by their mutual distrust of each other’s social class.

“I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth,” Jade sneers. “You’re on your own.”

When confronted with a boatload of hostile monsters, Ben somewhat whimsically offers to buy them off with a deposit of $5,000 pounds into their bank account.

Ben didn’t get the assignment.

Once again, Steeds manages to offset his lack of funds with a commitment to create something reasonably fresh, and the timeless wonder of the English countryside helps considerably.

The Barge People features vegetarian gore, with not much meat to go with all the sauce, but serves as another reminder that no one should ever go anywhere for a relaxing weekend, other than back to bed.

Stay at home and read a book. You’ll live longer.

Wind and Bone (2024)

The problem with Algonquin cannibal spirits is they never know wendigo.

In Wind and Bone, budget-conscious filmmakers Michael Tuthill and Kevin Troy drop us in the wild woods of West Virginia, where a carload of reasonably attractive campers decide to pick up Sierra (Julie Kashmanian), a reasonably attractive hitchhiker stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Lacking any sort of excuse, Sierra accepts an invitation from Alistair (Eric Henderson) to join his friends at a nearby cabin in the woods to celebrate a possible proposal from alpha dickhead, Jeff (Joshua Cody) to April (Alex Cody).

Along for the ride is Curtis (Guy Wellman), a Native American guide, who’s only there for seasonal work, and proves to be less than capable when the company is marked for destruction by a local legend that feeds on pain and misery

“I thought you were supposed to be an expert tracker,” Jeff growls.

“I’m from the Burbs, bro,” Curtis confesses.

Let the body count commence!

Only Sierra, the stranger in their midst seems to have the fortitude to fight back, as her newfound camping buddies succumb to a host of attacks by the creature itself, and each other under the wendigo’s malign influence.

Tuthill and Troy wisely elect to go with practical creature effects, pasting an elk-horn helmet on a handy stuntman as a reminder that there is, in fact, a monster on the loose. Periodically we hear it whispering in the trees.

Yes, West Virginia, there is a wendigo.

There are antlers all over the place in Wind and Bone, hanging from trees and peeping around the shrubbery. Thanks to the success of The Ritual, based on the Adam Nevill novel, antlers have become the ubiquitous symbol of folk horror, much like tentacles indicate the presence of Lovecraftian cosmic horror.

Wind and Bone is not nearly as good a movie as The Ritual, but it’s good enough for a fast folk horror fix.

Lee Cronin’s The Mummy (2026)

So where’s the mummy?

I can’t help but notice that anyone attempting to resurrect the mummy monster concept avoids the subject. Oh sure, we get Egyptian set dressing, maybe a fez or two from down Cairo way, but there are a distinct lack of bandaged baddies bringing undead justice from the tomb.

Lee Cronin’s The Mummy (not to be confused with Abbott & Costello Meet the Mummy) is an awkward mix of family drama and occult investigation with all the blood and guts you can eat thrown in at no extra charge.

The story is all over the map to the point where we can’t remember if they’re in Egypt or New Mexico. Oh well, both locales have sand and rocks aplenty.

While stationed in Cairo, TV reporter Charlie Cannon (Jack Raynor, who looks like Seth Rogan’s health-conscious cousin) loses track of his daughter Katie (Natalie Grace) after she’s spirited away by a mysterious woman (Hayat Kamille).

Eight years later, the Cannons are numbing through their shattered lives in Albuquerque, when they are notified that Katie has been found living in a basalt sarcophagus.

Kids today! Am I right?

With no fanfare or preparation, the mostly nonverbal Katie is re-homed with Charlie, his long-suffering wife, Larissa (Laia Costa), invisible son (Shylo Molina), and new daughter Maud (Billie Roy).

From a catatonic cocoon, a new Katie messily emerges, shedding layers of skin at every turn in order to reveal herself as … a possessed murderous child!

Thud.

Irish filmmaker Lee Cronin (Evil Dead Rise, The Hole in the Ground) takes way too long to tell the tale, and the occasional grisly scene or splashy murder is only a reminder that there’s still lots of movie to go, much of it painted in familiar Raimi Day colors.

It’s not all bad news, by any means. Lee Cronin’s The Mummy offers damn fine freaky details and artisan-level craft in its depiction of an ancient curse that just keeps getting grimmer and grosser.

I dare you to watch it and not say “ewww” at least once or twice.

At a running time of two hours and thirteen minutes, you’ll have ample opportunity to admire Cronin’s technique and taste level in creating a competent creature feature, even though we don’t know whether to call a cop or an exorcist.

But you know what? I still miss my Mummy.

Widow’s Bay (2026)

If you’re late to the game, Widow’s Bay has been picked up for a second season by Apple TV! Hooray!

Fright fans are flocking to Widow’s Bay and with good reason. It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet of small-town terrors that somehow walks the finest line between horror and comedy imaginable.

Even the choice of font used in the title (Horror Paperback?) smells authentic to my nose.

Matthew Rhys (The Americans) is inspirational as Tom Loftis, the beleaguered mayor of the titular island town that may well be the most heavily cursed real estate on the East Coast.

His job, trying to get the island’s populace to tone down the spook talk while entertaining prosperous tourists proves an impossible task, but a highly amusing one.

Loftis does his darndest to disavow and debunk the many, many legends that plague Widow’s Bay, but soon realizes he’s in over his head against witches, hags, ghosts, undead killers, haunted fog, and an entire town of charming eccentrics that seem to be better informed on occult matters than he is.

Tom’s trusty assistant Patricia (Kate O’Flynn, who steals scenes, left and right), survived a murderous rampage by local maniac the Boogeyman, while she was a teenager, but finds him back in her life as an adult.

Lonely Patricia feels guilt about the girls who died, wondering why she was spared. The learning of lessons and the potential for personal growth amidst the vivid nightmare scenarios gives Widow’s Bay an extra gear, as we cheer Patricia’s steely determination in dealing with an uncanny enemy.

The third pivotal character is Wyck (Stephen Root), a, crusty, but well-read fisherman with a head full of arcane knowledge, including harrowing details of the original curse that befell Widow’s Bay hundreds of years ago.

There are satchels of intriguing subplots in the mix, but the one that affects everyone is the matter of whether or not you were born on the island—and what happens to people who try to leave.

Widow’s Bay is a big bowl of mystery with enough ghoulish garnish to tickle the fancy of folks in search of their next quality horror hang.

Series creator Katie Dippold is a former Parks and Rec writer, and clearly has a knack for birthing oddball and outré citizens that somehow steal our hearts.

Looking forward to Season 2, but a rewatch of the first is recommended. Lots of stuff going on here.

Life (2017)

Less.

Lifeless would be a more accurate title.

Even with Jake Gyllenhaal, Rebecca Ferguson, and Ryan Reynolds attached as astronauts in distress, this one never reaches orbit, and instead achieves only minimal trajectory.

Six crew members on the International Space Station discover a single-cell organism among recent samples from Mars. What starts out as a wondrous moment, the meeting of intelligent life forms, quickly becomes another bug hunt, when everyone freaks out.

The astronauts get popped off one by one, as the rapidly adaptable alien known as Calvin, decides the crew is expendable.

The creature effects are decent, giving Calvin a gliding tadpole-starfish-octopoid fluidity through the thin atmosphere as it chases down its prey.

Unfortunately, it’s not frightening, so there’s little tension at play, even as the two survivors race for the escape pods on a space station that’s set for self destruction.

As silver linings go, Life is at least good to look at. The modeling and effects techs do a bang-up job. The International Space Station registers strongly as both a vast and miraculous piece of technology, and a potential tomb that’s getting smaller all the time.

To his credit, director Daniel Espinosa handles the effects deftly, but the script by Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick is a lemon, unfolding in all-too-familiar fashion—with one exception.

The end of Life is not a happy one. Is it worth sitting through the rest for a mighty grim payoff?

I’m trending negative on this issue.

What Lives Here (2024)

Nice to have something to fall back on.

What Lives Here, a gore-strewn bloodbath about a hapless moving company hired to clear out a haunted house, is co-written (along with his wife Michele), directed, and starring New Jersey construction boss Troy Burbank, who deserves mention alongside other inspired dilettante filmmakers.

I can’t help but think of Harold P. Warren, the Texas fertilizer salesman responsible for Manos: The Hands of Fate, for instance, or welder Anthony Cardoza partnering up with Coleman Francis to make stupefying entertainment like The Beast of Yucca Flats (1961) and Red Zone Cuba (1966).

For a paltry $25,000, Burbank and a bunch of his friends filmed in and around the Strauss Mansion in Atlantic Highlands for 10 days and the result is What Lives Here, a movie that takes its sweet time about getting anywhere, but erupts with enough bloody mayhem to justify its existence.

There is a story here, about evil twins escaping from a mental hospital and taking up residence in the very house that Lee Duncan (Jeff Swanton) and his band of blue-collar boobs are scheduled to clean out.

But let’s not rush into anything. First, Duncan and his men have to drive from Pennsylvania to New Jersey for the job. This means stopping at a crummy dive bar to eat cheeseburgers for like eight minutes.

One character uses this opportunity to “go take a piss.” And the camera follows him!

Then they arrive at the mansion, and immediately leave again to go get something to eat, leading to another long sequence of beer drinking and crap dialogue.

Meanwhile, a delivery man and a nosy teen stop by and fall victim to one of the murderous grannies running amok in the old house that also very obviously serves as a local historical society, since there are glass display cases and newspaper clippings in every room!

The movers themselves and the Barfly Bettys they meet at the second bar and bring home to be eviscerated, are beer-swilling, working-class zeroes that have nothing on their minds but sex, food, and a paycheck, by gawd.

In other words, easy pickings for old ladies in their nightgowns. Indeed, the deaths carry What Lives Here, as the makeup effects of bodies being hammered, stabbed, and sliced, are actually worth sitting through the abundant blue-collar B-roll.

Even a construction boss director knows you’ve got to deliver the gross goods, or get outta the horror business.

Outpost (2008)

Somewhere in Eastern Europe, government forces are battling insurgents in an unending cycle of carnage.

In Outpost, Hunt (Julian Wadham), a determined financier employs mercenary captain DC (Ray Stevenson) and a band of “hired swords” to accompany him on a hazardous mission to retrieve a piece of Nazi hardware from an underground compound.

Shortly after securing the site, the soldiers find themselves under attack by an unseen enemy, one that can seemingly appear and disappear at will, which makes for a very nervous company.

Meanwhile, Hunt has found his infernal device, risking life and limb to jumpstart an ancient contraption in order to control undead Nazi hordes that are rapidly regrouping on the ground floor.

“You said that that machine of yours was made to control them?” DC shouts at Hunt.

“Not control, contain,” Hunt says. “But they obviously got the maths wrong.”

Director and cowriter Steve Barker correctly understands that Germany’s rumored use of occult practices toward the end of the war is a well-stocked pond of possibilities, and makes the most of it.

After a slow start, Outpost gains momentum as the mercenaries realize they’re up against an opponent beyond their comprehension—an army of teleporting super soldiers that have held their position since the end of the Second World War.

Fortunately, they aren’t advancing. Yet.