Monsters – Page 4

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.

Off Season (2021)

Old School creepy goes a long way in my book. I’m always in the mood for an immersive plunge into nightmare waters.

Off Season is Old School creepy, a diabolical downward spiral with definite shades of Carnival of Souls and Dead and Buried tellingly layered into a Lovecraftian landscape.

Writer-director Mickey Keating, a former Blumhouse intern, has manifested another one of those damned tourist trap towns that visitors find impossible to leave behind.

Marie (Jocelin Donahue) is the daughter of reclusive actress Ava Aldrich (Melora Walters), who recently passed away and was laid to rest on the small coastal island where she grew up.

Funny thing, before she died, Ava told her daughter specifically to not allow her body to be buried there.

Funnier thing: Two lawyers she’s never met inform Marie that her mother changed her will, and that she wanted to be buried on the island.

Shortly thereafter, Marie receives a mysterious letter from the caretaker of the cemetery instructing her to come at once to address the recent vandalism of Ava’s grave.

Once she and her whiny husband George (Joe Swanberg) arrive on the island, the trap springs shut and the real nightmare can begin. Marie discovers the community is a hotbed of pagan idolatry and that many years before the villagers made a deal with “a man who came from the sea.”

Off Season comes foggily shrouded in a fatalistic sense of inevitability that dwarfs our petty terrestrial concerns, offering us a glimpse of life everlasting.

And we all lived happily ever after in thrall to Cthulhu, or someone like him. Well, maybe not so happily. Let’s say creepily.

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.

Underwater (2020)

Kristen Stewart tries to escape from the bottom of the ocean (seven miles down!) in Underwater, a movie that looks and sounds a bit like Alien, but isn’t nearly as good.

Kudos to director William Eubank for getting things off to a hot start with an earthquake that cripples a deepwater drilling operation in the Mariannes Trench.

This handy disaster introduces us to Norah Price (K-Stew), a plucky technician with a strong survival instinct. Norah and a handful of crew members (including Vincent Cassell as the captain), begin a long, arduous quest to reach another part of the failing facility in their pressure suits.

To complicate matters, there are also chittering, tentacled sea creatures, led by a Cthulhu-esque Big Daddy, making passage exceedingly difficult for the stranded aquanauts.

Despite achieving some tight claustrophobic moments, and devoting a generous block of screen-time to Norah strolling about the wreckage in her knickers, Underwater never really rises to the occasion, settling for stock characters in danger from an unknown species and unstable tectonics.

While there is some attempt to add “heart” to the narrative by having Norah dutifully collect mementos from her fallen comrades in order to have something for their families, it reads trite and maudlin.

Without giving away all the particulars of the ending, watching Norah fight so valiantly on behalf of her corporate overlords in an environment they shouldn’t have violated in the first place, leaves a bad aftertaste.

As for the unknown species, Norah wisely obliterates it.

“What a bunch of colonialist, slash and burn bullshit,” my wife complained during the credits. “Yes, by all means, let’s nuke the ocean.”

Leave this one in Davy Jones Locker next to DeepStar Six.

Howl (2015)

If you’re in the market for a pretty good werewolf movie, Howl should do the trick.

It’s an understated thriller, low budget, definitely second billing on a double feature, but effective, efficient storytelling with proper levels of suspense, blood, and carnage.

A British passenger train chugging through the forest is waylaid by an obstruction on the tracks. Joe (Ed Speelers), a fed-up conductor responsible for the safety and welfare of less than a dozen riders, is tasked with finding out what went wrong.

From the looks of things, plenty.

The engineer is missing and there seems to be a large stag tangled in the train’s undercarriage. It’s a full moon and howling can be heard moving closer to the crippled choo-choo.

Most of Howl takes place on the train, where disgruntled passengers ignore Joe’s safety protocols, much to their detriment. Alliances form and crumble as the beast(s) seek to gain entrance and have a quick bite.

Horror Survival Pro Tip: Join forces. There are safety in numbers, a theorem proven correct as the trapped train commuters brutally gang stomp a werewolf into tomato sauce.

As is usually the case, when the group fragments under pressure the slaughter begins in earnest. Conductor Joe does his employers proud, trying till the very end to save lives, but the lad is in over his head.

Directed by Paul Hyett and written by Mark Huckerby and Nick Ostler, Howl is played absolutely straight. There are no subtle genre references, no in-jokes, nothing of the sort.

It’s a train under attack by werewolves! A story as old as time. There’s even a romantic subplot. All aboard!

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.

The Howling (1981)

I had an old friend crashing on my couch for the night so we decided to watch something horrific. After complaining about the paucity of decent werewolf features, we came upon The Howling, and the poor slob confessed to never having seen it.

Well, that settles that.

Plucky Los Angeles TV anchorwoman Karen White (Dee Wallace) has caught the eye of local serial killer Eddie Quist (Robert Picardo), who phones her to arrange a classy tryst at a local porn theater.

Of course, the police have Karen wired so they can capture the maniac. Sadly, surveillance technology is still in its infancy and the cops lose contact with the nervous reporter.

Eddie is gunned down but Karen can’t remember anything about their deadly encounter at the dirty movie house.

In order to dredge up every lurid detail of her trauma, renowned psychiatrist Dr. George Waggner (Patrick Macnee) recommends Karen and her husband Bill (Christopher Stone) take a restful vay-kay at his coastal retreat, The Colony.

There they meet Slim Pickens, John Carradine, James Murtaugh, and Elisabeth Brooks, all of whom are probably werewolves.

“Join us Karen! It feels wonderful!”

The Howling is a fantastic werewolf movie, maybe the best one. The only problem is, it came out the same year as An American Werewolf in London, which is generally acknowledged as the apex of the lycanthrope genre.

Granted, AAWiL is a terrific film, and special effects wizard Rick Baker’s transformation makeup hasn’t been equalled in over 40 years. Baker was also an effects consultant on The Howling, but the man in charge was Rob Bottin (The Thing, Total Recall, Fight Club), a man with a resume nearly as impressive as Baker’s.

In other words, prosthetics on both wolf and victim in The Howling totally shred.

Director Joe Dante and screenwriter John Sayles bring a keen combination of wit and irreverence to the shaggy subject matter, mainly in the person of occult bookstore owner Walter Paisley (Dick Miller), who, when asked if he believes in the supernatural, replies, “What am I? An idiot? I’m trying to make a buck here.”

Cameos by Roger Corman, Forrest J. Ackerman, and Sayles himself should keep the film school nerds energized, and everyone else will be sated by premium werewolf carnage.

Note: There are a bunch of Howling sequels and I might revisit a few, to ensure I didn’t miss anything.

Freeze (2022)

Well, let’s see you make a tale of Arctic terror on a microscopic budget!

Written and directed by Charlie Steeds (Winterskin, Death Ranch), a MetFilm grad with an abiding love of bygone horror tropes, Freeze is a Lovecrafty pastiche of Victorian Era exploration that bravely demands your attention, despite being financed by old soda bottles.

Captain Roland Mortimer (Rory Wilton) charts his warship the HMS Innsmouth (hint) to the North Pole in search of his best friend, William Streiner (Tim Cartwright), a fellow sea captain who disappeared two years before in search of a passage through the ice.

It doesn’t take long for the Innsmouth to get frozen in the ice and set upon by Deep Ones, so Mortimer and his intrepid crew of a half-dozen men abandon ship and try their luck on the frozen tundra.

The Arctic region isn’t very large, so Mortimer and company soon discover a massive cave containing a few stiffs from Streiner’s earlier voyage. After that, they discover Streiner himself, who has gone native and joined forces with the so-called “Icthyoids” in a vague scheme of world domination.

All he needs to lead his baggy suited fishmen to victory is his copy of The Necronomicon, which Mortimer thoughtfully provides.

Freeze is old, old-time entertainment that would have worked just as well as a radio play accompanied by scary sound effects and a wheezy organ. Of course, then we’d miss grotty details like Streiner biting his best friend’s fingers off, and admittedly, that’s a fun scene.

Steeds cheerfully peppers the proceedings with DIY practical effects that any Dr. Who fan would endorse, particularly the pesky Icthyoids, who resemble a Sleestack dance company when appearing en masse.

So what can we really say about Freeze? Campy enthusiasm and resourceful story telling can still save the day, if you agree to meet them halfway.

The Cursed (2021)

Lovely to look at but largely bereft of beast, The Cursed, written and directed by Sean Ellis, can’t decide if it’s a werewolf movie or a period piece homage to The Thing.

In true egalitarian fashion, we get a smattering of each, leaving both camps less than satisfied.

Seamus Laurent (Alistair Petrie) is a 19th-century French landowner with a passel of problems. While slaughtering a band of gypsies who’ve taken up residence on his property, Laurent gets a horrible hex placed on him by a dying witch, who doesn’t appreciate being buried alive.

The local children immediately start having bad dreams about an evil mouth of silver teeth, supposedly constructed from the 30 pieces of silver that Judas was paid to betray Jesus.

Kids being kids, they find the enchanted teeth, start horsing around with them, and Edward (Max Mackintosh), Laurent’s son, gets bitten. Soon after, mutilated bodies begin turning up, and a visiting pathologist (Boyd Holbrook) is called in to investigate.

The Cursed is sturdily constructed and painterly pretty, but Ellis uses such a muted color palette, his framing dexterity often gets overlooked. Each set is either engulfed in fog or we get buckets of brown mud and green turf, so as to appear especially dreary. Visual monotony ensues.

And then there’s his cavalier attitude toward lycanthropy. Surviving victims of Edward’s rampage transform with tendrils emerging from their backside. Tendrils? Where did they come from? Is this Lon Chaney or Lovecraft?

Furthermore, the werewolf CGI isn’t anything special when it finally appears. Rick Baker’s seven Oscars are not in danger of being eclipsed by this bunch.

Even so, The Cursed isn’t a terrible movie, but it’s slow, overly talky, and there are way too many scenes of people waking up from nightmares. Turns out the dreams are the scariest part, unfortunately.

Editor’s Note: This is the second disappointing werewolf movie I’ve seen with this title. The 2004 Wes Craven-Kevin Williamson feature with Christina Ricci is also a dud.