Film Review: SOUTHBOUND

 

Anthology films are notoriously difficult. Balancing the tone, theme, characters, and transitions can overwhelm any director, let alone four at once. When done well, though, these works are brilliantly entertaining – especially in horror. We’re lucky to have another classic in 2016. Take a ride to Hell in this year’s SOUTHBOUND.

Fresh from Toronto’s Midnight Madness section and helmed by four different directors (most veterans from 2012’s VHS), this collection of stories is all set on a mysterious road deep in the Southwest. Each of the tales revolves around this strange netherworld, and their characters all find themselves trapped there – two men on the run from wraiths, a rock band who ask for help from the wrong family, a man who has to save a woman’s life in an abandoned hospital, a crazed man searching for his lost sister. These unwitting souls confront all manner of demons, monsters and madness, just off the map.

The world of this film is astoundingly creepy and fun. It’s a deformed lovechild of Rod Serling, John Carpenter, and perhaps a dash of Flannery O’Connor – brewed in a pot of metaphysical, weird-fiction terror. “Carnival of Souls” plays on several screens throughout the stories, which gives a hint of the rules in this world – there are none. It’s unapologetically weird, and it oozes uncomfortable dread, something most horror films can’t claim. The filmmakers know how to make the viewer feel just a little bit off. So you’re scared before the mayhem even begins.

It helps, too, that each of the stories features a character who we care about (at least, I did). The writers create authentic humans with flaws and quirks, and they develop them with rapid skill. Cliches are also hard to find. That is part of the weirdness – whatever a ‘normal’ film would do, this one blatantly swerves around, or does with such bravado that it’s shocking anyway. Horror cinema rarely sees such a unique, insane universe.

I am not surprised to find out that the folks at Dark Sky Films, who brought us modern classics like “The House of the Devil” and “We Are Still Here,” are involved in this release. Larry Fessenden himself voices a sinister radio host who introduces each segment a la Mr. Serling. Like many of their offerings, this one feels retro, but it’s also rooted in our modern world, cleverly using cell phones (that actually work) and avoiding gender stereotypes. The characters are contemporary, but the nightmare is an amalgamation of 70s strangeness, 50s music and 40s wardrobe. It fits into the Dark Sky canon beautifully – and we can only hope that company will continue to make such brilliant genre pieces.

Though it is a limited release, if you can’t find it in a theater, get to it through the Internet – it’s a must-see for fans of classic horror from any decade. It’s bizarre, funny, ultra-bloody, and legitimately frightening. Turn on the ignition and drive down this dark road.

“On the Way Home” Published in 9TALES TOLD IN THE DARK #9

Delayed but good news from the grave!

On January 22nd, my original short story ON THE WAY HOME was published in 9 TALES TOLD IN THE DARK #9.

The story examines the uncanny mundanity of the suburbs as a boy gets lost on his way home, but soon finds that beneath normality lurks the greatest monsters. (Inspired by an incident when I did indeed get lost in a suburb where everything looked the same.)

CLICK HERE to read “On the Way Home,” along with many others!

Films That Haunt Me (Halloween Edition): DEAD OF NIGHT

Happy 2^nd of October! Continuing on the theme of the month, I present the first of our Halloween-themed Films That Haunt Me.

When we think of classic horror from the 30’s and 40’s, we tend to recall the Universal monsters or Val Lewton’s psychological thrillers. My personal favorite from that era is a far cry from any of these offerings. Ahead of its time, brilliantly written, and ultimately, surprisingly terrifying, today we discuss DEAD OF NIGHT.

This is perhaps one of the earliest anthology films, and it’s clear how it set the standard for the ones to come. It is structured around a house full of people, gathered for an undisclosed purpose, telling stories of their encounters with the supernatural – all to soothe the fears of a man who repeatedly dreams that he murders someone. Each story mounts in deadliness and terror, until the line between fiction and reality is blurred, then obliterated.

It’s tragic that this film isn’t more readily available. Once you’ve seen it, you recognize how heavily it’s influenced everything else in the genre – from the Twilight Zone to Creepshow to any psychological-surreal horror out there. And it was made decades before most of its tropes were made standard. There’s creepy dreams, undead plot twists, one hell of an evil dummy, and a tremendously unsettling ending. I had a vague idea of what the film was when I sat down to watch it, and I did not expect it to frighten me so much. Subsequent viewings have not lessened that effect.

What makes this film truly remarkable for me is the circumstance under which it was created. A British studio struggling to survive after World War II decides to make a horror film, a genre seen as sinful trash back in that day. What they end up creating is something so ambiguous and psychological, predating that subgenre of horror by perhaps twenty years, and changing the genre forever. That is something remarkable to me.

As for the relation to October, this film captures the traditional spirit beautifully – an old dark house, telling scary stories, doubting the line between real and unreal, et cetera. The individual tales are ingenious, but the arching story is what really evokes the creepy atmosphere. This film holds up amazingly well, considering its age, and is perfect for a quiet night when the wind is moaning. Watch out – it might start circling your dreams, too.

Films That Haunt Me: KWAIDAN

It’s obvious that J-horror has become one of the most important platforms for the genre in the past decade. That cannot be limited to the 2000s, however – in the 1950s and 60s especially, Japan produced some of the most beautiful and effective horror films of all time. The pinnacle of those, in my opinion, is 1964’s KWAIDAN.

Translating roughly as ‘Ghost Stories,’ the film is made up of four classic Japanese tales involving the supernatural. These stories have the air of ancient fables about them, with easy-to-understand morals built in as well. They are as follows – “Black Hair,” following a self-serving samurai who betrays his wife for success; “The Woman in the Snow,” telling of a creature who spares her victim on the condition that he never speaks about what he saw; “Hoichi the Earless,” named for a blind monk ordered by a long-dead empire to perform the song of their defeat; and “In a Cup of Tea,” a surreal tale of a man haunted by another’s soul which he unknowingly drank in, of course, a cup of tea.

From ‘Hoichi the Earless.’

These plots are more or less familiar and simple. It’s how the stories are told that lend them their beauty and power. Director Masaki Kobayashi evokes an Expressionistic atmosphere full of painterly colors and stunningly arranged images, granting the film the surreal quality of a dream. The music is also gorgeous and subtle, which ends up being quite frightening at times. Kobayashi directs his actors and his camera with a gentle but assured touch that manipulates the audience into believing that the stories are perhaps even true. Through his near-glacial pacing of plot, he makes you sympathize subconsciously, and then unleashes the horror at the precise moment. He is amazingly patient in his storytelling, an art that unfortunately seems to be neglected now.

From ‘The Woman in the Snow.’

For this reason I suspect that “Kwaidan” will bore some audience members – even condensed, it’s nearly 3 hours long, and it places focus on atmosphere and dread rather than outright action. Patient viewers will find themselves doubly rewarded, though.

From ‘Hoichi the Earless.’

Some of these stories (most recognizably “The Woman in the Snow”) have been re-adapted into other, more mainstream films – but the nuance and visual genius of “Kwaidan” are unmatched. While the plays out like an eternal, multi-formed dream, its images are not easily forgotten, due to their pure sublimity. It evokes almost subconsciously the intangible power of our obsession with the supernatural, the power that such things hold over our minds. Whether for the sheer beauty of the photography or for the brilliance of its quiet storytelling, “Kwaidan” is a must-see.

NOTE: I’ve heard rumours that Criterion is releasing a bluray version of this film – based on some negative reviews of the current DVD version, it might be best to seek out the new one. It’s the director’s cut and much better quality. (The DVD version, however, is perfectly watchable.)