cock robin.

Occasionally a movie comes along that is so magnificent, so splendid that you experience an almost religious awakening whilst viewing.

A film that can truly claim the title of cinematic perfection.

Ladies and gentlemen celluloid alchemy does indeed exist and its name is....

Robin Hood: Ghosts Of Sherwood (2012).
Dir: Oliver Krekel.
Cast:  Martin Thon, Ramona Kuen, Martin Hentschel, Kai Borchardt, Anika Neubauer, Dennis Zachmann, Kane Hodder, Dave Kaufmann, Carolina Grigorov and Lord Tom Savini.

"And I kill you now!"

Our tale begins in the mystical woods of Sherwood Forest (magnificently played by a children's playground behind the directors house),where a bedraggled group of homeless men in makeshift medieval uniforms (the tea towel budget must have almost bankrupt the production) stumble about aimlessly before falling down (quite carefully I must add, you don't want to get a splinter) in a manner usually reserved for a child’s deflating bop-bag toy.

Meanwhile, just behind the swings and across from the sandpit, another group of totally dissimilar medieval men are wandering around in what looks like an alcohol fuelled haze whilst attempting to construct a tent out of a washing pole and an old bed sheet as two disembodied voices explain the films storyline in the manner of someone who has only just discovered the ability to read.

But sod the speech we're here for the fighting and as luck would have it a small group (Re: three) of the king’s men are engaged in an exciting and incredibly well choreographed* sword fight against a band of angry tinkers.

Thankfully the director, being aware of how overwhelming such an incredibly exciting fight scene can be has thoughtfully placed the actors in such a way that the camera can just sit peacefully and capture the whole thing without needing to move from the old apple box that it's perched on.

This not only makes the whole thing much more peaceful to watch but ensures that our excitement levels don't get too high, leading to fainting and/or panic attacks.

The action hots up during the 1979 Cradley Heath dogging finals. If you don't believe me ask your dad (he came second).

But who is that dodging and diving 'tween the arse-kicking kingsmen?

Why it must be Maid Marian! (played it seems by Helen Hunt's younger, plainer sister, the real Ramona Kuen).

C'mon it's a Robin Hood story, I mean what other female do you know hangs around the park looking for groups of men?

Apart from your mum.

Anyway whilst kicking arse in a rather fetching knock-off Frozen dress from the market our bubble-bonced babe is being watched from afar by that lank-haired, pube bearded, jug-eared rocker dude that we all know from our college days.

Remember?

The one who was always trying to sneakily smoke hash at the back of the class and was forever doing the fish-lip face whenever Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Queen came on?

Oh no, hang on....it's actually Robin Of Loxley, the hooded man himself, Robin Hood (Thon, check out his frankly stunning show reel here).

T'was the lack of hood that confused me obviously.

And the lack of height.

And charisma.

Leaping (over the camera in an obvious homage to The Red Hand Gang) to her rescue our hero half heartedly kicks a few bad men up the arse before attempting to shoot them with his bow and arrow.

But lo! He misses because in a fantastic twist on the legend he's actually really shit with a quiver.

But dead handy with a ballpoint pen and a packet of Quavers.

Or so I'm told.

Insert cock here.

With the fight finished it's on to the plot good and proper and in a scene of soft-porn style overdubbing not seen since the heady days of Zombie(s) Lake  Robin discovers that Marian is actually the Sheriff of Nottingham's niece and that she's spent the last five years back-packing around Europe in an attempt to forge alliances and stuff. Liking her style (if not her scary inability to even breathe convincingly) Robin invites her back to his camp to meet his so called “merry men” who, in a change from accepted facts are no longer a hundred strong band of rough 'n' ready bandits willing to do anything for a righteous cause but are in fact a small group of  knitted trouser wearing homeless people sitting about on logs with their teeth blacked out pretending to chat after being promised a pork pie and a glass of Tizer.

Having never encountered women with bad teeth and hairy legs - not to mention short, beardy men with greasy barnets before (what did she have her eyes shut when she travelled thru' France?), Marian is intrigued to learn more of their customs but is shocked to find that the group not only don't work for a living and just sit about drinking (no doubt paid for out of their benefits) but supplement this by stealing stuff from the rich.

And I bet a fair few of them are immigrants too.

Bloody lefties.

Angrily confronting Robin about his frankly Pikey-like ways our hero responds with an impassioned (for a plank of wood) speech about international Marxism, the joys of commune living and eating toadstools which utterly convinces Marion to give up her rich kid lifestyle for a place amongst the Proletariat.

Right on.

Not only that but in a fit of zealot rage agrees to help Robin - alongside Friar Tuck (a man with a sinister lack of leg hair) and Will (son of Captain) Scarlet - to rob her uncle and redistribute his wealth by disguising themselves (via a face-changing magical potion no less - methinks certain cast members were busy this day) as monks before climbing up the toilet pipe and pocketing his gold.

It's not like he has any dignity left to steal.

Talking of absolutely no dignity it's at this point that The Sheriff of Nottingham himself finally makes an appearance.

In the form of the moustachioed god of gore (not to mention magician, photographer, pilot, highwayman, dentist etc.) himself Lord Tom of Savini.

With a Pittsburgh drawl, leather trousers and a beanie hat.

Genius.

SAVINI!

Obviously tho' (because the plan was conceived by madmen) this whole operation fails resulting in not only the deaths of Will and Tuck (thank fuck) but Robin getting a kicking before being hung on a wall like a discarded condom.

Which gives us just enough time to wonder why Marian needed to take the face-changing potion at all, I mean surely she wont have changed that much in five years?

Oh hang on it's because wannabe pop star and runner up of Kiddy Contest 2005 Carolina Grigorov was free for a few hours wasn't it.

Well fair play to them because she is fairly lovely.

In that mid 80's East Berlin kinda way.

Look what can I say? I went to art school in 1986....it's not my fault.

Can I also throw in at this point a totally random references to the town of Chestershire?

I don't see why not seeing as the cast seem to every five minutes.

Back to the action where, much to the guards confusion the face changing magic has worn off giving Robin a chance to escape  but not before being mortally wounded by some archers.

Of the bow carrying kind I mean he doesn't overdo the peach schnapps.

Tho' by this point I was on my third bottle.

Waking up in the lair of a sinister (is there any other kind?) witch (Marketing, Communications and Psychology graduate cum film producer Neubauer), Robin is mildly surprised to find that he's  been partially restored to life - which is twice as energetic as is usual and in order  to stay alive, he must relinquish his soul to the Devil.

But not for three years so that's OK then.

Robin, being a good guy is shocked by the thought of selling his soul to Satan (tho' obviously wouldn't think twice about selling his arse to sailors for loose change round the back of a supermarket) until that is the witch lets it slip that she has a potion for bringing the dead back to life.

But it will only work within the first 24 hours of death, otherwise the unfortunates will return as flesh eating zombies.

Remember this as it may be important later.

Possibly.

Swallowing his pride - which is much less salty that what he's usually guzzling - Robin takes the deal in order to save his friends and heads back to Nottingham to collect their corpses and bring them back to the witch where they are successfully restored to life.

"Shite in mah holy mooth!"

Back in Sherwood Forest life goes on as normal and Robin and Marian (now back to being played by Kuen), as is the way with the story, fall in love during a soft focus montage scored by the bastard child of Bryan Adam’s and Enya that was unfortunately dropped on it's head during its botched, backstreet birth.

Luckily all this mushy stuff (and ear rape) is interrupted when Robin casually lets slip about his deal with the Devil and Marian, none too happy with this turn of events storms off to the witches lair in order to bargain for Robin’s soul whilst our hero shuffles from foot to foot looking at the ground like a wee boy who's been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.

Surprisingly enough Marian actually manages to make a deal with the witch which involves giving her a big bag of pennies in order to just buy replacement souls from greedy folk.

Brilliant.

Marion should really be on Dragon's Den, she's wasted in this.

As are most of the cast if I'm honest.

Skipping hand in hand from the witch’s cave and with nary a care in the world, Robin and Marian's happiness is shattered when the discover that the Sheriff’s men (all six of them) have stumbled across Robin's base camp and killed everyone.

To death.

Angrily attacking the evil knights Robin is soon cut down by a swathe of arrows leaving Marian - who by this point is hiding behind a tree - alone and without hope of help.

Or is she?

For out of the woods strides an imposing figure of a man with an infeasibly square head.

It's Little John back from the social and clutching an emergency  Giro.

And not only that but he's being played by Jason Voorhees himself Kane Bloody Hodder!

Obviously Derek Mears was busy.

That's probably not the only thing she blew for this role.

Marian, relieved to finally be sharing a scene with someone who has more than two facial expressions fills John in on the story so far before casually mentioning the witches abundant supply of the resurrection potion and the pair hurriedly head back to the cave, giving Hodder an excuse to beheaded the old crone before stealing it.

Which is nice.

Marian and John return to the camp (it's a wonder there's any grass left seeing as everybody always seems to be walking thru' the same bit of forest) and begin dosing the bodies with the potion before siting down to await the results.

Unfortunately the camp have been dead for longer than a day (see? I told you that was important) and in a howl of almost orgasmic grunting not heard since your dad was caught with the bridesmaid at your uncles wedding the by now even dirtier than normal Merry Men rise again...

as flesh hungry zombies!

"Spice Girls number one for Christmas....MONSTA!"

Realizing - in a bizarrely nonchalant fashion - their mistake Marian and John quickly rifle thru' the stolen magic bag in the hope of finding a spell or potion to aid them in their fight against the undead, first giving themselves "skin of stone" (which wasn't the only think hard at this point) then fighting back by turning rocks into explosives and creating a “rain of rockets” ("You know like the Chinese have." helpfully explains Marian) before finally deciding to trap the zombies in Sherwood Forest by means of a mystic forcefield.

As you would.

With the undead hordes contained the only thing left for Marian to do is deal with the evil Sheriff of Nottingham.

Oh yes and change back into Carolina Grigorov for no reason other than to placate my desires.

Thanks for that.

 As luck would have it he just happens to be passing by with several of his guards in search of his niece (which begs the question as to how long she's been gone....it's seems like months - no really - but must only be a few days which mean for all his faults Robin's a fucking quick worker).

She explains to her uncle that her and John had been verbally abused by some drunken football fans in the woods and that they should go and sort them out,  taunting Little John for being too much of a wuss for not dealing with it himself (and no doubt for appearing in Charlie's Farm) before heading into the woods to kick some arse.

Cue a sexily stifled moan followed by a scream and some top rock guitar (courtesy of Michael Donner) as the titles crash into view over a blurred still of a sunset thru some trees.

Fucking magic.

But no, there's more.

We cut back to Nottingham Castle where an scary witch with an even scarier accent is being questioned by Little John - who appears to have been elected the new Sheriff after Tom Savini went missing in the woods as the French knight from Monty Python And The Holy Grail skulks about in the background.

It appears that the potion supply is running low and he needs a witch to help make some more, agreeing to free her if she offers to help.

Although only being a YTS witch with only basic spell skills she readily agrees rightly thinking that anything is better than spending your days in stocks with your arse on view to all and sundry.

Tho' I'm not too sure

Anyway as John prepares to send a large group of of men bedecked in ill-fitting and mismatched armour into the forest (and possibly certain death) a forlorn  Marian gazes off into the middle distance, no doubt thinking about where it all went wrong after her talent show heyday.

And that's really the end

Honest.

SAVINI! on a horse!

For the first time ever I'm at something of a loss to fully do justice to the experience of viewing this film. Every fibre of my being is screaming out "Burn it now!" yet there's something almost otherworldy about the delights and sheer entertainment value it holds

Like a lobotomised, Disney-fied version of Excalibur violently bumming the best bits of Hawk The Slayer drunkenly filtered thru' the design (and dubbing work) of Burial Ground, Robin Hood: Ghosts Of Sherwood runs the giddying gamut of total shite to utter genius and back again thru' every part of its almost 2 hour running time, everything about it seems to have been roughly plucked directly from the screaming brain of a madman and I for one am very grateful for it.

"Fiona! Where's mah lunch?"

Lazy camera work, inept dubbing, coma-inducing lift music, a cast with all the charisma of a bout of genital warts (with obvious exceptions) with a plot that doesn't as much meander as drag itself painfully across a glass strewn floor and a film so cheap that it manages to make the aforementioned Hawk The Slayer look like Kingdom of Heaven.

However none of this can dull the utter joy derived from the whole experience.

Oliver Krekel, I salute you.

Carolina Grigorov, I love you.

And Martin Thon?

Get a bloody haircut. 

As close to Godliness as cinema will ever get, this is the type of movie I dream of seeing.

And the fact that it was only a pound only adds to the joy.

Buy it now and demand a sequel.

The campaign begins HERE.

 

Thank you Poundland!

*For our American readers this is what we British call irony.

post mortem.

Another year and another Frightfest over so before I forget everything that occurred (tho' days after everyone else obviously) and by popular demand (OK one person asked my opinion), here's the mini round-up reviews type thing of the whole gory story.

The whole shebang was previewed back here so forgive any repetition and I'll try to keep things brief and to the point. 


Enjoy.

Going back to gory holes (sort of) the whole kit and kaboodle kicked of with a special Thursday night preview showing (for those of us not in the pub) of Jason (I wrote The Houses That October Built but don't hold that against me) Zada’s tree-based tummy troubler The Forest which headlines smirking sultress Natalie Dormer as twins (one has a comedy wig as to not confuse the audience) one of whom has gone allegedly missing in the spooky Aokigahara Forest.

I say allegedly as the nearest the production got to Japanese culture in any way appears to be playing Super Mario Bros. on the NES whilst masturbating to Harumi Asano videos.

Which there's no shame in but does mean that you wont be concentrating on putting together little things like a coherent plot or making sure there aren't any wee bits of clichéd racism in your script (Japanese food is gross! Look! as the camera lovingly focuses on a plate of sushi).

Luckily tho' they did have enough time to buy some Just For Men for hunky lead Taylor Kinney's frankly magnificent locks, just a pity that his T-Shirt was too small for him.

Seriously his nipples poked me in the eyes so much I had to wear a bandage across them for the rest of the weekend.

Which made viewing the other movies a tad challenging.

Hampered with dodgy dialogue, massively signposted scares and a script that requires the Dormer to have undergone a common sense removal operation before shooting, The Forest can only be recommended for those of you who enjoy camping equipment on the big screen or with a man-tit fetish.

Which means your dad would love it.

Natalie Dormer searches vainly for an original idea in The Forest. Well technically it's a hotel lobby but the film is entitled The Forest, no idea what the hotel's called.

The first film up on Friday was soon upon us in the form of The Hexecutioners, the latest tale of oddness from writer Tony Burgess, he who gave us the sublime Pontypool but not A Clockwork Orange as that one is dead.

Saying that tho' at the time of writing who's to say that this Burgess isn't fighting for his life somewhere? I mean we all face our own terrifying demons and battle against personal pain - both real and imagined - everyday.

A bit like the lovely, librarian-like and ravishingly redheaded - a theme that we will be returning to throughout the weekend - Malison McCourt (Liv Collins, daughter of Irish revolutionary leader Michael and actress Joan) in this movie.

See?

I'm not just rambling.

In a world where euthanasia is not only legal but a growing business, the mousy Malison, after suffering the indignity of having a dying woman vomit on her is teamed up with seasoned pro Olivia (all your school teacher fantasies made flesh Sarah Power) and sent to the remote estate of the high Scrabble scoring Milos Somborac, whose deathbed wish is to die via the Tibetan death ritual known as the Yotar Sky Burial.

Nicely written, played to perfection and with a fantastic central premise, the film is unfortunately let down somewhat by some unsure direction, a nervousness regarding its mix of scares and (very black) humour and more importantly by signposting its twists in neon ages before they happen.

Which is a shame as there are the seeds of a real gem here and the central performances from Collins and Power are fantastic.

As are Collins clothes.

Still worth a look - and miles more inventive than most mainstream horror around - The Hexecutioners has much to be recommended for.

Liv Collins, that is all.

From luscious librarians to loopy (young) lassies now with writer/director Sonny Mallhi's Anguish, the slow-burning, soulful story of troubled teen Tess d'Urbervilles (Ryan Simpkins, sister of the wee boy with the pudding bowl haircut and Autistic traits in Jurassic World) who suffers from a form of mentalism that causes her to struggle distinguishing between what’s real and what's imaginary.

I can relate to that.

Moving to a new town our batty-brained heroine is soon seeing spooky visions all around her that seem to be centred on a young girl whose life was tragically cut short in a car accident.

I say cut short but it's more like squashed flat.

Any concerns regarding another American movie about possession that alleges to be based on a true story are quickly laid to rest by Mallhi non-flashy direction which keeps the film moving at a slow and steady pace towards a genuinely surprising third act that totally fools your expectations.

Nicely underplayed and with a warm homely feel (thanks in part to a fantastically folky soundtrack and lush cinematography courtesy of Laid To Rest 2's Amanda Treyz) Anguish is one for anyone looking for a more sensitive and - gulp - mature approach to the paranormal.

Definitely a surprise and a director (and star) to watch.

On screen that is, I'm not suggesting you stalk them or anything.

Simpkins in a hat.

Next up - and giving the audience a well deserved break from full length fear-mongering were a trio of terrific shorts beginning with Jon Mikel Caballero's Cenizo, a brilliantly bonkers tale of eviction (yup, really) told from the viewpoint of a comic-reading young girl trying desperately to help her dad fend off an army of space nasties, which was frankly fantastic and thoroughly heart-warming (tho' the lead characters name may have help sell me on it).

Search it out now.

Adam Quintero: Specs appeal (sorry).

This was followed (as opposed to It Follows which as we all know is utter shite) by director/writer Katie Bonham’s menacingly mournful Mindless, a short yet shocking story of Peter (Nicholas Vince), a middle aged man on the edge of senility and his health visitor that packs more of a punch in it's scant eight minute running time than most features do in ninety and goes well to cementing Bonham as a Pete Walker for the new millennium.

Albeit less grumpy and with better taste in shoes.

Finally Burlesque bombshell and comedy writer Cat Davies’ cautionary tale of the dietary details of undead dating KEEN-wah hit the screen to much laughter and applause tho' to my mind it suffered from being a great idea let down somewhat by technical/make-up issues when compared to the previous two efforts and didn't reach its full potential.

Still, worth a giggle I guess.

What's new (pussy) Cat Davies?

And now to the dark horse of the festival, bravely replacing the Stephen King, John Cusak starrer Cell was Pandemic - a shoot em, loot em first person plague people vs Rachel (Continuum) Nichols actioner from director John Suits, he of the stylish 2014 thriller The Scribbler.

When a nasty virus (is there any other kind?) decimates humanity, former green-skinned Star Trek babe Nichols (as a CDC doctor not as herself obviously) is sent into an infected LA to retrieve a previous group with whom contact was lost shortly after reporting finding uninfected survivors.

But personal agendas and well kept secrets may jeopardise not only the mission but the very lives of those involved.

Incredibly intense in parts with a rough and ready guerilla edge missing from many movies of its ilk, it's eclectic cast and instantly recognisable - and relatable - characters means the movie grabs your attention from the start and never lets up.

Imagine The Crazies hotwired thru a PS3 and you're halfway there.

And to be honest that's no bad thing.

Welcome to Dudley.

From crazies to Cthulhu now as the fantastically funny Portal To Hell!!! burst onto our screens (well the GFT screens obviously).

A beautifully played homage to all things Lovecraft and featuring the final performance from the legendary 'Rowdy' Roddy Piper (plus sterling support from Laura Robinson who is, bizarrely enough the co-inventor of the best-selling game Balderdash - strange but true), Portal is just perfect.

Nuff said.

Rowdy Roddy reacts to the original They Live! reviews.

Wiping a tear from our collective eye (son) we sat in anticipation (which is the bar opposite the cinema) in readiness for Joe (Almost Human) Begos' brain-popping, bass pounding tribute to Scanners, the sublime The Mind’s Eye.

This 90's set telekinetic terror centres upon the misadventures of ESP-powered Everyman Zack Connors (Almost Human‘s Graham Skipper) who after being tricked to join a programme designed to help those with these 'special' gifts by the dodgy Doctor Michael Slovak (a scenery devouring performance from John Speredakos) discovers that not only does the doctor wish to steal these powers for himself but that he also has our heroes true love, the hotly mumsy Rachel (pear eyed poppet and star of Jug Face Lauren Ashley Carter) held captive.

Lauren Ashley Carter: Yummy quite frankly.

Proudly wearing it's influences on it's bloodied and torn sleeve and filled to the brim with gravity defying performances, exploding heads and a (not so) sly reference to everyones favourite CIA crazy John Rainbird, how much you love this will depend totally on how much you love the films it's celebrating.

And in this case it's a hell of a lot.

Oh and the score from Steve Moore of Zombi is pretty fucking special too.

And how do you follow that?

Well with Tyler MacIntyre’s heartfelt love letter to botched body swaps, social acceptance and true love, the brilliantly barmy Patchwork.

Mixing Mary Shelley with a dash of early Peter Jackson to wonderful comic (horror) effect, Patchwork is the story of three young women - work obsessed Jennifer (Tory Stolper), glitter loving airhead Ellie (Tracey Fairaway - so close) and the frankly perfect Madeleine (be still my beating heart, Maria Blasucci) who wake up after a night out to find themselves not only in a strange laboratory (which would be bad enough) but also hastily stitched together in one (fairly hot it must be said) body.

Charlie's Angels: The Pikey Years.

Discovering that they share thoughts as well as arms and legs (but not alas three arses) the trio must learn to work together if they have any chance of extracting shevenge on the person who did it.

Playing out at points like a Frank Henenlotter version of Inside Out (no, really) the films central concept of having three distinct and decidedly different personalities inhabiting one body gives Stolper, Fairaway and Blasucci the chance to really shine, giving a real heart and soul to a film that in less capable hands could become a trashy, offensive and unwatchable mess.

Great fun and genuinely touching Patchwork was, for me the surprise hi-light of the festival.

Maria Blasucci: Twice.

And with that Fridays turn ended with a bang leaving just enough time for a tearful wank, a Pot Noodle and forty winks (see? It does affect your eyesight) before rising early the next day (tho' not early enough to catch the first five minutes....damn you alarm clock) for the frankly fantastically monikered Roar (Cold Prey) Uthaug’s The Wave.

"Are you looking at my bra?"

Norway's biggest hit of last year, The Wave finds pube-chinned geologist Kristian (The Revenant's Kristoffer Joner) in a race against time to save his family whilst attempting to convince the authorities that the country’s most unstable mountain is about to collapse causing a massive tsunami.

Which is nice.

An unashamedly old school disaster flick featuring great performances and top-drawer special effects (the wave itself is terrifyingly real), it may not add anything new to that well worn genre but when you're on the edge of your seat and willing our hero to pull thru' none of that seems to matter.

Well it does if you're an arsey film bore with no joy in your life obviously.

"Somebody help me! I can't seem to find a coherent plot!"

 And talking of joyless thinks brings us neatly to Southbound, the much hyped (by 14 year old boys) anthology horror from the folk who graciously gave us V/H/S.

Wonderful.

Tying together five stories (well I say stories but five hastily scribbled, half-baked ideas would be a more apt description) of guilt, horror and shoddily CG-ed ball-headed monsters via a stretch of desert highway, Southbound is the perfect example of (makeshift) style over (very little) substance, the cinematic equivalent of a drunken jam session between four fairly competent pub bands best known for covering Oasis as it's the only band they've ever heard.

True there are some great ideas on show but none are followed thru', everything just seems to stop with an uninterested  'meh' rather than a shocked gasp, saying that tho' maybe I'm being too harsh as I'm not the intended audiences seeing as I'm not 12 and I've actually seen a film before.

More like a synopsis on the back of a box than an actual movie, Southbound is the cinematic equivalent of your mum drunk trying to dance provocatively to Beyonce, interesting to look at for a while but ultimately forgettable.

Harumi Asano, just in case you were wondering what she looks like.

Which is the total opposite of the arse-kicking martial arts action hit SPL2: A Time For Consequences, director Soi Cheang's tale of 'orrible organ-leggers, crack-head cops, family ties and tiny children in hospital is an unashamedly old-school HK thriller that plays out as if there has been no other films made since John Woo's The Killer and is all the better for it.

The basic premise sees undercover Hong Kong cop and part-time junkie Kit (Wu Jing) sent to a terrifying Thai prison after his cover is blown during a botched operation  where he discovers that the jail is really a cover for an organ trafficking ring run by a Chinese David Bowie impersonator ably aided and abetted by a gravity defying, slick-quiffed prison warden and an eyebrow-shorn hitman with a line in deadly letter openers.

Luckily there's one honest guard in the prison (and he's played by Tony Jaa - how lucky is that?) named Chatchai how is painfully aware of all the badness and corruption going on around him.

Unfortunately his daughter has leukaemia and is in desperate need of a bone marrow transplant so our good guy guard is forced to remain silent, until that is he realizes that Kit is not only a cop but the perfect match for his daughters blood type setting the scene for an top-tier, turbo-charged excuse to watch grown men kicking seven shades of shite out of each other in a variety of ever more amazing ways whilst trying to get a signal on a mobile phone.


No really.

Played to straight-faced perfection and a with a deadly serious tone usually reserved for stuff like Schindler's List, SPL2 is a text-book example of why we fell in love with the likes of Chow Yun Fat and Sammo Hung in the first place.

Ball-breaking cinematic gold.

And yes there's an inappropriate pop song over the end credits.

"Does my skin look buttery?"

From chop-sockey trumpings to Indian summers now with The Other Side Of The Door, Johannes Roberts’ tale of totems, terror and antique tables where the Mumbai-based tat peddler Maria (Sarah Wayne Callies from The Walking Dead), distraught after losing (as in he died, not in a McCann way) her son discovers a dark rite (there's always one isn't there?) that will let her to say goodbye to her dead child and hopefully find closure.

Unbeknownst to her husband Michael (Jeremy Sisto) she travels to a remote temple where it is said that the barriers ’twixt the world of the living and the dead is at it's thinnest.



A wee bit like Dudley town centre then.

The land of the dead yesterday.

Being a girl tho' Maria messes up the ritual allowing the spirit of the evil goddess Myrtu to enter our realm and roam the earth once more leaving her no choice but to try and protect her daughter and husband from this netherworld nasty whilst trying to act like she's done nowt wrong.

Yup, typical bloody woman.

Although not the most original plot in the world, Roberts raises the movie above the norm with a great cast, a uniquely exotic setting and some genuine scares in a film that is as unashamedly British in feel as it is exotic.

Reminiscent (in tone at least) at times of the 1975 Tyburn Film The Ghoul, The Other Side Of The Door does exactly what it sets out to do and is an unapologetically old school chiller.

All the perils of double dating in one pic.

From subtle chiller to blood soaked thriller next with the première of Can Evrenol’s terrifyingly trippy Turkish delight, Baskin.

When a bus load of foul mouthed Turkish police officers answer a call for help from one of their colleagues they get more than they bargained for, stumbling headlong into a Black Mass being performed by a nightmarish cabal of subhuman cannibalistic freaks with a thing for gory blood ceremonies and bare arses led by a ball-headed boffin called simple 'Father'.

Almost impossible to describe but totally impossible to ignore, Baskin comes across like a primary coloured, living breathing arthouse vision of Hell as curated by Clive Barker, Lucio Fulci and David Lynch with tickets designed by Nicholas Winding Refn in a lock-up in Silent Hill.

Bloody good stuff.

"Boiled onions!"

The penultimate movie of the weekend was by far the most contentious, Kevin and Michael Goetz’s remake of Pascal Laugier’s comedy classic Martyrs.

'Serious' (I.E. those with poles up their arses) horror fans were enraged at the thought of an American remake of this 'classic' and weren't backwards in coming forwards (or over the seats in front) with opinions about it.

I, myself tho' felt rather different.

It's confession time.

You see, I don't actually rate the original.

True it has a brilliant premise, a fantastic beginning, beautifully twisted middle and a massive punch to the bollocks of an ending but then, unfortunately it has an extra 40 minutes of meandering and boring torture added to it for no reason other than shock value before dropping the ball completely by leaving the whole "Does God exist?" question totally unanswered.

Not even Star Trek V fell into this trap.

And as for the remake?

Well it's totally what you expect, a flashy yet vacuous retelling that replaces the originals religious overtones with a so-so strong woman revenge trope that is neither fleshed out enough to be engaging or different enough to warrant the film being remade in the first place.

The kinda film that your boringly haircutted workmate would find 'shocking' but in reality the cinematic equivalent of watching grey gloss paint dry.

Saying that tho' it does feature some of the most unintentionally hilarious CGI I’ve seen in a mainstream movie for some time alongside a blink and you'll miss it homage to Truman Capote's In Cold Blood.

Tho' that was probably an accident.

I'd say it's worth a look but as a horror fan you really have to see it to make up your own mind.

Not as shite as you feared but not as funny as it could have been.

But it is nice to see Big Trouble In Little China's Kate Burton back on the big screen.

The Ronko Wankaway proved a great success with young and old alike.

And now for a feast of sugary sweet fun from writer/director Sean Byrne, he who gave us the sublime The Loved Ones and introduced us to the ultimate maid of mentalism in the button-cute form of Robin McLeavy.

No pressure then.

Ladies and gentlemen I give you The Devil’s Candy.

Lank haired heavy metal loving art type guy Jesse Hellman (Ethan Embry), his wife Astrid (Ex-All Saint Shiri Appleby) and fellow metal-head daughter Zooey (Kiara - I belong to - Glasco) moves to a house in Texas, unfortunately (for them that is) the house has a violent past.

By that I mean that bad things happened in it and not that the actual house itself got up off its foundations and ran amok, tho' that would've be worth seeing and probably a lot more realistic than Martyrs.


But I digress.

It's not long tho' before his paintings start to take a darkly disturbing turn and when a drifter called Ray (Pruitt Taylor Vince from almost everything) turns up on their doorstep begging to move back into where his parents tragically died things start to get really strange.

Literally THE only still available from The Devil's Candy.

What could be seen as yer average 'family under siege' movie is immediately elevated to greatness by Byrne's almost uncanny ability to make even the most mundane and comical situations turn terrifying and it's this, couple with his skill at creating instantly likeable 'everyman/woman' characters, the relationship between Jesse and Zooey is absolutely beautifully played and it's this bond 'tween father and daughter that drives and informs the films darker elements.

Kudos too to Appleby and the always watchable Vince.

I for one can't wait to see it again.

And this time I promise to keep my trousers on.

So that's it for another year, strong, steady and infinitely enjoyable Frightfest Glasgow continues to go from strength to strength - roll on next year and hopefully a belated big screen showing of this classic.....

You have been warned.

frightening things.

 

It's that time of year again when hundreds of horror 'enthusiasts' (plus the usual half dozen sweaty, high waisted folk who live at home with their disabled mums - who, by the way will never die!) descend on my fair city ready to soak the streets (and seats) with the unmistakable smell of sweat, shame, semen and tears for a celebration of all things fright and gory-full.

Which can only mean that our lovely pals at Frightfest have announced the line-up for sunny Glasgow.

And what a line-up it is!
   
Kicking off with the by now traditional Thursday night pre-fest film (especially for all you soft southern shites who are too feart to go to the pub) THE FOREST, this year promises a record thirteen films, a selection of unmissable (probably) shorts, guests, give-aways, a sneaky peek at Paul Hyett’s HERETIKS and a chance to buy me a drink to show me how much you like the t-shirt design this year.


Well, it's worth a punt.

Excited?


You should be.


So, as Jennifer Anniston used to say "Pay heed to my words for here is the science!"

Which means here's a list of the films on show.

First up (at 9pm on Thurs 25 Feb fact fans) is the UK Première of the aforementioned THE FOREST starring Game of Thrones smirking sexpot Natalie Dormer as a young American woman, Sara, who is desperately searching for her twin sister in and around Japan’s most haunted location, the spookily monikered (yet amazingly high Scrabble scoring) Aokigahara Forest.

"Put it in me!"

For those of you who don't know the famous forest, which is just below the northwest base of Mount Fuji and across the road from the big Aldi superstore has always been linked to the Japanese belief in the paranormal, especially those legends pertaining to the 'ubasute' (ghosts of old women abandoned by their families - a bit like your mum) and the 'yurei' (those of lonely suicide victims).

But what, I hear you cry do these supernatural spooks have to do with the Sara's sisters disappearance?

Expect bumps, bangs and the best tree-based horror since The Evil Bod.

Which has been turned down again by the organisers for being just too crap.

Oh well, there are plenty of DVD's still available for anyone who's interested.

Evil Bod...Not as shite as the remake and only a fiver to buy. Bargain.

Anyway on to Friday’s first fright and another UK Première, this time it's the tongue tripping THE HEXECUTIONERS, director (and sometime holiday specialist) Jesse Thomas Cook’s trouser-soiling story of state sanctioned euthanasia where the young and inexperienced Malison (Liv Collins, daughter of drummer Phil and ex-Eastender Michelle) alongside seasoned suicide specialist Olivia (Sarah Power) are sent to the remote estate of the mysterious Milos Somborac, whose deathbed wish is to die via the Tibetan death ritual known as the Yotar Sky Burial.

Which sounds fairly legit if I'm honest.

Sexy redhead in sensible knitwear?....Check! That'll be the best movie of the weekend sorted.

Soon tho' the real reason as to why this arcane method has been chosen becomes clear as the death-dealing duo find themselves fighting a whole host of scary spirits whilst attempting to look good in a variety of sensible knitwear.

How can you possibly follow that? I hear you cry.

Easy, is the answer, with the UK Première of Sonny Mallhi’s ANGUISH, which has been described as the creepiest and most resonant American independent horror since It Follows.

Blue is the warmest colour.

Which is a shame really but to be honest there's no way it could be as arse-numbingly awful as that so I'm actually quite looking forward to it especially as the main character is a troubled teen with a dissociative identity disorder which makes her susceptible to seeing dead people.

Which is nice.

A quick fag and toilet break may be in order before the next film wish is the much-anticipated (it says in the press release and who am I to argue?) World Première of Stephen King adaptation CELL starring John Cusack, Samuel L. Jackson, everyones favourite freaky foster kid Isabelle Fuhrman and - wait for it - STACY FUCKING KEACH!

 

Stacy Fucking Keach.

When a powerful signal is broadcast across the worlds mobile phone networks worldwide, every user’s mind is dangerously re-programmed turning them all into crazed killers.

Think that woman who plays Candy Crush on the train opposite you every morning but with better teeth.

As civilization crumbles and the bloodthirsty ‘phoners’ attack anything that moves it's left to artist - how cool is that? you hardly ever get artists as the hero, I love it already - Clay Riddell (Cusack), a man desperately searching for his wife and son alongside a ragtag group of survivors - including Tom McCourt (Jackson) to battle against the high as a kite horde whilst looking for the mysterious 'Raggedy Man’, a man (who is raggedy) who may just have the answers to what the hell is happening.

Phew.

Next up is the Scanners-tastic THE MIND’S EYE, directed by Joe (Almost Human) Begos.

Set in snowy 1990 New England, this big smoochy lip-smacking tribute to David Cronenberg (when he was good) and Brian De Palma tells the story of telekinetic fugitive Zack Connors (Begos regular Graham Skipper), a man who can move and destroy objects with his mind.

And probably undo ladies bra's but I'm not sure.

The Mind's Eye...Just not this one.

Picked up by the authorities our hero is sent to a research institute run by the diabolical Doctor Slovak who, despite promising that he’ll reunite Zack with his girlfriend Rachel (The Woman's Lauren Ashley Carter) is in reality using his patients to create a synthetic mind-control serum for his own power-crazed use.

As you would too if you're honest with yourself.

Rounding off (as opposed to polishing off) Friday is the European première of Tyler MacIntyre’s love letter to Frank Henenlotter, PATCHWORK.

"Scabs roon' mah mooth!"

More lie back and bitch than Lilo and Stitch, this sexy spin on Mary Shelley mixes gore and guffaws to comic (horror) effect as three young women - queen bitch Jennifer (Tory Stolper), airhead Ellie (Tracey Fairaway - so close) and button-nosed weirdling Madeleine (Maria Blasucci) wake up after a night out to find themselves not only in a strange laboratory but also hastily stitched together in one body.

Discovering that they share thoughts as well as arms and legs (but not alas three arses) will the women manage to co-operate long enough to not only make their escape but extract shevenge on the mad scientist responsible for their condition?


You'll just have to wait and see.

Or at the very least wait till someone else has seen it and ask them.

There's time for a tearful wank and a Pot Noodle in your crummy, lice infested hotel room (you'll not sleep, the couple next door will see to that) before Saturday's programme burst into action with the Scottish Première of Roar Uthaug’s water-based disaster epic THE WAVE.

Norway's biggest hit of last year - and a Scandinavian smash to boot - The Wave finds bearded geology bloke Kristian working at an early warning centre in the small town of Geiranger keeping an eye out for rockslides, lost sheep and the like.

Here come The Belgians!

Unfortunately the calm and quiet is soon shattered when the a fjord called Geiranger (bless you) breaks (you can tell that geology was my strong point at school) creating an 85 metre high tsunami.

Expect damp seats, woolly jumpers and children in peril.

Next up is a slice of pie that is the portmanteau horror SOUTHBOUND, five interlocking tales of terror from the makers of (gulp) V/H/S that follow the fates of a group of travellers over one long night on a desolate stretch of desert highway.

Southbound....and we all know what that means.

Promising supernatural horrors haunting a pair of blood bathed blokes, an all-girl band discovering the true meaning of family values, a home invasion and a botched rescue mission, Southbound should have something for everyone.

Everything that is except arse-kicking martial arts action possibly but fear not because it's followed by the high-kicking Hong Kong hit SPL2: A TIME FOR CONSEQUENCES.

Less Strictly Come Dancing more violently come on my face.

Director Soi Cheang's tale of Thailand’s criminal underworld sees undercover Hong Kong cop Kit isent to a terrifying Thai prison after his cover is blown during a botched operation where or bowl-haired hero discovers that the jail is really a cover for an organ trafficking ring run by a group of sweaty bad men.

Luckily there's one honest guard in the prison (and he's played by Tony Jaa - how lucky is that?) setting the scene for an top-tier, turbo-charged excuse to watch grown men kicking seven shades of shite out of each other in a variety of ever more amazing ways.



There's just enough time for a quick wee before director Johannes Roberts presents the European première of his spooktacular shocker THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR.

Distraught after losing (as in he died, not in a McCann way) her son, India-based antiques dealer Maria (Walking Dead's Sarah Wayne Callies) discovers a dark rite (there's always one) that will let her to say goodbye to her dead child and hopefully find closure.

Unbeknownst to her husband Michael, she travels to a remote temple (tho' probably not by public transport) where the it is said that the barriers ’twixt the world of the living and the dead is at it's thinnest.

Being a girl tho' Maria messes up the ritual allowing the spirit of the evil goddess Myrtu to enter our realm and roam the earth once more.

Now Maria must protect her daughter Lucy from this netherworld nasty whilst trying to explain all this to my nan.

Ramping up the gore factor by 73.6% is Can Evrenol’s (Can Evrenol what I hear you ask....who knows?) Turkish delight that is BASKIN. 

"I think I'll have strawberry milkshake!"

 Packed to the rafters with bizzaro chills, an atmosphere you can cut with a knife and lashing of perviness, Evrenol’s mental mix of everything from Coffin Joe to H.P. Lovecraft and HP Sauce possibly (via Argento and Barker - Clive not Ronnie) promises a terrifyingly taunt tour-de-force of ultra-violence and extreme horror that sees an unfortunate police squad stumble upon a Black Mass being performed by a nightmare cabal of subhuman cannibalistic freaks with a thing for imaginative blood ceremonies. 

And frogs.

Jack the lad need not apply.

A wee history lesson now as we travel back to 2008 and Pascal Laugiers  MARTYRS, controversial on release it's best known for having a top plot, a great beginning, shocking middle and incredibly satisfying ending.

Unfortunately Laugiers decided to stick another ending on top of that which turned a nice little religious shocker into a tediously overblown 'O' level dissertation into the existence (or not) of God that managed to piss any goodwill or enjoyment you may have had up the wall.

Now our American cousins come to the rescue (in much the same way they did in WW II) with the UK première of the highly anticipated remake.

Directing siblings Kevin and Michael Goetz have promised a bold reimagining of the source material rather than a slavish remake so this might be worth a look.


Or then again, it might be rubbish.

Two Martyrs yesterday (that probably only works if you say it out loud).

Either way there wont be much time to argue about it as this year’s (Henry) cavalcade of carnage climaxes with a bloody big bang of heavy metal fuelled murder and mayhem with the UK première of Sean (The Loved Ones) Byrne’s THE DEVIL’S CANDY, which by all accounts is meant to be rather good.

Rather rubbish artist (is there a theme this year?) Jesse Hellman (Ethan Embry) alongside his wife Astrid (Ex-All Saint Shiri Appleby) and metal-head daughter Zooey (Kiara - I belong to - Glasco) moves to a house in Texas, unfortunately (for them that is) the house has a violent past.

 

Owen Wilson - The pikey years.

 By that I'm assuming that bad things happened in it and not that the actual house itself got up off its foundations and ran amok, tho' that would be worth seeing

It's not long before his paintings start taking on a darkly disturbing turn when a drifter called Ray turns up on their doorstep wanting to move back into where his parents tragically died.

Nope, sounds perfectly reasonable to me.

And if that list of frankly magnificent movie mayhem isn't enough to tempt you then frankly you're beyond help.

Tho' I'll forgive you if you buy a T-shirt.

FrightFest Glasgow runs from 26th and 27th February and tickets are available here.

late night linus.

As you may have spotted there's been a slight delay in reviewing the rest of Frightfest due to the high quality of the films on show meaning it's much harder to take the piss.

So without further ado on with the show...

Barely recovered from the surprisingly super vinyl villainy of The Asylum (or Backmask or whatever it's called this week) Saturday mornings FrightFest fun kicked off with a classic killer clown caper in the form of  Jon Watts’....

Clown (2014).
Dir: Jon Watts (obviously).
Cast: Laura Allen, Andy Powers, Peter Stormare, Elizabeth Whitmere and Christian Distefano.

Loveable real estate agent and cuddly family guy Kent Clark (the instantly likeable Powers) ends up donning a clown costume he's found in a house he's selling after the entertainer he's booked for his son’s birthday party cancels at the last minute.

Yup, sounds legit.

Unfortunately the next morning our doting dad realises that the suit has started to attach itself to his body, even down to the foam red nose.

And if that wasn't strange enough our eponymous hero has started feeling very hungry.

For children.

And not I might add in a Savile way.

Tho' that's probably as bad.

The situation does have a wee bit of a silver lining tho' as Kent manages to track down the costumes previous owner, a man named Karlsson (cult fave Stormare) only to discover that he too had suffered the same terrible effects after wearing it.

You see, it turns out that the clown suit is, in reality the skin and hair of an ancient kiddie eating demon from Northern Europe named the "Cloyne", which is nice.

As a plus point tho' Kent also finds a way to stop the demon and regain his life.

And that's by sacrificing five children to it.

Much fun, gruesome child killings and clown-based hilarity ensues.

"Time to shoot your demon muck over your sisters jubblies!"

Actually living up to it's pre-screening hype, Watts' big screen movie debut is a surprisingly muted and almost camp free affair that brings to mind David Cronenberg's The Fly - as well as the Jim Carrey crapfest The Mask - in and it's painful portrayal of body transmogrification.

At least before the plot zooms off on a darkly comic kid-killing rampage which frankly is just the ticket for a Saturday morning.

A fantastic cast - special kudos to the wonderful Andy Powers - play the whole thing perfectly straight and to great effect with only Peter Stormare edging toward the camp corner, which after the uncomfortable winces at Kent's attempts to remove the costume and a couple of near child chewings manages to give some blessed relief from the movies disturbingly black heart.

Admittedly there's a real danger of it losing its way as the film races toward its bloody climax but luckily Watts and co-writer Christopher Ford manage to pull it back whilst delivering a surprisingly bleak ending.

Dead funny. 

No time to get our breaths back (but luckily time to pee) as the great god of cinema himself Sir Alan of Jones took to the stage to introduce  Arrow Films’ magnificent restoration of Mario Bava’s classic....


Blood and Black Lace (AKA Sei donne per l'assassino, Six Women for the Murderer. 1964)
Dir: Mario Bava.
Cast: Cameron Mitchell, Eva Bartok, Thomas Reiner and Ariana Gorini.

If you haven't already seen this then I suggest you hang your head in shame, then go straight out, buy it, watch it then come back when you've finished.

I'll still be here.

I mean who doesn't love the maestro's groovy fashion-based slasher centring  as it does around a group of chain-smoking models being pick off one by one by a fright-masked, leather-gloved killer?

Absolutely fucking gorgeous to look at and packed to the gills with the biggest collection of preening beauties, dippy designers and antsy addicts alongside quite possibly the greatest quiff ever seen on a police detective and all set to one of the coolest soundtracks ever written.

Cinematic perfection.

Coffee, cakes and a quick cigarette next as we prepared to head back into the Black Hills of Maryland with Russ Gomm’s documentary that goes behind the scenes of The Blair Witch Project.

The Woods Movie (2014).
Dir: Russ Gomm.
Cast: Eduardo Sánchez, Dan Myrick, Gregg Hale and some other folk.

With access to over 3 million years worth of footage recorded at the time, Gomm lovingly documents Blair Witch’s origins, planning and production, tracing the story from its very beginnings via audition tapes, do it yourself set decoration and spooking its lead actors in the woods to taking over the world at Sundance with asides and comments from  directors Sánchez and Myrick alongside producer Hale in what can only be described as not only the final word on a cinematic phenomena but also on the world of micro-budget, lo-fi film-making in general.

Those expecting a critique of the movie and it's subsequent changing of the horror landscape will probably be disappointed by Gomm's love letter a film which so obviously shaped his career and tastes but to be honest The Woods Movie is much better for it and remains a reminds us why we all took the movie to our hearts.

Recommended to anyone and everyone who's ever been tempted or attempted to make a movie.

From putting the willies up students in a forest to putting them up kids in cupboards next with Hans Herbot’s adaptation of Mo Hayder’s darkly disturbing crime novel...

The Treatment (AKA De Behandeling. 2014).
Dir: Hans Herbot.
Cast:  Geert Van Rampelberg, Ina Geerts and Johan van Assche.

The Treatment tells the tragic tale of Detective - on the verge of a nervous breakdown - Nick Cafmeyer, a man whose career and life have been haunted by the abduction of his younger brother by a pervy paedophile when they were kids.

A paedophile who, due to a technicality got away scott free and now spends his time harassing poor Nick with notes pertaining to tell the true fate of his sibling and by standing in his garden waving at him in a creepy manner.

Seriously you can smell the warm milk off the man thru' the screen.  

The whole sorry situation comes to a head tho' when reports come in of a family being held hostage and brutalized whilst their child is abducted in circumstances that mirror his own trauma.

Determined to catch those involved whilst laying his own demons to rest Nick is forced to relive his own nightmares and fears as he attempts to solve the case.

The Cannon and Ball starring Boys in Blue it isn't.

What it is tho' is one of the most powerful and disturbing crime thrillers in recent memory.

The subject matter is sensitively handled by Herbot, tho' he's a director not afraid to shy away from the grim and grimy horror inflicted on the films young victims and by proxy the lead character - a kind of Dutch Lieutenant subtly portrayed by Geert Van Rampelberg, The Treatment is a bleakly stylish thriller that handles it's themes of child trafficking and abuse in a surprisingly - and welcome - mature manner.

The films biggest shock tho' comes when the director explains how this (British) based novel couldn't get funded in the UK due to it's subject manner which just goes to show what a sorry state the UK film industry is in.

Hopefully a DVD release will be imminent for this must see shocker.

Just don't expect to get laid afterwards.

Time for a cigarette (or six) and a quick bleaching of the eyeballs next before the final(?) chapter in the frankly magnificent [REC] series.

And I'll admit upfront that I do indeed love [REC] 3 (yes it's my favourite one, deal with it) as well as going all wobbly kneed at the sight of the yumsome Manuela Velasco, so it was a forgone conclusion that I'd love this.

Demon-possessed monkeys and all.

[REC] 4: Apocalypse (2013).
Dir: Jaume Balagueró.
Cast: Manuela Velasco, Paco Manzanedo, Hector Colome, Ismael Fritschi and Mariano Venancio.



Following on directly after the climax of [REC] 2 (the third part actually comes first then runs parallel with the original [REC] continuity pedants) with ace TV reporter turned demon fighter Ángela Vidal (Velasco, meow. Twice) being rescued from the infected apartment block by a couple of hunky special forces types before waking up - clad only in a paper tea towel - on a government commandeered merchant navy ship in the middle of the ocean.

With only the most ineffectual group of sailors this side of Captain Pugwash,   Clara's mother-in-law (from [REC] 3), some trigger happy soldiers, assorted boffins and the Spanish Nick Frost (La isla de los nominados' Fritschi) for company our beloved heroine must face down a rapidly growing army of demons and a hold full of killer monkeys before the ships self destruct is triggered.

Fast, furious and incredibly silly, [REC] 4 might not break any new ground or be as genuinely terrifying as the first movie but fell for it hook, line and sinker and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

The most fun to be had with the possessed since Army of Darkness, hate it and be a crushing horror snob forever.

And on to the final film of the Fest of Fright, Jay Dahl’s mysterious reworking of his short of the same name....


There Are Monsters (2014).
Dir: Jay Dahl.
Cast: Matthew Amyotte, Jason Daley, Kristin Langille and Michael Ray (not Jay) Fox.

Whilst travelling across country gathering testimonials from successful former graduates of their college, four film student pals begin to notice that people around them are acting strangely.

Firstly in subtle ways, clothes on inside out and badly applied lipstick become more and more noticable to the foursome as do the fact that more and more people are standing perfectly still in the distance with their backs turned toward our travelling band.

And then there are those whose smiles are just way too large...

From it's genuinely jumpy pre-credits sequence to it's pulse pounding finale, Dahl's film definitely split the crowd into those who happily leaped headfirst into the directors headfuck nightmare and those too terminally staid to see past it's faux-found footage feel and extremely choppy editing style.

Like JT Petty's cult classic the sublime Soft for Digging, There are Monsters is the type of movie perfect for audience interpretation.

I mean of course it's a monster movie in the classic Invasion of The Body Snatchers vein but it also works as a story about delusional misidentification (or Capgras syndrome) writ large, or about how those with ASD (autism spectrum disorder) are viewed by/or view the world.

It's totally up to you.

One criticism aimed at the film has been its sometimes disorienting camera work with it's off focus scenes and covered lens conversations, which if taken as a result of the footage belonging to the students can be seen as a genuine concern.

I mean they're film students, surely they know how to frame a shot?

But if you assume that the footage is actually from the point of view of the movie-goer, making them an actual character in the film then it makes perfect sense.

The camera literally transforms into our eyes and ears, reacting as we would under stress, hiding our eyes, turning away, trying to block out the unpleasantness unfolding around us.

We are the camera and the camera is us, ironically in a film about change and deception and the importance of individuality it's us, the audience who transform first.

We become the film we are watching.

And in this disposable culture it's ironic that we become a digital medium rather than good old celluloid.

There Are Monsters is one of the few horror films that stayed with me for days after and, if you let it, will do the same to you.

And I for one can't thank Jay Dahl enough.

Long live the new flesh.