So this year I got the opportunity to attend London's FrightFest from the comfort of my own home, and in this and the next three posts I'll cover the 30 movies I managed to watch and, in some cases, suffer through (Parts 2 and 3 will assemble all the UK entries). Many of these reviews have also appeared on the Bloody Flicks website, in slightly different versions.
But things change when Adam has a vision of Kate being knifed to death in her bed by a sinister guy with a baby mask; mercifully it’s just a dream, but he feels there might be some mileage in working up the ‘Big Baby’ serial killer idea, although he’s never written a slasher script before. More disturbingly, the morning after the dream he finds their bed sheets ripped by what looks like a large blade.
This is the jumping off point for the curiously named Spider One’s latest horror film (real name Michael David Cummings and brother of Rob Zombie) following his well-received chiller Little Bites from a year earlier. Arguably Big Baby is stronger as a relationship in peril drama than a slasher, partly because the bond between Adam and his creation remains unfocussed. The writer’s vision crosses over from the page to the real world with a mission; Adam needs to script the murder of all those responsible for making BB what he has become, and even though Adam has supposedly created the killer’s origin story, people start dying in real life, following the pattern of the script.
Scott and Fox are initially believable as the couple whose relationship flounders, less so as things move to a climax; this is also one movie where less gore might have been favourable to preserve the mystery of the piece, although the carnage does at least underline that Adam had one great slasher script in him.
Anti-depressant chugging Madison (Tiana Akers) hasn’t picked the best day to patch things up with her close friend Anna (Katherine Lozon). It’s their mutual and late friend Nadine’s birthday, and Maddie is harbouring a lot of guilt about her death (an accident at the beach while Nadine was drunk).
Arriving at Anna’s, Maddie’s pills (she’s taken more than usual) and a shared bottle of wine have a rather disorienting effect. Things aren’t improved by the fact that Anna has found out that Maddie and her husband Roman (Cory Stark) had an illicit lunch appointment; Roman has since argued with Anna and left on an extended fishing trip.
Anna and Madison’s friendship goes back to University, and there’s clearly some low level aspirational issues on the part of the former. But any reconciliation is marred by news that Anna is now pregnant, some problems with lunch necessitating a takeout, and Maddie’s increasing strungoutness, including some rather disturbing visions.
With such a small cast it ain’t difficult to work out what’s happening, but it’s a fun ride and Francis handles the darkness of his comedy/drama well, setting it anonymously on an estate of identikit tract housing, ensuring that attention is focused on the two friends as their lives – and minds – unravel. Good fun.
But Chloe is not without haters, and her outspoken ways can get her into trouble; like when she’s on a chat show with her trans friend Harmony (Reise Alexander) baiting a non progressive interviewer Jenna (Shawnee Smith) to the point where Harmony throws a make up compact at the host. Jenna would disown her own son if he as much as wore makeup, she tells them.
As a result of this, and without consulting any of the friends who support her ventures, Chloe decides to step away from the limelight, desiring to be “famous more for what she does than who she is,” landing on her feet by securing a part in a forthcoming horror movie. To celebrate her mother rents a cabin in the woods; when Harmony is cruelly murdered at home, it looks like the trip may be off, but Chloe and her friends choose vacation over mourning.
The cabin is, predictably, delightful, all wooden beams and hot tubs; later a game of truth or dare will end up with Jordi (Sean Giambrone), an odd chap with a couple of crushes and a sideline in dressing up, supposedly dead from an axe to the chest. But later his body disappears; as the party guests learn that they can’t trust each other and the red herrings pile up, it’s every self absorbed person for themselves.
Kyra Gardner’s first feature, after her 2022 documentary Living with Chucky, scores its biggest hit in not centring trans issues (although tensions are definitely there) but choosing instead to look at Chloe’s friendship circle; and a convincing group of mates they make too. As a comedy Slay doesn’t always hit the right notes; a humorous stoner (Ruby McCollister) grates rather than amuses, but some of the smaller roles, particularly Jimmi Simpson’s general store owner, are funnier. The movie messes with slasher cliches too, albeit with Scary Movie subtlety.
The biggest issue of Slay is the overall tone. The transition from friendship comedy to slasher is well handled, but the subsequent plot twists are unconvincing and a little baffling. It may be aiming for Scream, but it fires off in too many directions, and the denouement (“If you lived through it, you better monetise it!”) underlines a cynicism which I didn’t really need.
Alice is about as low as you can go. At some point after losing a baby in childbirth, her partner Jason also departs, presumably because of Alice’s inability to move on from the loss. But the hallmark of Hunter’s debut feature is that nothing is explained; all is filtered through Alice’s distracted mind, as she sits among unneeded baby clothes, which, boxed up, later hatch moths. Alice now lives remotely somewhere in Australia; no geographic pointers are given as to how isolated she is.
Jason’s sister, who’s pregnant, comes to check on Alice (a photograph shows that the pair were with child at the same time). She wants to help, clumsily offering to take away some of Jason’s things; it is assumed that his departure was unplanned.
Lost in her cycle of grief, Alice still wants to work, applying for a midwife job she is clearly in no position to take; she falls apart when the heavily pregnant interviewer asks whether Alice is a mother. She also goes on a date, which predictably does not end well. “I want a family,” she tells him on their first night.
While scrolling through the job links online, she reads an item about the ‘Mystery of the Midwife Witch’, a 19th Century American folk healer named Ada Landrake who moves to Australia, successfully prospects for gold and is subsequently hanged as a witch when babies start dying. Alice has felt a presence in the house with her and begins to imagine that she is being haunted by the witch; a way to try and find justification for the cruelty visited on her.
The Latcher is a dreamy - actually make that woozy - look at grief and its effect on those who suffer. Early scenes of Alice’s disassociation in her sparse, untidy home and her later obsession with its occupying force, reminded me of Polanski’s Repulsion; the movie remains a little formless, although affecting, and filtered to within an inch of its life. But Lovegrove is distractedly convincing and there are some effective touches; the horror is there but at arms length, or barely glimpsed, which works in its favour.
Her films often feature great ensemble playing with a focus on gender issues, usually framed within a horror setup. And Our Effed Up World is no exception. Sheri (Shara Thompson) lives with the ongoing grief caused by the death by suicide of her cancer ridden grandmother Grace (Kerry Armstrong), a surrogate mother in that Sheri’s own mum was not around for her growing up.
Sheri’s dad Hank (Scott Major) is a keen astronomer, moving the family out to a remote location to pursue his passion. He’s a practical sort, at one point explaining to his meteor fearing daughter that the green brightness she sees is only the effect of magnesium and nickel combining; but he’s also indecisive, not something his daughter needs.
Sheri’s own life is uneventful, balancing school and a dead end job, her only social connection being the local video shop. Well it’s sort of a shop, having been bequeathed to its young owner Finn (Jess MacLeod, also this year to be seen in Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma) by an uncle, but it’s mainly a place for her, Sheri and her workmate Poppy (Annapurna Sriramheri). Sheri’s wise enough to know that her relationship with loser boyfriend Henry (Jordan Dulieu) is going nowhere, preferring the company of her female friends.
Into this amiable slacker setup, a meteor lands near home and disgorges an alien creature, which has the power to impersonate those whom it consumes; starting with Henry. Mackay uses the alien as just one more problematic bloke (it’s male in appearance) with whom she has to deal, and which ruins the quality time she wants with her besties.
The creature itself, which seems to have strayed in from a cheesy 1980s sci fic pic, fits in with the video shop environment in which the girls hang out. Sheri’s grandmother, whose life was spent in activism, recognises a similar fire in the eyes of her granddaughter and, sure enough, it’s that resourcefulness which comes in useful; although not without sacrifice.
Others have commented that the ‘fantastic’ elements introduced into Mackay’s films feel forced, but I’d disagree; Our Effed Up World, from its great title onwards, sees everything, terrestrial or otherwise, as a massive pain in the arse, just something else for the characters to overcome in their aimless lives.
The POV subject in this case is Sean (Rijen Laine) who, when we first meet him – ok we never actually meet him but you know what I mean – is recovering from some kind of fainting spell while out in the woods. With him are his trainee nurse fiancée Grace (Ana Thu Nguyen), annoying friend Eric (Charles Cottier) and Eric’s med student girlfriend Kate (Alea O’Shea). The reason for the camping trip, in part, is for Sean to track down his missing geneticist father Paul (Stephen Phillips) but also to drink and have a lot of sex with Kate. Practical Grace, who one assumes is saving herself for marriage, disapproves of all this; she is a fixer by profession and inclination, unafraid to face challenges and obstacles. And as the movie progresses, this will be useful.
For Sean is a chap with stuff going on. Still recovering from the death of his younger sister Lily (Mischa Heywood), he’s prone to blackouts and vivid dreams in which he sees sis in various dead and deformed states. It becomes more and more difficult for Sean – and therefore the audience – to work out what’s real and what’s nightmare in his visual world. Eric’s offer of weapons grade shrooms, ostensibly to try and lift his friend’s demeanour, only makes things worse. But the discovery of an isolated cabin, potentially the location of Sean’s father’s experiments, is the cue for some serious next level WTFery.
William’s film is ambitious – not just because of the POV aspect but also the small cast (for the most part it’s a three hander) – and increasingly abstract. It’s a movie to experience rather than understand, although its themes of cloning and illicit experimentation have been done many times, but some of the photographic effects are genuinely trippy, there’s some surprising gore and a couple of jump scares I didn’t see coming.
Young Zeke (Jack Dylan Grazer) lives with his often ill mother Sandra (Alexis Bledel), who works at the restaurant and has raised her son alone; it’s a fact that hasn’t escaped the rather creepy attention of George (Bill Camp), a Ponderosa regular. Although Sandra and Zeke’s blue collar existence doesn’t allow for many frills – and mum is often exhausted at the end of her shift – the pair get along ok. That is until they receive news that the restaurant is to close. George sees an opportunity to inveigle himself into their lives, offering Zeke employment (which he can scarce afford to refuse) and generally playing the missing dad role. But George’s motivations aren’t entirely philanthropic; there are players behind the scenes (and in plain sight) looking to influence events, while Zeke benignly leads himself into George’s world.
On the plus side, Ponderosa’s biggest success is its sustained atmosphere of polite malaise. Filmed in a clean static style that emphasises vast skies and isolated housing estates, the Illinois of the film is as soulless as the inhabitants in front of us. These days most films made in the US are examined for ‘Trumpian’ elements, and the role of (Republican) men in 21st Century is clearly under the microscope here; and Rice clearly feels his country wanting, judging by the movie’s confusing end coda.
Unfortunately the atmosphere is compromised by a too slight script and a 45 minute idea stretched just that bit too long. It’s all pleasantly wonky – and occasionally sinister and plain weird – but there’s not enough to get hold of to sustain interest, despite a standout performance by Camp which ups the cringe to almost unbearable levels.
