Ever have one of those days? You know the kind: the ones that start out with you sleeping through your alarm, followed by running out of hot water in the middle of your shower, and then by cutting your face to ribbons while you dry shave. There’s cereal, but no milk; coffee but no filters.
The slasher genre has been on life support for quite a while. Still, filmmakers like to go back to that particular well because the basic tenets of the films are fairly straight forward and they can be made for a song… and usually, not very good songs.
In nature, mimicry and camouflage are used as a defense against predators. Whether it is the protective coloring of some species or even the clever anatomy of a stick bug, these mechanism help protect the weak or otherwise helpless. Hollywood has taken this idea and, of course, applied it to films, allowing lesser movies to
I remember seeing this trailer for David Cholewa’s “Dead Shadows” ages ago and thinking how wonderfully insane it was. But since that first sighting I didn’t see much else about it – which in my opinion was a damned shame. I’m a fan of French horror and to see a French Lovecraftian film – well,
Back in 2011, Daniel Stamm’s “The Last Exorcism” absolutely rocked my world. It developed good solid characters, a good story and, for 90% of the movie, they honored the first rule of found footage films and kept me well rooted in the world they created. To me, it was a near perfect little nugget of
It’s no secret to my contemporaries, I am a horror snob. For the most part, I keep my recent viewing list to a select list of strong films that challenge me mentally and emotionally. It’s quite a shame really since some of the more delightful delicacies of the horror genre are so deliciously low. You
I’m not going to sit here and tell you that “Sinister” is the best horror movie I’ve seen this year. Or how it broke new ground in the genre. Quite honestly, it may or may not be and it really didn’t do anything new. But, if I were to describe it in a few words,
Somewhere out in the universe, in a vast Jungian conceptual tangle is a library. In this particular library – since it is an imaginary construct – there are only two books. One thin volume is a collection of foundational stories: these stories are the basis of ever told. The other is a massive tome that, in a less fanciful environment, would fill all the world’s libraries.
This is the thesaurus.
It contains countless variation of the core stories. A rare few of these variants are something special – evolutionary leaps in the material that make it better than the original. Most, however, are pale shades of its progenitor. Neither better nor worse, they could, at best be called, “unnecessary.”
Such is the case with “The Possession.”
Have you ever had a conversation with someone who stopped talking midway through a sentence? Not the comfortable shorthand that comes with a long term friendship but the half-mad ramblings of a drunken stranger at a party – you know the type. He’s the guy that hems you into a corner with no one in
A good solid rule for most movies is, “Make sense.” Even the most avant of garde films makes sense in their own kind of way. If a film doesn’t have a claim to that particular edgy conceit, then one would think it would be that much easier to follow that simple directive. However, it’s something