Amidst the numerous movies and TV shows released in the wake of The Walking Dead’s success, one stands out.
It Stains The Sands Red, released in 2016, takes the zombie movie template and energizes it in many subtle and inventive ways.
Directed by Colin Minihan, and written by Minihan and Stuart Ortiz, It Stains The Sands Red, uses its modest budget and limited locations to great effect. But the secret ingredient, is actress Brittany Allen.
Allen, playing Molly, a lost soul who drowns her sorrows in booze and toxic men, delivers a performance that's nothing short of dazzling.
Her character, a quote unquote bimbo, who, after being left stranded in the deserts of Las Vegas, with a tenacious zombie on her tail, could have become an annoying, tiresome character, in the hands of a less capable actress.
But Allen takes the role and runs with it, delivering a portrayal that is equal parts funny and moving.
Director Minihan, milking the minimalist concept for all its worth, directs the film with a keen eye for visuals, and a deft handling of pacing and tone. This is basically a two-hander, between Allen's character, Molly, and the zombie chasing her, nicknamed Smalls, terrifically played by Juan Riedinger. And in the hands of Minihan, the film stays compelling, moody, and superbly entertaining.
There are a few dull moments in the middle section, and the sequence with the two prison escapees comes off as off key and gratuitous, but, for the most part, It Stains The Sands Red, manages to utilize the zombie genre playbook to its advantage, while adding depth, pathos, and plenty of invention, to create a mesmerizing tale of survival and redemption.
In 1980, Sam Raimi and company created a singular filmmaking experience that was visceral, stylish, and a bit insane. The Evil Dead, released in 1981, was a commercial and critical hit, launching the careers of director Sam Raimi, producer Robert Tapert, and actor Bruce Campbell. Two sequels followed, each wilder than the one before it, followed twenty years later by a stunning remake/sequel in 2013, directed by Fede Alvarez, and with creative input from Raimi and his team.
Now, more than forty years after the release of the original, comes Evil Dead Rise (2023), a loose sequel/reboot set in a crumbling high rise.
Written and directed by Lee Cronin, Evil Dead Rise is a disappointment on almost all fronts, taking a franchise that is known for its originality and energy, and delivering a competent but bland and forgettable entry that seems more interested in subtext than scares.
A few years ago, when it was announced that Cronin would be the next filmmaker chosen to play in the Evil Dead sandbox, I was genuinely surprised. Cronin’s only feature, The Hole in The Ground, is a depressing, dour, and pretty style-less horror drama. Watching it, you never get the sense that Cronin - whose humorless, neo-goth style is pretty at odds with everything Evil Dead is known for - is not the right filmmaker for the job. Evil Dead Rise proves it.
Cronin’s script transports the proceedings from a cabin in the woods, to a dilapidated high rise in a bad neighborhood, another isolated setting in which the deadites, the evil spirits of the unholy book, the necronomicon, can wreak havoc.
But the setting is never used to its fullest potential. Instead, Cronin presents us with a single mother, whose tattoos and snarky attitude is supposed to make her “a strong female character”, I suppose. But since she isn’t developed in any meaningful way, and seems bored of her own children, she just comes off as extremely unlikable. As for the rest of the characters, they barely make a dent in one’s memory. Just more fodder for the cannon.
And Cronin seems to be intent on taking the franchise into a sort of po-faced, emo direction, resulting in one dour viewing experience. Because, as any good storyteller knows, if you want to get serious, you need to have likable, relatable characters that the audience can root for, that the audience can feel for when they get hurt, or maimed, or dismembered, things that Cronin subjects his cast of characters to relentlessly.
And then there’s the muddled subtext about feminism, fear of motherhood, “the male gaze”, and other heady subjects, which have no place in The Evil Dead franchise, which has alway been about terror, imagination, and style over substance. As for gender-swapping, The 2013 Evil Dead remake already did it, and did it wonderfully, under the guidance of writer/director Alvarez, who delivered a sleek, punchy Evil Dead entry that hit all the right notes and then some, while exuding plenty of energy and originality. In other words, it was both contemporary and timeless. Both respectful to the original, and intent on creating something new. Cronin’s film doesn’t have any of that. Instead, it’s just another well-made horror movie with plenty of gore and technical trickery, but no heart or soul. Just plenty of posturing, faux sentimentality, and one hell of a downer streak.
Evil Dead Rise is not a worthy addition to the series. Hell, it barely feels like an Evil Dead movie at all.
And while The Evil Dead movies have always been more about style than substance, Evil Dead Rise ends up having little substance, and even less style.
With Halloween (2018), co-writer/director David Gordon Green made his intentions clear. He basically took the template and prestige of John Carpenter's original masterpiece and used them to create something of an abomination: a soulless and mostly artless horror movie that basically inverts everything Carpenter did in his original. Carpenter's movie was elegant, restrained, and full of atmosphere. Green's was crass, sloppy, and virtually devoid of any flavor. Carpenter's ending was haunting and subdued. Green's ending was preachy and over-the-top.
And now we come to Green's sequel, Halloween Kills (2022). There isn't much to add, really. It's a tad less crass, but it's even more meat-headed than Halloween (2018), and Green amps up the violence to sickening levels, throwing everything but the kitchen sink in a cynical attempt to appeal to the lowest common denominator. While Green's Halloween script's left something to be desired, the writing in Halloween Kills is, for the most part, abysmal, with characters speaking stiff dialogue and acting in ways that defy all logic. Add to that Green and company's including a "message" about the madness of crowds in a film that is already politically-corrected to within an inch of its life, and you get something that is simultaneously bland, offensive, and forgettable.
Although Halloween Kills has its moments, they are few and far between, and one can only guess why Carpenter would add his name and blessing to such a mess of a sequel to his beloved classic.
Ahmed Khalifa is a filmmaker and novelist. He is the writer/director of several short films and a feature, which was released on Netflix, and the author of a number of novels and short stories, including the YA horror novel, Beware The Stranger, available on Amazon. He is also the host of The Dark Fantastic Podcast. Find him on Twitter @AFKhalifa and on Facebook @DFantasticPodcast
This low-key, low-budget horror film is a strange creature. At a glance, it looks like an Evil Dead/Cabin Fever rip-off, with a bunch of young folk staying at a cabin in the woods for a long weekend, only to discover, after one of them is found brutally murdered in the woods, that there is an otherworldly killer amongst them. But as it turns out, Dead Mary is quite a bit more than that.
The film begins with a lengthy sequence introducing us to the cast of characters (which range from the unfaithful husband, to a guy who just broke up with his girlfriend, to the newbie girlfriend of one of the guys, who feels like an outsider, to the strong-willed young woman who flirts with the boyfriend of one of her friends), then shifts gears to become something similar to Invasion of The Body Snatchers, with a shape-shifting creature picking the characters off one by one. Then it shifts gears once more to become an apocalyptic thriller similar to The Thing. That's not to say that any of these aspects of the story is fully fleshed out or realized on a large scale. Far from it. This is a low-budget film, with almost no effects, and with minimal locations. So do the filmmakers pull it off? Yes. In spades.
Thanks to Robert Wilson's assured and stylish direction, which is pretty old-school, Peter Sheldrick and Christopher Warre Smets's solid script, and the young cast's earnest performances, the film turns out to be an effective and ambitious effort that manages to maintain the suspense throughout the whole running time, provide a couple of truly disturbing sequences, create an atmosphere of foreboding, and end on a darkly humorous and ambiguous note, things which many similar films with higher budgets fail to pull off (Cabin in The Woods, anyone?).
Although the plot is far from original, and the film has some pacing and script hiccups along the way, this is a minor classic that is entertaining and fresh.
Ahmed Khalifa is a filmmaker and novelist. He is the writer/director of several short films and a feature, which was released on Netflix, and the author of a number of novels and short stories, including the YA horror novel, Beware The Stranger, available on Amazon. He is also the host of The Dark Fantastic Podcast. Find him on Twitter @AFKhalifa and on Facebook @Dark.Fantastic.AK·Writer
Dark Night of The Scarecrow (1981) is one of those "quiet horror" films that sneak up on you. At first glance, the film looks like a hundred other dated, unpolished, made-for-TV movie from the late 1970s and early 80s. And the opening sequence, with its maudlin performances and rushed pace, doesn't help change that first impression. But then a brutal execution of a mentally challenged character by an angry mob takes place, and the film takes a turn into a whole different class of moviemaking.
On the one hand, it has the trappings of a typical revenge from beyond the grave thriller. But as it moves along, it becomes more psychological, darker, and nastier. With a minimalist script by J.D. Feigelson (who originally wrote it as an independent feature film before CBS bought it), and unfussy but effective direction by Frank DeFelitta, it works quite well, with an assured pace, an eerie mood, and an ending that is the stuff of nightmares.
There is a reason why Dark Night of the Scarecrow remains a cult favorite to this day, and that is, decades on, it still has the ability to haunt and frighten without resorting to jump scares, dramatic histrionics, and fancy cinematography. This is American Gothic stripped to the core, and a movie that manages to work despite its shortcomings. Highly recommended.
Ahmed Khalifa is a filmmaker and novelist. He is the writer/director of the feature film Wingrave, released on Netflix, and the author of a number of novels and short stories, including the YA horror novel, Beware The Stranger, available on Amazon. Find him on Twitter @AFKhalifa and on Facebook @Dark.Fantastic.AK·Writer
The final entry in the Hammer Studio "Frankenstein Series" starring Peter Cushing as Baron Frankenstein, is, perhaps, the most underrated film in the entire franchise.
The first entry in the series, The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) is lauded for its groundbreaking visuals and make-up effects; Frankenstein Created Woman (1967), a favorite of director Martin Scorsese's, is usually singled out for its metaphysical meditations and dream-like quality; and Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969) is notorious for its goriness and nastiness of tone. But Frankenstein and The Monster From Hell (1974), in its own modest way, is arguably better than all of the aforementioned films, mainly because of its script, which is thematically coherent and flows wonderfully, allowing Cushing, one of the most underrated British actors in cinematic history, to deliver an elegant and subdued performance, adding even more layers to the nefarious title character.
Director Terence Fisher, in his last feature film, helms the picture with a steady hand, giving the film a muscular visual style and a terrific pace, delivering a disturbing and elegiac climax to the entire series.
Who could have thought that after six films and seventeen years, Fisher, Cushing, and co. could deliver such a full-blooded and thoughtful Gothic-horror film? Highly recommended.
Ahmed Khalifa is a filmmaker and novelist. He is the writer/director of the feature film Wingrave, released on Netflix, and the short film Seance. He is alsothe author of a number of novels and short stories, including the YA horror novel, Beware The Stranger, available on Amazon.
One of a number of Stephen King adaptations produced by movie mogul Dino De Laurentis, Sometimes They Come Back (1991) premiered on US television in 1991 to little fanfare. But, years later, it as become a minor cult favorite, and has spawned two direct-to-video sequels. It’s easy to see why.
Sometimes They Come Back is a very affecting film, with a notable and touching performance by Tim Matheson, as a school teacher running away from the ghosts of a childhood trauma involving a bunch of older bullies and the death of his older brother. Returning thirty years later to his hometown as a husband and father, he tries to settle in and focus on starting a new life. But soon, ghosts from his past invade his life, in the form of a bunch of bullies with a striking resemblance to the ones who killed his brother thirty years ago, and who start terrorizing him and his students.
What makes the film work are a number of things: Matheson’s invested and heartfelt performance, an engaging script that astutely captures Stephen King’s voice and serves as a greatest hits collection of his main motifs, and tight direction by genre veteran Tom McLoughlin (aided by stylish cinematography by Bryan England).
But what marrs the film to a degree are the horror elements, which are poorly handled, and come off as hokey and intrusive. Schlocky make-up effects also don’t help matters. As a psychological thriller with supernatural overtones, the film works pretty well. But when the film focuses on the gang of bullies and their otherwordly abilities, it falters, with the shift in tone jarring, to say the least.
Still, there’s much to like about Sometimes They Come Back, as this is a compelling, occasionally heartfelt, and pretty atmospheric supernatural thriller, and, despite its faults, is sure to please Stephen King fans.
Trivia: The film was shot both for a theatrical release overseas and a TV premiere in the US on CBS. This explains the film’s top notch cinematography and the film’s careful compositions, which were framed for a 2.35: 1 theatrical aspect ratio.
Making a sequel to Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining (1980) was always a dicey proposition. How do you make a sequel to a film considered by many to be one of the best horror films of all-time, and directed by one of the most analyzed and revered filmmakers ever? It’s a daunting task, and one that is conceptually problematic as well. But in 2013, Stephen King, the author of the original novel on which The Shining was based, and the writer/producer of his own mini-series adaptation of the novel, released the long-awaited Doctor Sleep, a sequel focusing on the troubled life of Danny Torrance, the son of Jack, played by Jack Nicholson in the movie version.
But Doctor Sleep turned out to be one of King’s most underwhelming books and a huge disappointment to fans of the original novel, who expected something with more originality, atmosphere, and scares than what King ultimately delivered. In comes writer/director Mike Flangan, a talented but underachieving genre filmmaker whose credits include the bland Occulus (2013) and the terrific Gerald’s Game (2017), a muscular, haunting adaptation of one of King’s worst novels.
Many hoped that lightning would strike twice. Maybe Flanagan could do with Doctor Sleep what he managed to do so well with Gerlad’s Game? Alas, that didn't turn out to be the case. Doctor Sleep (2019), starring Ewan McGregor as the adult Danny Torrance, is a bloated, tremendously disappointing movie, more so because it contains some great visual ideas and some truly inspired deviations from the source material. But what brings the whole thing down are Flanagan’s approach and choices.
Over his career, Flanagan has shown a flair for atmosphere and visual storytelling. But he has also shown a lamentable penchant for a certain dour tone, an off-putting mix of sentimentality and aloofness, that rears its ugly head in almost everything he makes (Netflix’s The Haunting of Hill House is a glaring case in point). In Doctor Sleep, this po-faced, elegiac tone makes the film a struggle to watch in one sitting, whether it is the theatrical version, or the 3 hour director’s cut released on home video. Dialogue scenes, never Flanagan’s strong point, go on forever and have a monotonous, repetitive quality, while the film’s pace is bumpy and distracting. Add to that that the villains, the weakest part of the novel, fare even worse here, with a terribly miscast Rebecca Ferguson delivering an annoying performance as Rose The Hat, a kind of succubus with a taste for children with psychic abilities. And then there’s the strange choice of focusing on the battle of wits between a child character called Abra and the villains, instead of on Danny Torrance’s struggle with his past and his inherited alcoholism, the strongest part of King’s book, which, in turn, gives Ewan McGregor very little of interest to play. Instead, he delivers a decent if forgettable performance that is so understated, it’s borderline mumblecore. Then there’s the climax, which tries to honor Kubrick’s original, King’s book, and Flanagan’s own vision of the story, with jarring results.
Still, Doctor Sleep has its merits, including a wonderful turn by the underrated Carl Lumbly as Dick Hallorann, filling in for the late Scatman Crothers. And although the movie is a misfire, it’s an interesting one, and is worth a watch for fans of King’s and Kubrick’s work.
Ambitious attempt at a modern Gothic tale is a sophomoric, overwrought, and incoherent mess of a movie. Some of the visuals are alluring, and genre veteran Catriona McColl gives an admirably intense performance. But the uneven direction, stilted dialogue, and frenetic editing, make this a near unwatchable experience and a missed opportunity.
One of the best horror-comedies you've never seen, Cooties (2014) is a fun lover letter to 80s horror/zombie movies. Like Final Girls (2015), Cooties' strengths lie in its near-perfect mix of reverence and send-up, with the filmmakers paying tribute to a genre they both love and find silly at the same time.
The plot: A group of teachers get stuck in a school where the students suddenly start turning into cannibalistic monsters (i.e zombies), and they have to do everything they can to survive, including facing their own fears and weaknesses. Saying anymore would ruin the fun for you, as this is a film filled to the brim with funny scenes, surprisingly hardcore gore, and a number of hilarious lines, not to mention a cast (that includes Elijah Wood, Rainn Wilson, and Leigh Whannell) that seems to be having a blast. The score by Kreng is also retro-synth music at its best.
This is also a rather conspicuous debut for Leigh Whannell as an actor/writer without his partner James Wan, and he proves himself admirably, delivering, along with co-writer Ian Brennan, a script that is original, funny, scary, and memorable.
Even if it is a bit lacking in technical merits - the direction is occasionally too conventional for its own good - this is an energetic, fun, tense, and endlessly entertaining horror-comedy, and a must see for fans of the zombie movies of the 70s and 80s. Unmissable.
N.B. Look out for a great appearance by none other than Peter Kwong (Big Trouble in Little China) as Mr. Hitachi!
