If Reddit is good for anything, it’s random videos. Our newest entry is a short claymation film called “More” by Mark Osborne. It’s depressing and absolutely brilliant. The song is “Elegia” by New Order, and it complements the video perfectly. Enjoy.

On the heels of the gory work safety video is a bunch of German chicks ripping off limbs and biting off ears for lingerie.

Is it weird that I’m a little turned on?

Pseudo-pornographic horror starring one of the ugliest actors in the history of cinema by one of the coolest directors alive, Lars von Trier. To say I’m excited is an understatement. For those unfamiliar with von trier, check out Dancer in the Dark. Not only will the ending make you depressed as Hell, but you’ll rethink your opinion of Bjork as more than just that annoying and eccentric Icelandic warbler who attacks journalists in airports.

“Brains we can believe in.”

Director: Pascal Laugier
Year: 2008
Country: France

I’ve been doing a bit of research for a chapter in the book I will probably never write on the “New Wave of French Horror,” the foreign bastard cousin of torture porn that seems to have taken the world of horror by storm. Ostensibly a subset of the “New French Extremity” label, a term coined by Artforum critic James Quandt to describe a collection of transgressive films by French directors over roughly the past ten years or so, these films are few in number yet have managed to become ingrained in the collective thought of die-hard horror fans as being brilliant in nearly every conceivable way. The reviews are often glowing, or rather, what can be considered glowing when compared against the typically vile reviews given to American horror films, and they make their rounds at all the popular films festivals, stateside or otherwise.

In an interview with Pascal Laugier at DVDTimes, the controversial director casts aside the notion that France is experiencing a resurgence of quality films in the horror genre, citing the relative difficulty in getting financing for a horror picture, especially one such as Martyrs.

…What I mean is that even the horror fans, the French ones, they are very condescending about French horror films. It’s still a hell to find the money, a hell to convince people that we are legitimate to make this kind of movie in France. So I know from an American point of view and probably an English one too, there is a kind of new wave of modern horror film, but it’s not true. It’s still hell.

The genre is hardly given credence in France, so the task of proving it’s a credible genre is on the filmmaker. It then is no wonder the few films that do come out of France are widely popular stateside, where the best we can hope for is the remake du jour or another film about zombies. One of these films is the wildly popular Martyrs by the aforementioned Pascal Laugier.

Martyrs fucks your brain into oblivion, dispensing annoying foreplay in favor of an hour and a half long tantric mindfuck. When you’re done you’re exhausted and a little ashamed. It possesses a type of dichotomy, both thematically and stylistically, that makes for a confusing yet ultimately satisfying ride. The film is neatly bisected into two different sub-genres; a bloody, terrifying, and utterly depressing revenge film gives way to a slow crescendo of brutality and utter depravity. The first half of the film centers on Lucie, a young woman who, after being imprisoned for more than a year, escapes her captors and ends up in an orphanage. At first catatonic, she eventually opens up to Anna, the only person at the orphanage to whom she gives any information as to what happened. Lucie, in addition to being haunted by the horrific memories, is tormented and attacked by an unseen creature. Fast forward fifteen years. Lucie has tracked down those she believes to be responsible for her imprisonment all that time ago. Madness ensues. The second half of the film centers on her friend Anna, who unwittingly stumbles across the dungeon that served as Lucie’s home and enters the same world that Lucie fought so hard to destroy.

…what? So I suck at synopses, so sue me.

Martyrs is a brutal thrill ride punctuated by all the elements necessary in constructing an effective horror film. Laugier got all the elements right. The music is composed by French duo Seppuku Paradig and alternates appropriately from bleak to ethereal; the blood flows like wine, though gore is conspicuously absent until the end, allowing the film to avoided the dreaded “torture porn” moniker; the acting is spot on by all, with Morjana Alaoui turning in an impressive performance as the brutalized Anna, carrying the latter half of the film with her transition from emotional to strong to stoic. The movie is truly the sum of its parts, and they all coalesce into near perfection.

Laugier’s attempt at conveying utter brutality succeeds admirably, though not without the minor hiccups that plague the genre. Unlike his contemporary Alexandre Aja, Laugier manages to keep the suspension of disbelief to a minimum, and thus not allowing it to interfere with the overall impact the film has on the viewer. At one point I became fairly convinced that Laugier simply copied small chunks of the script in an effort to make it longer, though the reasoning behind this becomes apparent with the balls-out crazy finale.

Martyrs pushes the boundaries of the genre, delving into situations that vilify it with nary a care.  Laugier embraces the extreme. My only hope now is a cage match to the death between him and Alexandre Aja.

Director: Tony Krantz
Year: 2007
Country: USA

Horror is a delicate genre and perhaps the most difficult to execute properly with any sort of consistency. All too often the genre lapses into self-parody, and the intent of the filmmaker is lost. This can occur through a variety of reasons; some more common than others, especially given the subjective nature of fear. Poor direction, careless CGI, and a whole host of other factors can easily turn a horror film into an unintentional comedy. Unfortunately, this occurs with such regularity that the genre has become mostly a blight on the industry, with genuinely good and terrifying horror films and thrillers escaping the radar.

Every so often, however, you encounter a film that toys with convention and with genre, and, despite any perceived flaws, manages to successfully amalgamate abject horror with real-life drama. When I was first told of Sublime, it was within the context of my own screenplay; the theme of sleep paralysis and lucid dreaming is rare in any genre, so to hear of a film that explores the subject is of great interest to me. Thanks to a very pretty girl, I was given the opportunity to watch this film the other night. My twenty minute nap toward the end notwithstanding, the film was highly original, albeit slightly predictable, and possessed one of the greatest and most heart-wrenching endings I have ever seen.

Directed by Tony Krantz and written by Erik Jendresen, Sublime tells the story of George Grieves who, on the day after his birthday, checks into Mt. Abaddon Hospital for a seemingly routine colonoscopy. Unfortunately, a mix-up confuses him with another patient undergoing a sympathectomy, a procedure that cures “sweaty palms.” Upon awakening, things begin to take a turn for the worse as he begins to experience a series of bizarre visions and events, none of which seem grounded in reality.

Despite my impression of the film, it possesses a singular flaw when viewed within the context of horror; lucky for us, this flaw leads to one of the most brilliant endings I have ever seen, and indeed, one of the more brilliant and original films I have come across in God knows how long. Despite being billed as a horror movie, the incorporation of a soundtrack that is, for lack of a better term, inappropriate for the true conveyance of fear, allows the film to ever-so subtly skirt the boundaries between both horror and drama.

This leads us to the ending. It was, as I have boasted repeatedly, brilliant in every respect. This brilliance, however, lends itself more to a dramatic feature than it does a horror film. There is a key moment in the end where, if the screen were to abruptly cut to black, would make it ideal for the horror genre. But it doesn’t. It continues; yet it doesn’t drag on, mind you. It manages to seamlessly change genres, heightened by the aforementioned soundtrack and absolutely superb direction, to the point where they seem to blend together. Terrifying but real. A rare treat in the world of horror.

Beyond this, the film as a whole is impressive. Tom Cavanagh, known primarily as a comedic actor, puts on an impressive performance as George Grieves, handling the dramatic tension and terror with ease. The remainder of the cast is relatively unimpressive, but not enough to drag down the film. The focus is on George, and only George, a fact that becomes all to real at the explosive finale. The direction is solid though by no means special; yet it is Krantz’ unique eye that gives to us this intermingling of genres.

At first I was confused with the direction the film slowly took. Was it a drama, or was it horror? Then I realized it could easily be both. Ignoring the hackneyed horror poster, the film is terrifyingly real; real possibilities that manifest into real fears, resulting in one of the most original and impressive films I have seen in a long, long time.

Director: Simon Hunter
Year: 2008
Country: USA

This review might contain some minor spoilers.

I honestly don’t know where to start with this review. I was going to start off with a Uwe Boll joke, but that would be unfair to Uwe Boll. At least he tries. Then I was going bring into question the credentials of the writer but abandoned that when I saw he wrote Event Horizon, which I adore.  Then I was going to make a Thomas Jane joke, but that’s just too fucking easy. Instead I’ll just say this: Mutant Chronicles is a film destined to go down in the annals of history as the Sci-Fi Channel exclusive that somehow managed to escape the shackles of late night cable television and unleash its fury upon the unsuspecting populace.

Fool me once, shame on you.

I’m still trying to decide what exactly I just watched. Loosely based upon a paper-and-pen role playing game of the same name, Mutant Chronicles tells of a machine from space that does little more than turn people into bloodthirsty mutants. Unleashed during a war after laying dormant, the mutants conquer the world in less than two months, dragging those they don’t kill into the machine to become all mutant-y. Repeat ad infinitum. A motley crew of soldiers is gathered together to descend deep into the earth to blow up the machine and end the wave of mutants.

The cast of the film is rather impressive. John Malkovich, despite less than ten minutes of screen time, manages to prove than even the most talented of actors can’t save a movie like this. Ron Perlman stars as Brother Samuel, the man responsible for leading the soldiers into the earth. He looks suspiciously like Fred Gwynne, leading me to believe he didn’t die in 1993 and was simply absorbed by Perlman; Thomas Jane plays Mitch Hunter, the de facto leader due to his abrasive “who gives a fuck” attitude toward everything; Devon Aoki plays Valerie, a hardened soldier and single mother who looks nineteen; and Sean Pertwee plays Nathan, a comrade of Hunter’s who manages to fulfill the duties of his contract which states he should die a horrible death in pretty much every movie he’s ever been in. There are a few more, but they’re relatively unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and do little more than serve as fodder for the mutants throughout the film.

One can imagine that a relatively B-list ensemble cast could do even the poorest script a modicum of justice; but John Lennon is dead and by extension so is the hope that a movie centered on a giant subterranean machine that created mutants Hell-bent on taking over a steam punk-laden world could actually be made into a respectable sci-fi/action film. While the script was indeed terrible, providing little room for anything that can be considered decent acting, the film did have potential; alas, it was ruined by shoddy CGI and uninspired and oftentimes annoying direction. Filmed in a style reminiscent of Sin City, the blood was colorful enough to be considered cartoony, its ridiculousness bolstered only by the haphazard way in which it was filmed. At times it took on the feel of a video game, with blood splattering on the screen and POV shots being the norm during some of the fight scenes. Apparently no one watched Doom before filming.

So what made Mutant Chronicles worth watching?

She did. Anna Walton. She’s fucking sexy. And she’s British, which makes her sexier. She spends most of the films absolutely silent, only moving when she needs to cut the fuck out of some poorly rendered mutants. At the end of the film she speaks, which makes her even sexier ’cause of her accent.

That’s it. That’s the only reason to watch this movie. A mute Brit with a hot accent and killer legs. Or, conversely, you can download The Burrowers and watch that. I hear it’s pretty damned good.

I suppose with the recent passing of Easter and all things zombie Jesus, an article on the walking dead is appropriate.

If there’s a social hierarchy among monsters, zombies are not at the top of the list. They may not even be on the list. They’re not cool like werewolves. There’s no Warren Zevon song about them. They’re not classy like Dracula and Frankenstein, who can trace their lineage back to respectable 19th century novels. All zombies have is a bunch of George Romero movies. – Lev Grossman, Time Magazine

Really? That’s all they have?

Lev Grossman’s article gives us an abbreviated glimpse at the seemingly sudden surge in popularity of zombies in popular culture and what the future has in store for the walking dead. Citing the recent popularity of Twilight, Grossman considers vampires to be the “IT” monster of the past few years; suave and debonair, they’re more appealing and certainly less frightening than zombies, what with their rotting flesh and uncontrollable desire to eat human brains; but one mustn’t overlook the beautiful irony inherent in Twilight’s success: Stephanie Meyer’s poorly-written, romanticized look at teenage vampires has turned a nation of tweens into mindless zombies. J. K. Rowling may have begun the trend, but she is at the very least mildly competent as a writer. To quote Stephen King, “Stephanie Meyer can’t write worth a darn.” Yet despite the success of Twilight and a few other modest vampire repositories (Let the Right One In, for example), vampires have never been as popular as zombies, especially in recent years. In between fleeting moments of celebrity, vampires have played and always will play second fiddle to zombies.

The perceived rise in popularity of the zombie has been slow and steady, not sudden like Grossman suggests. We have indeed been inundated with zombies in a variety of mediums over the past two years or so; but this trend began years ago. Zombies have always been popular in video games (Resident Evil), and with Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later in 2002 and Zach Snyder’s re-imagining of Dawn of the Dead in 2004, zombies began their slow, lumbering climb to the top nearly a half decade ago. It didn’t come out of nowhere, it just took a while to gain the level of popularity it holds today. With the recent success of World War Z, zombies are poised to take over the literary world as well.

Grossman spends a good portion of his article on Seth Grahame-Smith, the auteur behind Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, who states “There are these large groups of faceless people somewhere in the world who mean to do us harm and cannot be reasoned with. Zombies are sort of familiar territory.” One can deduce he is referring to extremists, in whatever capacity; comparing zombies to religious fundamentalists is hardly new territory, however unspoken it might be. The recent Easter holiday gave to anti-theists much fodder for the comparison of religion to mindless acceptance, the latter of which an appropriate mantra for both zombies and fundamentalism, religious or otherwise. So from this Grahame-Smith is saying, and Grossman presumably agreeing with, that the inherent qualities of zombies that make them so terrifying – their insatiable hunger and mindless tenacity to destroy – is parallel to those who wish to do us harm. Maybe a bit of a stretch on my part, but credible in its own right.

This notion of tooling with and reworking classic literature (or in this case, the epic bore that is anything by Jane Austen) is not entirely unique, though it has certainly never been met with such fanfare before. Kim Paffenroth of Gospel of the Living Dead has utilized his background as a religious studies scholar by “reworking” Dante’s Inferno so that zombies serve as the poet’s inspiration. Another book exists that attempts to rewrite history, citing zombies as the impetus behind several major disasters and events throughout time. If only I could remember the name. A gold star for whomever can find it!

As the article progresses, Grossman shifts gears and relates the tenacity of the zombie to mankind’s perseverance and ability to survive the tumultuous period in which we’re currently living. Zombie-as-metaphor hasn’t been this popular since George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead, yet Grossman attempts, albeit tenuously, to draw a parallel between the rise of the revenant’s popularity to the principle conflicts in which our nation has become embroiled: economic turmoil and foreign conflict. As a blogger writing under the guise of a disillusioned academic, I think the association of zombies with more than mindless entertainment is nothing more than a desire to make them more relevant than they really are. One can extrapolate metaphor from the walking dead just as easily as they can Frankenstein’s monster or the Creature from the Black Lagoon; the parallels between their mindlessness and mankind’s is obvious (e.g. Shaun of the Dead). Unfortunately, the zombie has long since lapsed into parody, and has become nothing more than mindless entertainment.

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1890384,00.html

Stuart Gordon is an adaptation whore. Though he has relegated his career primarily to the absolute bastardization of Lovecraft’s greatest works, he has branched out and directed adaptations of other novels; most of it managed to be total crap, but that’s beside the point. Most recently, however, he borrowed from real life events and directed Stuck, a 2007 sleeper hit that has managed to garner relatively positive reviews across the horror community.

The film is based on the true and fucking surreal story of Chante Jawan Mallard. On October 26, 2001, Mallard, drugged up and drunk, hit thirty-seven year old Gregory Biggs, the force of which caused him to get lodged in her windshield. Instead of being a sensible human being and taking him to the hospital, she left him to die in her garage, still stuck in the windshield while she went inside and had sex with her boyfriend. She then enlisted the help of her friend and another to dispose of the body and set fire to the car to destroy the evidence. She is now in jail, hopefully rotting.

This is basically the plot of Stuck. Mena Suvari plays Brandi Boski, a a retirement home caregiver with a predilection for effeminate black men and ecstasy. Stephen Rea plays Tom Bardo, a down-on-his-luck former project manager whose string of bad luck culminates in becoming lodged in the windshield of Brandi’s car after a night of drinking and excessive drug use. A few bits and pieces were changed here and there but it’s more or less a carbon copy of the actual situation. Throw in some back story and something to lose (just being a sorry excuse for a human being is hard to translate onto film), and you have Gordon’s little hit.

In a film like this, the burden of providing dramatic tension lies square on the shoulders of the actors. Sadly, Mena Suvari can’t act, so it’s up to Stephen Rea to pick up the slack; but Stuck’s main problem arises in its all too infrequent usage of Stephen Rea and his plight. In between genuinely tense and disturbing scenes are excessively used sundry scenes that do little to further the story and everything to make you wonder just why the fuck anyone would cast Mena Suvari in anything. No one cares if her boyfriend is having an affair; that should be the least of her worries.

The film possesses a double meaning: not only is Stephen Rea literally stuck in the windshield of a piece of shit car, but Suvari is stuck between a rock and a hard place. Her attempts at saving her career by not reporting this atrocious crime only dig her deeper into a hole, and in the end results in her downfall. Unfortunately for us, the film is more Suvari than it is Rea; the film could have worked, albeit with a bit more difficulty, within the confines of the garage and the interactions between Rea and Suvari. Instead we’re treated to extraneous drama, none of which have any real bearing on the plot as a whole.

Stuck possessed all the elements of a genuinely frightening and disturbing thriller, but managed to keep them to a minimum. Paranoia and fear mean nothing when you have Mena Suvari in cornrows tossing out pithy dialogue worthy of the next American Pie movie. Dramatic actor she ain’t.

“I wrapped a movie called ‘Zombieland,’ in which I was constantly under assault by zombies, then flew to New York, still very much in character,” Harrelson said in a statement issued Friday by his publicist.

“With my daughter at the airport I was startled by a paparazzo, who I quite understandably mistook for a zombie,” he said.