Author Archives: surgeons of horror

The Creep Tapes: Mark Duplass Returns in a Chilling New Series That Brings the Horror Home

12 Tuesday Nov 2024

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As horror fans know, some of the most unsettling scares don’t come from elaborate effects or high budgets—they emerge from intimate, character-driven stories that crawl under the skin. The Creep Tapes, a Shudder Original Series premiering on November 15, aims to deliver just that. Building on the spine-tingling foundation of the 2014 cult hit Creep, the series reunites the original creators, Mark Duplass and Patrick Brice, who brought us the disturbingly charming yet unnervingly unstable protagonist, Josef. With Duplass returning to the role of the enigmatic serial killer, this series promises an eerie experience that pushes boundaries and keeps audiences riveted.

The original Creep film thrived on its low-budget charm, turning a stripped-down, found-footage setup into an intensely unsettling experience. The series appears poised to follow suit, proving once again that horror doesn’t need lavish sets or CGI to get viewers’ hearts pounding. Here, the atmosphere is everything—raw, grainy footage brings a voyeuristic quality that makes each scene feel real, as if the terror is unfolding in the next room over. The simplicity of the setup—a videographer unknowingly documenting his own descent into darkness—creates a dread that builds with every frame. With The Creep Tapes, Shudder taps into the appeal of Creep and Creep 2, delivering a gritty, claustrophobic look into the killer’s mind that only becomes more menacing with each episode.

At the heart of this series’ potential is Duplass’s haunting performance. His portrayal of a maniac whose motives are as confusing as they are sinister is nothing short of mesmerising. Playing a predator who is both disarming and unhinged, Duplass infuses the character with a subtle, unpredictable menace that’s as charming as it is chilling. It’s this very duality that made the original film so effective, drawing audiences in with Josef’s unsettlingly friendly nature only to shatter any semblance of safety with his underlying menace. With Duplass back at the helm, viewers can expect an even deeper dive into this chilling character, one that will likely push The Creep Tapes into “must-watch” territory for horror fans seeking psychological tension and atmosphere over jump scares.

This new series amplifies the simplicity that made the original such a success. As each videographer steps into Josef’s twisted game, the narrative explores not only their harrowing experiences but the dangerously manipulative charms of the killer himself. The viewer becomes a silent observer, drawn closer and closer to the horrors unfolding on screen. And with Duplass and Brice’s creative control, fans can expect a series that honours the first two films while expanding the lore, providing more insight into the mind of this manipulative predator and his increasingly sinister tactics.

For those looking for horror that strips away Hollywood polish to reveal something raw, The Creep Tapes may be a dark horse that leaves a lasting impression. In an age of sleek, glossy productions, Duplass’s Josef reminds us that horror is sometimes most potent when it’s uncomfortably close, blurred, and right in your face. Prepare for The Creep Tapes to lure you in and make you question if you’re ever truly alone—on or off camera.

  • Saul Muerte

The Creep Tapes – Shudder Original Series premieres exclusively on Shudder and AMC+ from Friday 15 November

– Saul will be posting weekly ep reviews each week, so keep your eyes peeled.

Dark Desires and Eternal Shadows: Revisiting Interview with the Vampire’s Seductive Legacy

11 Monday Nov 2024

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Neil Jordan’s Interview with the Vampire (1994) is a lush and lavish exploration of eternal life, where the shadows of New Orleans and Paris are as inviting as they are haunting. Adapted from Anne Rice’s celebrated novel, the film is a powerful blend of gothic romanticism, bloodlust, and erotic tension, but its leading men—Tom Cruise as the charismatic vampire Lestat and Brad Pitt as the tormented Louis—remain a point of contention to this day. With Rice’s novel as its beating heart, Jordan’s adaptation brought a nuanced, sensuous exploration of love, horror, and longing that has endured for nearly three decades, despite those famously bold casting choices.

Jordan’s direction underscores the sensuality that made Rice’s novel iconic. The story is imbued with themes of lust and longing, extending beyond mortal desire into a deep, predatory hunger that consumes its characters, literally and emotionally. Cinematographer Philippe Rousselot bathes the world in warm, seductive lighting that makes the vampire’s nocturnal existence a beautiful nightmare. The story’s vampire leads are creatures driven by a desire that is both deeply romantic and undeniably grotesque, elevating the traditional horror elements of vampirism into something more profound and captivating.

The two vampire leads are captivating in their own way, but critics were polarized by the casting of Cruise and Pitt as Lestat and Louis. For Rice, Lestat was an iconic antihero, an exuberant villain with a touch of madness and charisma that commands the screen. Cruise, already a megastar, seemed an odd choice for the role, and while his performance is flamboyant and committed, it doesn’t always capture the layered, dark humour or philosophical weight of Lestat. Pitt, as the brooding Louis, offers a more subdued, sorrowful portrayal, but at times it veers into passivity, making the character feel too reserved to fully connect with Lestat’s extravagance. In that sense, while Cruise and Pitt deliver star power and charisma, it’s arguable that they miss some of the existential torment and depth that Rice imbued in her protagonists.

Even so, Interview with the Vampire shines when it focuses on the delicate, almost familial connection between the vampires. The introduction of the child vampire Claudia, portrayed by an astonishingly talented Kirsten Dunst, injects a fresh dynamic into the film. Claudia’s tragedy, as a woman trapped in a child’s body, intensifies the film’s exploration of love, loss, and identity, with Dunst’s performance stealing many of the film’s most powerful moments. Claudia’s frustration with her unchanging form and her love-hate relationship with Louis and Lestat elevate Interview beyond a typical vampire tale into a complex character study of immortality’s price.

In the end, Interview with the Vampire is a mesmerizing, albeit imperfect, gothic romance—a film that drips with atmosphere and raw emotion. Jordan’s vision, although sometimes hindered by casting choices, remains a powerful cinematic translation of Rice’s narrative, filled with seduction and existential dread. In fact, its occasional missteps in casting have ironically become part of its charm. Whether or not Cruise and Pitt were ideal as Lestat and Louis, their portrayals have carved a unique place in the pantheon of vampire lore.

Decades later, Interview with the Vampire holds its place as a defining piece of 1990s horror, a moody, romantic, and darkly beautiful portrait of an eternal struggle with mortality and morality. It’s a film that leaves you transfixed by its dark allure and makes you ponder what it truly means to live forever.

  • Saul Muerte

Smile 2: A Relentless Cycle of Horror with Few New Twists

11 Monday Nov 2024

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So here we are reviewing another sequel, and how long will we go this time before referring to the SOH list of what makes a good sequel?
Well for a start, Smile 2 does the right thing by starting soon after the last film, which (if you remember) ended with the lead character’s ex-boyfriend/cop friend Joel (played by Kyle Gallner) watching her self-immolate.
So, by the rules established from the first movie, that means the Smile Curse has been passed onto him.
And the opening of this new instalment deals with that, as we discover Joel at the end of his 6-day run (the length of the curse before the Smile Demon has to kill its host and choose another victim).
Having been put through the wringer that this creature puts you through, Joel’s course of action is very predictable in a: if-you’re-gonna-go-down-take- somebody-with-you kind of way.
From here we discover this film’s protagonist, Skye Riley (played by Charlie’s Angels / Aladdin’s Naomi Scott). A mega popstar who’s half Lady Gaga, half Britney Spears (at the time she was conceived by writer / director Parker Finn, that’s who he had to go off as inspiration, although today the only parallel you immediately think of is Tay Tay).
With the demon latched onto her, what ensues is 2 hours of the same sort of relentless trauma the original film’s lead – Rose Cotter – suffered through.
And that’s where we hit the crux of it all. The film’s spirit (as set by its predecessor) is to put the lead through relentless hell. Till she loses. And then the hell passes on to another for the next film.
It’s a cliché production line approach that one expects from this sequel, but hopes will have the courage to break. Or at least warp.

Spoiler alert, it doesn’t. But it does end with a twist that is both daring and limiting in terms of where it leaves off for Smile 3.
But that’s for that review. This is Smile 2, and essentially what this film does well – very well in fact – is exactly what it did the first-time round (see above re: hell).
There’s a nice old skool rhythm to Finn’s directing. Whether it be his audacious use of the pan function on his tripod head, or pretentious use of wide-angle lenses, or the gratuitous use of 70’s style GFX for the opening titles (all of which – as cinematic storytelling devices go – seem to be making a bit of
a comeback lately. Especially in other medium to small budget horrors like Barbarian and The Black Phone etc).
But does all this make Finn a leader or a follower?
All we know is that the afore mentioned thing this movie does well is also its prison.
For this Demon has an invincibility to it that makes it all so… pointless. There is nothing anyone can try to defeat it. And even then, they only start trying AFTER they chew up most of the movie runtime wondering if they are going crazy, believing they are not going crazy, and figuring out what is making them go crazy.
And even then, once they try stuff, there’s nothing this creature can’t defeat with a flick of the lazy writer’s wand…. Ie: “It was all in your head”.
For anything approaching a plan or a way to combat it is basically an illusion conjured by the demon itself to give you false hope, so why bother? Even the method that Scott’s Riley tries to beat the creature this time round feels eerily similar to the first film. So straight away you know it’s not gonna work.
And spoiler alert, when it doesn’t, you do feel decidedly annoyed. Because, as with the golden rule of writing (where the protagonist has to make the hard choice) you, as a storyteller HAVE to give your protagonist (and therefore your audience) hope. Otherwise there are no stakes, and instead what you are watching is porn.
Which is fine. Who doesn’t love porn? But porn is not great story-telling.

In terms of performance – Scott does a good job of portraying a mega star under the sort of strain unique to individuals who are also a living breathing multimillion-dollar brand.
And in her case, she is also combating a personal trauma in the form of a tragedy that takes place before the film (when do lead characters NOT have a harrowing event defining their backstories these days?)

The Prognosis:

Smile 2 has earned a lot at the box office and is a critical hit because admittedly it is a very good horror film. It’s just not a good film.
Oh, and also, Jack Nicholson’s son has a small part in it. Smile if you can pick him.

  • Antony Yee

Black Cab: A Promising Ride That Veers Off Course into Confusion

09 Saturday Nov 2024

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When Anne and Patrick stumble into a black cab after a rough night out, they’re expecting a typical ride home—a relief from the cold night and the tensions simmering between them. However, the journey quickly turns dark as the cabbie, initially cheery and talkative, veers off course and takes them down a haunting, deserted road. It’s not long before the couple realises they’re locked in, trapped with a man whose jovial front hides something far more sinister. The setup is promising, drawing viewers in with an eerie atmosphere and unsettling undertones as the cab glides through unknown territory. Nick Frost’s cabbie is a captivating presence, maintaining a blend of unnerving charm and cryptic intent that keeps you guessing, at least at first.

The initial intrigue fades, though, as the film’s promise gets buried under an overly complicated narrative. It hints at folklore and supernatural elements but becomes too tangled in its own mythology, leaving audiences grasping for clarity. What could have been a tight, suspenseful thriller becomes increasingly disjointed, as each twist raises more questions than it answers. The film’s ambition to intertwine folklore with psychological terror is admirable, but it ultimately muddies the plot rather than enhancing it. By the midway point, it’s difficult to know whether the driver is meant to be supernatural, insane, or something in between. This indecisiveness leaves viewers adrift, and the potential fear factor wanes as confusion grows.

Frost delivers a solid performance, balancing his sinister and offbeat personas with the kind of ambiguity that could have made for a terrifying antagonist. Unfortunately, the script doesn’t give him enough to work with, pulling him—and the story—in too many directions to sustain a cohesive character arc. Anne and Patrick’s characters, while positioned as central to the driver’s twisted motives, remain frustratingly thin, with little to root for in their strained relationship. Their lack of depth also makes it harder to invest in their fate, leaving the suspense feeling lukewarm as the stakes grow unclear.

While Black Cab certainly has moments that showcase a creepy atmosphere, the lack of a clear trajectory undermines the tension that should be building. The deserted road setting, dark and mist-filled, is effectively spooky, yet the narrative undercuts the potential of this location, losing itself in meandering explanations of haunted histories that detract from the urgency of the couple’s plight. As the film lurches towards its bewildering conclusion, the story collapses into a mishmash of horror clichés and unfulfilled setups.

For horror fans seeking a taut, edge-of-your-seat thriller, Black Cab may be disappointing. The movie teases a terrifying ride but fails to stay on track, bogged down by a script that confuses mystery with aimlessness. With a stronger focus and a leaner narrative, it might have delivered on its bold premise, but as it stands, Black Cab is a missed opportunity that only occasionally taps into the horror lurking in the dark.

  • Saul Muerte

In Memoriam: Tony Todd – A Towering Icon of Horror

09 Saturday Nov 2024

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The horror community has lost one of its most towering presences with the passing of Tony Todd, a beloved actor whose rich, resonant voice and formidable on-screen presence made him unforgettable. Known for his role as Candyman—the haunting figure who lured audiences into a story of terror, racial injustice, and folklore—Todd’s portrayal captured a timeless menace and a tragic allure that few others could have achieved. His work across film, television, and stage influenced generations, earning him a reputation as one of horror’s most enduring icons.

Born in Washington, D.C., Todd trained at the Eugene O’Neill National Theatre Institute, honing the craft that would make his performances powerful and deeply felt. Though he appeared in a wide range of genres, his lasting impact lies in the horror world. His breakthrough role in Night of the Living Dead (1990) positioned him as a new face in horror, but it was Candyman in 1992 that immortalized him. Directed by Bernard Rose and based on a story by Clive Barker, Candyman intertwined urban legend with societal themes, giving Todd a platform to bring depth to a character as sympathetic as he was terrifying.

Todd’s Candyman wasn’t merely a ghost story villain; he was a symbol of betrayal and vengeance, embodying the horrors of systemic injustices. His physical presence and chilling, honeyed voice gave Candyman a gravitas that turned what could have been a simple slasher film into a commentary on the cyclical nature of violence and despair. The hook-handed specter went on to haunt audiences for decades, and Todd reprised the role in sequels, keeping Candyman’s legend alive.

Beyond Candyman, Todd’s talents continued to bring richness to horror through roles in the Final Destination series, Hatchet, and countless other features. His versatility was evident in every role he played, from supernatural harbingers to resilient survivors, imbuing each character with a weight and intensity that horror fans revered. Todd’s impact also extended into television, with memorable appearances in shows like The X-Files, 24, and Star Trek, showcasing his range and enduring appeal across genres.

Tony Todd’s legacy is more than his roles; it is the dedication he showed to his craft and the connection he fostered with fans. He was a frequent presence at horror conventions, meeting admirers with genuine warmth and appreciation. His influence on horror has left an indelible mark, as has his kindness and humility in life.

As we mourn the passing of Tony Todd, we remember him not just as the boogeyman of our nightmares, but as a gifted actor and a cherished figure whose spirit will forever echo in the halls of horror. His voice, deep and unyielding, will always haunt the genre he helped define.

  • Saul Muerte

The Deadly Bees (1966): A Sting of Nostalgia Amidst B-Movie Buzz

08 Friday Nov 2024

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Freddie Francis’ The Deadly Bees may not have the same cultural cachet as his other horror offerings, but it brings with it a certain charm that’s hard to ignore. Written by Psycho author Robert Bloch, the film suffers somewhat from missed casting opportunities; Bloch had originally envisioned horror titans Boris Karloff and Christopher Lee in lead roles, but neither were available. This might have robbed the film of the eerie gravitas it aimed for, though it remains a curious entry in the 1960s horror catalogue.

In the absence of genre icons, Suzanna Leigh takes center stage as a pop singer sent to recuperate on a secluded island, only to find herself amidst a swarm of sinister, trained bees. Supported by Guy Doleman and Frank Finlay, Leigh provides a solid performance that keeps things engaging, even when the plot begins to unravel into the typical B-movie chaos. Doleman and Finlay hold their own with performances that embrace the film’s campiness without undercutting its more intense moments, giving the story a grounding it might otherwise lack.

Despite its flaws, The Deadly Bees is unmistakably Freddie Francis, with flashes of atmospheric tension and distinct visual flair. Known for his craftsmanship behind the camera, Francis injects a surprisingly effective suspense into scenes where the buzzing insects become the ominous harbingers of doom. The film’s strengths lie not in polished narrative but in its quirky nostalgia; it’s a feature that echoes the drive-in era of horror, trading complex thrills for straightforward, almost endearingly clunky frights. For those who fondly recall late-night horror viewings, The Deadly Bees offers a reminder of that unrefined yet entertaining genre spirit, leaving a mark that’s pleasantly out of place in horror history.

  • Saul Muerte

Shadows and Secrets: Eye of the Devil’s Haunting Descent into Gothic Horror

07 Thursday Nov 2024

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Eye of the Devil, directed by J. Lee Thompson, is an atmospheric Gothic thriller that dives into the shadows of rural France with a sophisticated mix of suspense, mystique, and ritualistic undertones. Adapted from the novel Day of the Arrow by Robin Estridge, the film is a hypnotic journey into the arcane—a chilling portrait of an ancient family curse lurking beneath a veneer of nobility. As the last black-and-white film released by MGM, Eye of the Devil serves as a haunting swan song for monochrome thrillers of its kind, delivering a visually striking experience.

The film’s magnetic pull begins with its stellar cast, headed by Deborah Kerr and David Niven, whose portrayal of a nobleman bound by ancient family duties brings both gravity and dread. Kerr, as the resolute yet vulnerable Catherine de Montfaucon, brings nuanced intensity, grounding the film’s surreal moments with an emotional weight that feels real and human. Niven, always a master of restrained expression, gives one of his most haunting performances, adding a foreboding edge to his noble character.

Rounding out the remarkable ensemble are Donald Pleasence, David Hemmings, and John Le Mesurier, each delivering layered performances that enhance the eerie atmosphere. Pleasence stands out in his role as a creepy village priest, an unsettling presence who is quietly complicit in the town’s disturbing traditions. Hemmings and Sharon Tate, in one of her earliest roles, exude an ethereal quality as brother-and-sister keepers of dark secrets. Tate, especially, captivates with a bewitching mix of innocence and menace that underscores the film’s ominous tone.

One of the film’s greatest strengths is its cinematography. Shot in crisp black-and-white, Eye of the Devil takes full advantage of its shadows and contrasts, imbuing each scene with a sense of haunting elegance. The off-kilter tone, aided by this stark visual style, reflects the otherworldly nature of the story and lends the film an unsettling beauty. The rural landscapes and gothic architecture frame the narrative with a sense of isolation and timelessness, allowing audiences to feel as if they, too, are trapped within the same ancient, oppressive traditions as the de Montfaucon family.

The film’s pace may feel unusual, but its deliberate nature only deepens its eerie pull. Eye of the Devil is not a straightforward thriller; it’s a study in atmospheric horror that never rushes to reveal its secrets, instead drawing viewers deeper into its seductive darkness. For anyone who appreciates horror that unnerves through performance, tone, and imagery rather than jump scares, Eye of the Devil is a timeless gem of the genre.

  • Saul Muerte

Don’t Move: A Thriller That Falters Despite a Strong Lead

06 Wednesday Nov 2024

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Don’t Move sets up a chilling scenario that would send shivers through even the steeliest viewer: grieving mother Iris (Kelsey Asbille) must fight for her life after a chance encounter with a ruthless serial killer who injects her with a paralytic agent. Directed by Adam Schindler and Brian Netto, the film attempts to merge high-stakes thrills with psychological horror, but it ultimately struggles to fully capitalise on its premise. Despite a well-rounded cast and bursts of tension, Don’t Move lacks the depth and danger that could have made it unforgettable.

The narrative begins with a promising setup as Iris, still reeling from personal tragedy, stumbles upon the killer. The film efficiently establishes a sense of urgency as she’s injected with the paralytic agent, setting a timer on her desperate attempt to escape before the drug takes hold. As she runs, hides, and fights to stay ahead of her assailant, the ticking clock injects some genuine suspense, and there are moments when Asbille’s performance as Iris—determined, terrified, and defiant—brings the urgency and fear to life.

Kelsey Asbille’s portrayal of Iris is commendable, as she navigates a spectrum of emotions from grief to desperation, giving a grounding force to a story that relies heavily on her character’s will to survive. Asbille’s performance feels layered and sincere, embodying a raw vulnerability that adds authenticity to the harrowing experience. Finn Wittrock, playing the serial killer, delivers a solid but somewhat predictable performance. Known for his versatility, Wittrock unfortunately leans into familiar territory here, lacking the nuance that could have elevated his character beyond the typical, single-minded predator. While he’s chilling in moments, Wittrock’s portrayal feels more like a trope than a fully realised antagonist, limiting the sense of menace he brings to the screen.

The film’s pacing is uneven, with moments of taut suspense broken up by lulls that feel oddly disconnected from the central tension. There are glimpses of innovation in the choreography of Iris’s attempts to elude her pursuer, yet the film rarely goes beyond surface-level thrills. While the script provides some gripping sequences, it often feels like Don’t Move is holding back, unwilling to push Iris’s ordeal into truly harrowing or unpredictable territory.

Much of Don’t Move‘s atmosphere hinges on its premise, but without a deeper exploration of Iris’s emotional or psychological state, the horror feels somewhat hollow. The directors capture a few standout moments of visual tension, but the film struggles to balance its action sequences with meaningful character development. Unlike films that masterfully blur the line between a physical and psychological threat, Don’t Move leans too heavily on formulaic horror conventions, never fully tapping into the deeper fears it flirts with.

The Prognosis:

Don’t Move offers an engaging thriller that falls short of its potential. Despite flashes of intensity and solid performances, it lacks the originality and edge to make it a lasting addition to the horror genre. For fans of survival thrillers, it may offer some fleeting thrills, but for those seeking a truly immersive experience, Don’t Move may feel disappointingly restrained.

  • Saul Muerte

Don’t Move is currently streaming on Netflix.

Piper: A Chilling Premise, but a Hollow Tune

06 Wednesday Nov 2024

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The Piper brings Elizabeth Hurley back to the screen in a horror-thriller inspired by the chilling folklore of the Pied Piper. Directed by Anthony Waller (An American Werewolf in Paris), the film follows Liz (Hurley) and her daughter Amy (Mia Jenkins) as they attempt to start fresh in a small town in Germany. But as they settle in, an ominous force begins to stir—one that seems directly connected to Liz’s hidden past. The Piper, an ancient and vengeful entity, targets those who have wronged others, taking the children of those who bear guilty secrets. With Amy’s life in danger, Liz must confront both her past and the supernatural presence haunting her.

The film’s premise, rooted in the legendary Pied Piper tale, holds immense potential for a dark, psychological exploration of guilt and consequence. This is, after all, a story that has haunted generations with its chilling reminder of the cost of broken promises. Yet The Piper barely scratches the surface of the folklore’s psychological depth, opting instead for a more traditional supernatural thriller approach. Despite Hurley’s commendable performance, the film lacks the ambition to make full use of its unsettling premise, leaning on predictable scares and tired horror tropes rather than delving into the disturbing implications of the story.

Elizabeth Hurley brings a strong presence to the role of Liz, infusing her character with a mother’s desperation and guilt as she fights to protect her daughter. However, the script leaves her limited opportunities to elevate Liz into a more complex character. Mia Jenkins as Amy also shines in moments, adding a believable vulnerability to the role, though the character dynamics feel somewhat shallow. While the performances provide the film with glimmers of emotional depth, they can’t fully compensate for the lack of a compelling narrative arc or the film’s underwhelming exploration of its themes.

Where other films have managed to take inspiration from the Pied Piper and shape it into something uniquely sinister, The Piper seems hesitant to truly commit to its darker edges. Atom Egoyan’s The Sweet Hereafter comes to mind as a film that used this legend to explore community tragedy and moral ambiguity, grounding its horror in real human suffering. In contrast, The Piper remains content to skim the surface, favoring formulaic supernatural scares over any meaningful exploration of redemption or the consequences of guilt. This lack of thematic depth ultimately weakens the film, leaving it feeling more like a missed opportunity than a fresh take on folklore horror.

Visually, The Piper offers some well-composed shots that attempt to capture the haunting atmosphere of its German setting. Waller’s direction, while competent, seems restrained here, missing the stylistic ambition that might have heightened the film’s tension. Known for his work on An American Werewolf in Paris, Waller has a knack for creating eerie atmospheres, yet The Piper doesn’t quite capture that sense of dread on the same level, and the setting feels underutilized as a backdrop for horror.

Ultimately, The Piper doesn’t manage to live up to the potential of its inspiration, feeling more like a generic supernatural thriller than a fresh horror tale. Hurley’s return to the screen, bolstered by a solid supporting cast including Tara Fitzgerald and Robert Daws, is enjoyable, but it’s not enough to make this a standout. For fans of the Pied Piper legend hoping for a film that taps into the unsettling aspects of the myth, The Piper may feel like a missed chance, delivering a predictable story without the depth or innovation that could have made it memorable.

The Prognosis:

The Piper leaves viewers with a familiar yet unremarkable tale of vengeance from beyond, one that struggles to evoke the eerie, cautionary spirit of its source material. For those looking for a fresh twist on classic folklore, this film falls short, leaving the true horror of the Pied Piper myth waiting for a more ambitious interpretation.

  • Saul Muerte

Piper is available for Home Entertainment from 6th November.

Persona (1966): Bergman’s Masterpiece of Identity, Insanity, and Empowerment

02 Saturday Nov 2024

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Ingmar Bergman’s Persona stands as one of the most hauntingly enigmatic films of the 1960s—a cinematic labyrinth that delves into the very depths of identity, sanity, and the blurred boundaries between individuals. Nearly six decades later, Persona remains powerful, confounding, and profoundly unsettling. At its core, Persona is a psychological examination of two women—Elisabet Vogler (Liv Ullmann), an actress who falls mysteriously silent, and her nurse, Alma (Bibi Andersson)—whose relationship unfolds in a crescendo of intimacy, rivalry, and dependence. Together, they embody a deeply human duality, a study in the fragility of personal identity and the paradoxical strength found within vulnerability and silence.

From its opening frames, Persona plunges the audience into a torrent of fragmented imagery—eyes blinking, a hand being nailed, and flashes of existential dread. Bergman’s powerful imagery cuts through the narrative like lightning, creating an atmosphere that feels both personal and universal, nightmarish and poetic. Each frame is meticulously crafted to peel back layers of the psyche, inviting audiences to explore the dark, uncharted spaces of consciousness. Cinematographer Sven Nykvist’s stark black-and-white visuals illuminate every flicker of emotion, every hesitation, every unspoken fear, turning the film’s silence into an unnerving scream.

The film’s exploration of duality is revolutionary, merging psychological horror with existential inquiry as Alma’s identity slowly begins to blur with Elisabet’s. Elisabet’s silence becomes a vacuum that Alma fills with her own confessions and vulnerabilities, pouring her soul into the emptiness that her patient refuses to acknowledge. Through their interactions, Bergman crafts a uniquely female experience of empowerment and collapse, showing strength not as an opposing force to vulnerability, but as something that paradoxically emerges from it. Elisabet’s refusal to speak serves as a quiet act of rebellion, a gesture of power, and a declaration of self that is both empowering and isolating.

Bergman uses this silence to unmask both women, pushing them—and the audience—into confronting painful truths about their identities. Alma’s increasing desperation to be seen and understood by Elisabet serves as both a mirror and a betrayal, revealing her deepest insecurities and, ultimately, her own hidden capacity for cruelty. The duality of their personas reveals the terrifying notion that selfhood is both separate and intertwined with others; we are who we are alone, but also who we are in the eyes of others. Bergman brings the film to a shattering apex when Alma, seemingly empowered, seeks to shake Elisabet out of her silence, but instead finds herself teetering on the edge of her own sanity.

Persona touches on insanity not as a medical phenomenon but as a profound loss of self, a disintegration of the carefully crafted masks we wear. By the film’s conclusion, Alma and Elisabet’s identities are so entangled that the distinction between them dissolves entirely, echoing the film’s central question: can anyone ever truly know another person, or even themselves? This fusion—and confusion—of selfhood is where Persona finds its chilling power, making us question how much of who we are depends on others, and how much can ever truly belong to us alone.

For all its psychological weight, Persona remains a cinematic experience of unparalleled beauty and precision. Bergman, at his most unrestrained, took enormous risks with this film, pushing the boundaries of narrative structure and challenging audiences to reckon with uncomfortable truths. The result is a visceral study of femininity, insanity, and selfhood that has remained deeply influential, inspiring generations of filmmakers to explore the fractures within human identity.

The Prognosis:

Persona is not just a film but a living question, an exploration of the human condition in all its fractured, dualistic beauty. It holds a mirror up to our own shifting faces, daring us to look at the unvarnished truth within. Decades later, Persona endures as one of cinema’s boldest expressions of identity and power.

  • Saul Muerte