The Bell Keeper (2025) – A Hollow Ring to its Terror

01 Tuesday Apr 2025

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Urban legends and supernatural slashers have long been a staple of horror, but The Bell Keeper, directed by Colton Tran, struggles to summon anything beyond the familiar. With a premise that hints at The Evil Dead meets Final Destination, the film follows a group of friends venturing to a secluded campsite to film a documentary about a haunted bell. The legend? Ring it at midnight, and you’ll awaken a vengeful killer. What follows is a mix of ghostly folklore, possession horror, and slasher tropes, but the result never quite coalesces into a satisfying whole.

The film boasts an interesting cast, including UFC Hall of Famer Randy Couture and horror mainstay Bonnie Aarons, best known as the sinister nun from The Conjuring series. However, despite their genre credibility, their presence does little to elevate the script, which leans too heavily on exposition and underdeveloped character dynamics. The group’s descent into paranoia and infighting—key to the film’s horror—feels more obligatory than organic, leaving little emotional investment in their fates.

Visually, The Bell Keeper has moments of eerie atmosphere, with shadowed forests and flickering lanterns providing the requisite setting for a campfire horror tale. Unfortunately, the tension fizzles under the weight of generic jump scares and predictable plot beats. The titular Keeper, a hulking menace overseeing the cursed land, should have been an imposing figure, but the execution feels lacklustre.

There’s an attempt to blend supernatural horror with slasher brutality, but the film never leans far enough into either to make a lasting impression. The involvement of Final Destination creator Jeffrey Reddick as an executive producer suggests a promise of creative kills or unique horror set pieces, but these never materialise in any memorable way.

The Prognosis:

At its best, The Bell Keeper is a late-night curiosity for undemanding horror fans who enjoy the ritual of watching a group of victims fall prey to an ancient curse. At its worst, it’s a forgettable effort that rings hollow.

  • Saul Muerte

“Legend of the Werewolf” (1975) – A Gothic Horror with Visual Flair but Uneven Bite

30 Sunday Mar 2025

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Freddie Francis’ Legend of the Werewolf (1975) is an atmospheric entry in the world of lycanthropic horror, offering a blend of Gothic visual style and the usual blood-soaked thrills of a werewolf tale. Set in 19th century France, it introduces us to a feral boy who, raised in a travelling circus, undergoes a chilling transformation as he grows into adulthood. His fate is sealed when a grisly murder sets off a chain of events, leading to a bloodthirsty rampage that culminates in a vicious pursuit across Paris.

The film opens with a certain rawness, beginning with a young, mute boy found in the woods by a circus troupe. This “wolf boy,” as they call him, is put on display, his feral nature captivating the audience while unsettling anyone who sees him. As he grows older, the boy, played by the imposing David Rintoul, slowly becomes a creature of terror, tormented by his animal instincts. This descent into savagery is fascinating to watch, especially under Francis’ directorial eye, known for his command over visual horror. The atmosphere is rich, and the sets create a lovely period feel, heightened by the interplay of shadow and light that Francis has become renowned for.

What elevates the film for me—despite its shortcomings—is the presence of Peter Cushing. Cushing, as always, brings gravitas to the role of the determined police surgeon, a man who becomes the obsessive pursuer of the wolfman. Even when the story meanders or becomes predictable, Cushing’s charisma and commitment to the role inject it with life, as only he can. His role isn’t expansive, but his screen time is always a treat, especially in a genre film like this one, where his presence provides a certain sense of respectability and class.

That said, Legend of the Werewolf does have its issues. The pacing feels uneven, and while the visual elements are appealing, the narrative stumbles in parts. The transformation scenes, while not without their intrigue, lack the oomph that might have made this a standout entry in the werewolf genre. The character development is relatively shallow, and the final act, while tense, feels like it lacks the emotional resonance of some other lycanthrope stories. The script offers little depth, focusing more on the physical horror rather than the psychological torment of its characters, something that could have given the film more weight.

The romance element between the werewolf and a prostitute, which forms a significant part of the film, feels underdeveloped, making the tension between love, obsession, and violence seem somewhat contrived. This weakens the central narrative, as the werewolf’s descent into madness could have been more nuanced.

That said, there is still enjoyment to be found in Legend of the Werewolf, particularly for those who appreciate period horror and are fond of Francis’ visual flair. It’s a decent 70s horror outing that ultimately serves as a solid but not spectacular entry into the genre.

A Brief About Tyburn Films Productions Ltd.

Tyburn Films Productions Ltd. was a British film production company that specialised in low-budget horror films during the 1970s, often dealing with themes of the supernatural, the macabre, and the grotesque. While the company didn’t boast a vast library of films, the few it did produce left a significant impact on the genre, particularly in the UK.

Tyburn was founded by Michael Klinger, who had a vision of reviving classic horror with a more contemporary twist. The films produced by Tyburn were often heavily reliant on atmosphere and shock value, something that perfectly fit into the popular tastes of the 1970s, which was a golden era for horror cinema. Legend of the Werewolf is an example of Tyburn’s signature style—more mood-driven than plot-driven, with its focus on visuals and atmosphere. Tyburn’s other notable films include The Ghoul (1975) and The House That Vanished (1973), which, like Legend of the Werewolf, combined old-fashioned Gothic horror tropes with modern sensibilities. Tyburn Films was not in the business of subtlety, often leaning into lurid exploitation and grotesque imagery to make their mark.

While the company didn’t last long, and its filmography remains niche in the broader world of horror, Tyburn’s contributions to the genre continue to be appreciated by fans of vintage, atmospheric horror films.

  • Saul Muerte

The Stuff (1985) – A Gooey, Grotesque Satire That Melts Under Its Own Weight

30 Sunday Mar 2025

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Larry Cohen’s The Stuff is a cult curiosity that blends body horror, B-movie absurdity, and sharp social satire into one messy, unpredictable package. The film follows David Rutherford (Michael Moriarty), an ex-FBI agent hired to investigate a mysterious new dessert craze that’s sweeping the nation. The Stuff isn’t just delicious—it’s alive, and once it takes hold of its consumers, it turns them into hollowed-out, mind-controlled husks.

On a purely visual level, The Stuff is a delightfully grotesque spectacle. The practical effects—oozing, stretching, and slithering white goo—are gloriously over-the-top, calling to mind The Blob (1958) but with an extra dose of ‘80s excess. The standout body horror moments, such as the stomach-churning sight of The Stuff bursting from its victims or taking over their bodies from within, are a testament to Cohen’s ability to deliver memorable, lo-fi carnage on a budget.

Beyond the slime and splatter, The Stuff functions as a scathing satire of consumer culture. Cohen takes aim at corporate greed, mindless marketing, and the dangers of mass-produced food products, turning a silly horror premise into a sharp critique of America’s addiction to processed goods. The film’s fictional advertising campaigns, featuring smiling families mindlessly shoveling The Stuff into their mouths, feel unsettlingly close to real-life junk food commercials. It’s an obvious but effective jab at a society that consumes without question.

However, despite its ambitious themes and inventive effects, The Stuff struggles with its execution. The pacing is uneven, the tonal shifts are jarring, and while Michael Moriarty delivers an enjoyably offbeat performance, the rest of the cast wavers between deadpan and overly cartoonish. The film’s satire is biting but often undermined by its own absurdity, making it feel more like a collection of great ideas rather than a fully cohesive horror-comedy.

As for Larry Cohen, The Stuff is a prime example of his signature approach to horror—blending pulpy thrills with pointed social commentary. Throughout his career, Cohen carved out a unique space in the genre, crafting inventive, low-budget horror films that often had something meaningful to say. From It’s Alive (1974), a nightmarish take on parenthood, to Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), his offbeat creature feature set in New York City, Cohen consistently delivered high-concept horror with a satirical bite. His work may not have had the polish of mainstream horror directors, but his DIY spirit and subversive storytelling made him a cult icon.

As a piece of schlocky, effects-driven body horror, The Stuff is a fun ride. As a social commentary, it’s admirably bold but ultimately a little too messy. It’s not Cohen’s best work, but it remains a fascinating, if flawed, slice of ‘80s horror satire that still oozes with cult appeal.

  • Saul Muerte

Twisted Nerve (1968) – A Mixed Bag of Psychological Thrills and Problematic Science

29 Saturday Mar 2025

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Roy Boulting’s Twisted Nerve is an unsettling psychological thriller that leans heavily on a sensationalised – and deeply flawed – portrayal of mental illness. The film follows Martin Durnley (Hywel Bennett), a troubled young man who assumes a childlike alter ego, “Georgie,” as a coping mechanism. After a failed shoplifting attempt, he latches onto a kind-hearted student, Susan Harper (Hayley Mills), spiraling into obsession with deadly consequences.

Despite its eerie atmosphere and chilling central performance by Bennett, the film is tainted by its pseudo-scientific premise. The idea that a hereditary “twisted nerve” could predestine mental instability, particularly through a link to Down’s syndrome, is not only outdated but also ethically dubious. The film’s opening narration posits this as a scientific truth, using it as a MacGuffin to justify Martin’s homicidal tendencies, a choice that has understandably drawn criticism over the years.

Director Roy Boulting, best known for his satirical British comedies, takes an unexpected turn into thriller territory here, crafting moments of genuine suspense. His direction ensures a polished visual style, aided by Bernard Herrmann’s menacing score—perhaps the film’s strongest asset. However, Boulting’s handling of the subject matter is clumsy, leaning into shock value rather than genuine psychological depth.

Hywel Bennett delivers a convincingly unnerving performance, switching between the vacant innocence of Georgie and the calculating menace of Martin. Hayley Mills, fresh from her Disney stardom, takes on a more mature role as Susan, though the script limits her agency, reducing her to the archetypal oblivious victim. Billie Whitelaw and Frank Finlay add solid support, but ultimately, the film struggles to balance its thriller elements with its problematic premise.

While Twisted Nerve succeeds in unsettling its audience, it leaves a sour taste with its outdated and irresponsible approach to mental illness. As a psychological thriller, it has its moments, but its reliance on dubious genetics as a horror device ultimately weakens its impact.

  • Saul Muerte

The Rule of Jenny Pen (2025) – A Chilling Game of Fear and Manipulation

23 Sunday Mar 2025

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Shudder continues its streak of unsettling original films with The Rule of Jenny Pen, a psychological horror-thriller that sinks its claws into the vulnerability of aging and the horrors lurking in the quiet corners of a retirement home. Anchored by powerhouse performances from Geoffrey Rush and John Lithgow, this eerie and claustrophobic tale crafts an atmosphere thick with dread, proving that terror knows no age.

The film follows Judge Stefan Mortensen (Rush), a once-powerful legal mind now reduced to a shadow of himself after suffering a debilitating stroke. Sent to a secluded rest home to recover, Mortensen soon finds himself at odds with Dave Crealy (Lithgow), a seemingly affable resident whose innocent facade masks a twisted, controlling presence. Crealy rules the facility through an insidious game known as “The Rule of Jenny Pen,” using a disturbing dementia doll as both his mouthpiece and his weapon. As Mortensen fights to expose the horrors unfolding around him, he realises that no one believes him—leaving him to take matters into his own frail but determined hands.

What makes The Rule of Jenny Pen so compelling is its setting—an elderly care facility rarely seen in horror, yet rife with an inherent sense of powerlessness. The film leans into that, drawing horror not just from Crealy’s psychological torment but from the indifference of the staff, the isolation of its residents, and the fear of losing one’s agency. Director James Ashcroft (Coming Home in the Dark) masterfully builds tension, blending psychological horror with moments of outright terror as Crealy’s grip over the home tightens.

Rush and Lithgow are mesmerising, delivering two of the most sinister performances in recent memory. Lithgow, in particular, is chilling—his portrayal of Crealy is equal parts charming and horrifying, a villain who wields his dementia doll like a twisted totem of authority. Meanwhile, Rush imbues Mortensen with a tragic, desperate resilience, making his struggle against Crealy both gripping and deeply affecting.

While The Rule of Jenny Pen does veer into some familiar horror tropes in its final act, it remains a uniquely unsettling experience. With its fresh setting, masterful performances, and an unnerving psychological edge, reminding us that the most dangerous monsters aren’t always supernatural, and that horror can fester in the most unexpected places.

  • Saul Muerte

The Rule of Jenny Pen will start streaming on Shudder from Fri 28th March

Friday the 13th: A New Beginning (1985) – A Franchise Detour That Misses More Than It Hits

22 Saturday Mar 2025

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By the time Friday the 13th: A New Beginning slashed its way into theaters in 1985, the franchise was already a well-oiled machine, churning out a sequel nearly every year. However, this fifth entry remains one of the most divisive, largely due to its decision to shift away from the traditional Jason Voorhees formula and experiment with a psychological approach. While that sounds intriguing on paper, the execution leaves much to be desired, resulting in a film that struggles to balance its slasher roots with a misguided attempt at reinvention.

The story picks up after the events of The Final Chapter (1984), with a now-older Tommy Jarvis (John Shepherd) struggling with the trauma of his past. Sent to a halfway house for troubled teens, Tommy finds himself in a new nightmare when a series of gruesome murders begins, mimicking Jason’s trademark brutality. The film tries to play with audience expectations, teasing whether Tommy himself has snapped under the weight of his past, but the final reveal—spoiler alert—of a Jason copycat killer feels more like a cheap gimmick than a clever twist.

Despite its narrative shortcomings, A New Beginning does have its moments. The kill sequences are still delightfully over-the-top, featuring everything from a brutal machete dismemberment to a flare to the mouth. The film also leans into the sleazy side of ’80s slashers, packing in gratuitous nudity, drug use, and bizarre comedic beats that make for an occasionally entertaining watch. Unfortunately, these moments are often undercut by a cast of thinly drawn, one-note characters who exist solely to be picked off, making it difficult to care about their inevitable fates.

While A New Beginning deserves some credit for attempting to steer the franchise in a fresh direction, it ultimately feels like a misfire. The absence of the real Jason leaves a void that the film can’t quite fill, and its attempt at psychological horror never fully lands. That said, it’s not without its trashy charm, and for fans of the series, it offers enough blood-soaked carnage to be worth revisiting—just don’t expect a Friday the 13th classic.

  • Saul Muerte

Curse of the Crimson Altar (1968) – A Star-Studded but Stumbling Occult

21 Friday Mar 2025

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By the late 1960s, British horror was riding the wave of gothic indulgence, and Curse of the Crimson Altar (also known as The Crimson Cult) fit right into that mold—on paper, at least. Featuring an enviable cast of horror icons, including Boris Karloff, Christopher Lee, and Barbara Steele, the film promises an eerie descent into black magic, secret rituals, and sinister family secrets. However, despite its intriguing setup and legendary names, Vernon Sewell’s film struggles to leave a lasting impression, failing to weave its disparate elements into something truly chilling.

The story follows Robert Manning (Mark Eden), who arrives at a countryside estate in search of his missing brother. Greeted warmly by his host Morley (Christopher Lee) and drawn in by his flirtatious niece Eve (Virginia Wetherell), Manning soon realises that something sinister lurks beneath the surface. At the heart of the mystery is Lavinia Morley (Barbara Steele), the legendary Black Witch of Greymarsh, whose influence still seems to haunt the house. Boris Karloff, in one of his final roles, plays Professor Marsh, adding a layer of authority to the film’s occult themes.

While the premise suggests a brooding supernatural thriller, Curse of the Crimson Altar never quite capitalises on its potential. The film’s pacing is uneven, bogged down by awkward tonal shifts and a reliance on hallucinatory dream sequences that, while visually interesting, fail to generate true suspense. The script meanders between traditional gothic horror and psychedelic surrealism, yet never fully commits to either. Some moments feel inspired—particularly the ritualistic scenes featuring Steele’s striking presence—but the film lacks a cohesive narrative drive.

That’s not to say there aren’t pleasures to be found. Karloff, despite his declining health, delivers a dignified performance, and Lee once again exudes effortless menace, even if his role is underwritten. The gothic atmosphere is well-crafted, and the concept of a lingering ancestral curse is one with rich potential. Unfortunately, the execution is middling, leaving Curse of the Crimson Altar feeling like a missed opportunity. As a late-era gothic horror, it’s worth a watch for genre completists, but it ultimately fails to cast a truly lasting spell.

  • Saul Muerte

Bloody Axe Wound (2025) – A Slasher with Sharp Ideas but a Blunt Edge

17 Monday Mar 2025

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Shudder’s latest exclusive, Bloody Axe Wound, comes swinging with a promising concept—mixing slasher horror with media satire—but ultimately stumbles in execution. Set in the quiet yet bloodstained town of Clover Falls, the film follows Abbie Bladecut (Sari Arambulo), a teenager struggling with the weight of her family’s gruesome legacy. Her father, Roger Bladecut (Billy Burke), has turned murder into a business, capturing real-life killings and distributing them to eager viewers. But as Abbie begins questioning the family trade, she’s forced to decide whether to embrace the cycle of carnage or carve out her own path.

At its best, Bloody Axe Wound delivers a wickedly fun premise, bolstered by strong performances. Arambulo shines as Abbie, balancing vulnerability and determination, while Molly Brown (Dexter: Original Sin) brings a sharp edge as her friend Sam Crane. Billy Burke’s Roger exudes a sleazy charisma, making his character’s justifications for his twisted business both unsettling and eerily believable. There’s also a noteworthy cameo from Jeffrey Dean Morgan, whose presence adds some weight to the film, even if his role is fleeting.

However, despite its engaging setup, the film begins to veer off course as it struggles to sustain its own momentum. The biggest issue lies in its execution of the central premise—who exactly is filming these supposed “real” murder videos? The film flirts with the idea of voyeuristic horror and true crime obsession but never fully commits to exploring the logistics of its own mythology. Instead, it throws in a few late-game twists that feel more like distractions than revelations.

Director Matthew John Lawrence (Uncle Peckerhead) crafts some effectively gory set pieces, but the film’s tone wavers between biting satire and straight-up slasher mayhem, never fully committing to either. 

The Prognosis:

When it works, Bloody Axe Wound is an enjoyably grim ride with moments of inspired horror. When it falters, it leaves you questioning the gaps in its own logic. Still, there’s enough blood-soaked fun to make it worth a watch—just don’t expect it to leave a lasting mark.

  • Saul Muerte

Dominion: Prequel to The Exorcist (2005) – A Possessed Production Gone Wrong

17 Monday Mar 2025

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There’s something inherently cursed about Dominion: Prequel to The Exorcist, and not in the way it intends. As the first attempt at an origin story for Father Merrin’s battle with Pazuzu, Paul Schrader’s take on the material is a sluggish and misguided affair that never finds its footing. It exists in a strange limbo—not as outright ridiculous as Renny Harlin’s Exorcist: The Beginning (the studio-mandated reshoot that replaced it) but just as devoid of true terror. The film fumbles in nearly every aspect, weighed down by a plodding script and woefully outdated CGI that undermines any atmosphere it tries to build.

Stellan Skarsgård does his best to elevate the material, but even his presence as a younger Father Merrin isn’t enough to salvage a film that constantly fights against itself. Schrader leans into psychological horror over cheap thrills, which in theory should work—but the execution is flat and lifeless. Key moments that should be disturbing are instead unintentionally laughable, thanks in no small part to the distractingly bad effects work. The demonically contorted bodies and spectral visions come across as half-baked, robbing the film of any lasting impact.

One of the film’s biggest sins is how it fails to generate any real tension. Despite Schrader’s more introspective approach, the pacing is painfully sluggish, and the horror elements feel like an afterthought. There are glimmers of intriguing ideas—the exploration of faith and guilt, Merrin’s past trauma, and the horrors of war—but they’re buried under lifeless dialogue and stiff performances from much of the supporting cast. The possessed Cheche (Billy Crawford) should have been the film’s terrifying centerpiece, but instead, he’s saddled with effects so poor they make The Scorpion King look like cutting-edge CGI.

The Exorcist franchise has always struggled with its sequels, but Dominion proves that sometimes, an origin story just isn’t necessary. It lacks the primal terror of the original and even the bizarre charm of some later entries, leaving it as a dull and frustrating misfire. While it’s marginally better than Harlin’s chaotic take, that’s hardly a glowing endorsement. In the end, Dominion is a film that never should have been resurrected.

  • Saul Muerte

The Case of the Murder of Tariel Mklavadze (1925) – A Forgotten Soviet Horror Classic Turns 100

16 Sunday Mar 2025

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Silent cinema was no stranger to the macabre in the 1920s, with German Expressionism defining much of early horror. Yet, tucked away in Soviet film history lies The Case of the Murder of Tariel Mklavadze (1925), a largely overlooked but deeply atmospheric silent thriller from Georgia, directed by Ivane Perestiani. As the film reaches its centennial, it deserves recognition not only for its eerie storytelling but also for its place in Soviet and Georgian cinematic history.

At its core, The Case of the Murder of Tariel Mklavadze is a tale of obsession and cruelty, unfolding as a psychological horror rather than a supernatural one. The film follows Spiridon Mtsirishvili (Kote Mikaberidze), a schoolteacher, and his wife Despine (Nato Vachnadze), who find themselves ensnared in the twisted desires of a local nobleman, Tariel Mklavadze (Mikheil Kadagidze). The plot is one of creeping dread rather than outright terror, as Tariel and his cohorts engage in a campaign of intimidation and psychological torment, culminating in a series of harrowing encounters.

Unlike many early horror films that relied on elaborate set design and grotesque makeup, The Case of Tariel Mklavadze thrives on mood and tension. Perestiani crafts an unnerving atmosphere using stark lighting contrasts and a slow-burning narrative, heightening the sense of isolation and vulnerability faced by the young couple. While Soviet cinema of the time was largely concerned with revolutionary themes, this film instead explores the power dynamics of class and gender through its horror framework, making it a unique outlier in the era’s cinematic landscape.

One of the film’s greatest strengths lies in its performances, particularly that of Nato Vachnadze. Though she would go on to become one of Soviet Georgia’s most celebrated actresses, The Case of the Murder of Tariel Mklavadze showcases her early talent in a role that demands both fragility and resilience. As Despine, she is at the centre of the film’s tension, her fate seemingly sealed by the whims of men who see her as a prize rather than a person.

Despite its compelling execution, The Case of the Murder of Tariel Mklavadze remains a footnote in horror history, overshadowed by more famous silent-era works like Nosferatu (1922) and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920). The film’s relative obscurity is partly due to the limited distribution of early Soviet cinema outside the USSR, and it lacks the kind of restoration and revival efforts that have preserved other classics. However, its themes of unchecked power and psychological terror resonate even today, making it a fascinating relic of early horror filmmaking.

One hundred years later, The Case of the Murder of Tariel Mklavadze stands as a testament to the silent era’s ability to unsettle and captivate. With its centenary upon us, it’s a perfect time for film historians and horror aficionados to revisit—or perhaps discover—this lost gem of Georgian cinema.

  • Saul Muerte