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Retrospective: Black Christmas (1974) – The Birth of the Modern Slasher

12 Saturday Oct 2024

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Few films have had as lasting and significant an impact on the horror genre as Bob Clark’s Black Christmas (1974). Often considered one of the earliest and most influential slasher films, this Canadian cult classic set the stage for an entire subgenre, crafting many of the tropes and techniques that would come to define horror for decades. Despite being overshadowed by later films like Halloween and Friday the 13th, Black Christmas deserves recognition for pioneering the slasher formula with a chilling, understated approach that remains terrifying even today.

At first glance, Black Christmas may appear deceptively simple: a group of sorority sisters are terrorized by a mysterious killer during the holiday season. However, beneath this surface lies a film that is far more unsettling and artfully constructed than the plot might suggest. The film centers on a sorority house where a series of disturbing phone calls from an anonymous stalker escalates into a killing spree, leaving the women inside fighting for their lives. What makes Black Christmas stand out, even now, is its unnerving atmosphere, psychological horror, and narrative ambiguity.

Though Black Christmas wasn’t the first horror film to feature a mysterious killer stalking victims, it was among the first to codify many of the key elements of the slasher genre. The killer is hidden, only referred to as “Billy,” and his identity is never revealed. This creates a terrifying sense of anonymity, leaving viewers unsettled and guessing throughout. The film’s signature technique of showing the killer’s point of view through a shaky, handheld camera, often as he lurks inside the sorority house, was a novel approach at the time. This perspective not only put the audience uncomfortably close to the villain but also emphasized the voyeuristic nature of the genre, which would become a hallmark of slasher films.

Furthermore, Black Christmas introduced another crucial element to the slasher formula: the final girl. Jess (played by Olivia Hussey) serves as the prototype for what would become a defining archetype in horror films. She is resourceful, determined, and morally complex, facing down not just the threat of the killer but also grappling with difficult personal decisions, such as her unplanned pregnancy. While Halloween’s Laurie Strode may get most of the credit as the iconic final girl, it was Jess who paved the way.

What truly sets Black Christmas apart is its refusal to rely on cheap jump scares or excessive gore. Bob Clark, who would ironically go on to direct the holiday classic A Christmas Story, leans heavily into psychological horror. The film’s pacing is slow but deliberate, building tension in a way that mirrors the growing paranoia and terror within the sorority house. The mysterious phone calls—featuring unsettling, incoherent babbling and eerie voices—play a significant role in creating a pervasive sense of dread. These moments are perhaps some of the most unnerving in the film, as they tap into the fear of the unknown. We never truly understand who “Billy” is or why he is targeting these women, and this ambiguity is far more terrifying than any clear motive.

There’s also a layer of ambiguity in the way the story ends. The final moments of the film leave the audience in a state of unease, as we realize that the killer may still be lurking inside the house. It’s a haunting conclusion that forgoes the catharsis of resolution, instead opting to leave viewers with lingering questions. This open-endedness not only subverts expectations but also keeps the fear alive long after the credits roll.

Despite Black Christmas’s relatively modest success at the box office, its influence on the genre cannot be overstated. Released four years before Halloween, it laid much of the groundwork that John Carpenter would refine to perfection. The trope of an unstoppable, unseen killer, the use of holiday settings as a backdrop for horror, and the idea of a final girl all originated here. Films like Friday the 13th (1980), A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), and Scream (1996) would later take these concepts and run with them, but Black Christmas remains their precursor.

Moreover, Black Christmas redefined the role of women in horror films. While earlier horror often portrayed female characters as passive victims, this film empowered its female leads with agency and complexity. Jess, in particular, challenges the conventions of morality and survival that would later be expanded upon in the genre. This emphasis on strong female protagonists would become a defining characteristic of slasher films in the years to come.

Nearly 50 years after its release, Black Christmas retains its ability to shock and unsettle. Its stark portrayal of violence, coupled with its minimalistic style, lends it a timeless quality that feels just as disturbing today as it did in 1974. While it may not have the same widespread recognition as some of the films it influenced, its legacy is undeniable. The way it skillfully balances psychological horror, tension, and brutal realism set it apart from its contemporaries and continues to resonate with audiences, reminding us that true terror often lies in what we don’t see.

The Prognosis:

In the annals of horror, Black Christmas stands as a groundbreaking film that helped shape the slasher genre and define its future trajectory. Bob Clark’s minimalist approach, the chilling atmosphere, and the deeply unsettling narrative make it a landmark of horror cinema. For any fan of the genre, Black Christmas is essential viewing, both as a pioneering work and as a timeless masterpiece of fear.

  • Saul Muerte

Hellboy: The Crooked Man Stumbles Through Shadows, But Fails to Find Its Feet

08 Tuesday Oct 2024

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Hellboy: The Crooked Man marks the fourth live-action installment in the Hellboy franchise and, unfortunately, continues the downward trend started by the 2019 Neil Marshall-directed reboot (which, full disclosure, I haven’t seen—so I won’t judge it too harshly). However, what The Crooked Man struggles with most is shaking off the long shadow cast by Guillermo del Toro’s Hellboy films, which, if I’m being honest, I hold a bit of bias for given my love for del Toro’s visionary style.

In The Crooked Man, Hellboy, played by Jack Kesy, teams up with a rookie agent from the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense (BPRD) to face witches and a local demon terrorizing a small 1950s Appalachian community. The setup is atmospheric, dripping with dark and moody rural horror vibes, but the style swings between working well in some moments and feeling like a TV pilot trying to test the waters for more adventures.

While Mike Mignola himself pens the screenplay, keeping the source material’s spirit alive, the execution of that spirit sometimes feels thin. There are certainly eerie moments and a heavy use of gothic imagery, but for all the darkness, the film rarely finds space for genuine scares. The “Crooked Man” villain has some potential, but he never feels quite as menacing as he should be, and the plot doesn’t take the time to build tension or fear effectively.

One thing I will credit the film for is its aesthetic, which evokes a grungy, eerie folklore atmosphere fitting for the Appalachia setting. Yet even here, the film can’t quite find its balance, often coming across as more stylistic than substantive. At times, it feels like a collection of eerie vignettes rather than a cohesive, immersive narrative.

The Prognosis:

Hellboy: The Crooked Man is not without some merit—there are moments where the moody visuals start to work, and the film grows on you as you settle into its world. But it struggles to rise above the feeling of being just another attempt at relaunching Hellboy into mainstream success, and unfortunately, it doesn’t hit the mark. It ends up feeling more like a trial run for something bigger that never quite takes off.

Fans of the comics might appreciate the nods to Mignola’s work but compared to the grand scope of del Toro’s vision for the character, The Crooked Man leaves much to be desired. It’s dark, yes, but not quite deep enough to make a lasting impression.

  • Saul Muerte

HELLBOY: THE CROOKED MAN will release in cinemas nationally on October 10 through Rialto Distribution.

It’s What’s Inside (2024) – A Twisted Tale of Identity and Revenge

06 Sunday Oct 2024

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It’s What’s Inside delivers a twisted, high-concept psychological thriller, exploring the dark side of identity, body swapping, and the lengths people will go to when driven by revenge, jealousy, and ambition. Directed by Greg Jardin, the film’s central premise—the manipulation of bodies and identities through a cutting-edge device—presents a disturbing reflection on the cost of transformation, both physical and moral.

The story revolves around a group of friends who reunite at Reuben’s (Devon Terrell) house for a pre-wedding party. Amid the celebration, their estranged friend Forbes (David W. Thompson) reappears, carrying a strange device that allows its users to swap bodies with one another. What begins as a game quickly spirals into chaos as lies are exposed, hidden desires come to light, and deep-seated grudges from their college days erupt with deadly consequences.

The film’s greatest strength lies in its unsettling portrayal of how changing one’s body—whether for vanity, power, or escape—can expose the true, often corrupt, personalities that lie within. As the group engages in their body-swapping game, it becomes clear that their outward transformations only serve to amplify their internal flaws. Forbes’s invention doesn’t just allow the characters to slip into new skins; it brings out the darkness they’ve hidden beneath the surface. As identities blur and alliances crumble, each character is forced to confront the parts of themselves they’ve tried to repress, revealing a disturbing lack of empathy and moral decay.

One of the most compelling elements of It’s What’s Inside is its critique of a generation that has lost sight of its purpose. The characters—consumed by a need for success, revenge, and personal gain—are driven by their ambitions with little concern for the consequences. Shelby (Brittany O’Grady), who eagerly embraces her newfound appearance after swapping into Nikki’s (Alycia Debnam-Carey) body, exemplifies this obsession with image and social media status. Meanwhile, Cyrus’s (James Morosini) jealousy and insecurity bubble over as he navigates the body-swapping game, becoming a key player in the film’s explosive climax. The group, so intent on achieving what they believe to be success, revenge, or escape, fail to realize the dangers of playing with their identities until it’s too late.

As the narrative escalates, we see the tragic consequences of their actions—deaths, betrayal, and a complete breakdown of trust including a shocking demise during the second round of body swapping sets the stage for the film’s darker turn, as Forbes, Shelby, and the others begin to unravel, trapped in a vicious cycle of lies and deception. The notion of swapping bodies as a game becomes a perverse metaphor for youth’s reckless pursuit of validation, where nothing—including one’s own identity—is sacred or permanent.

The ending leaves a lasting impression, and a final twist of revenge, leaving the audience and its players in a world where no one’s identity is fixed and everyone is willing to sacrifice their true selves for personal gain, It’s What’s Inside raises unsettling questions about the lengths people will go to control their own narratives. Even after the dust settles, the repercussions of the group’s actions hang over them, leaving the audience with an eerie sense of inevitability.

The Prognosis:

It’s What’s Inside offers a disturbing exploration of identity, revenge, and the corrupting influence of ambition. While the plot occasionally stumbles under the weight of its complex narrative, the film still manages to deliver a chilling commentary on the cost of changing one’s body, and by extension, oneself. As youth grapples with the allure of success and validation, the film serves as a cautionary tale of how easily one can lose sight of who they truly are. With its unsettling atmosphere and darkly intriguing concept, It’s What’s Inside lingers in the mind, reminding us that the greatest horrors come from within.

  • Saul Muerte

It’s What’s Inside is currently streaming on Netflix.

Hold Your Breath (2024) – A Missed Opportunity Wrapped in Dust

05 Saturday Oct 2024

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Hold Your Breath, the latest psychological horror-thriller from directors Karrie Crouse and Will Joines, had all the ingredients to be a standout film. Set against the haunting backdrop of the 1930s Dust Bowl, with a compelling premise and Sarah Paulson leading the charge, the film seemed poised to deliver a chilling exploration of fear and paranoia. Unfortunately, despite Paulson’s strong performance and the intriguing concept of an antagonist hidden within the dust, Hold Your Breath falls flat, weighed down by slow pacing, underdeveloped tension, and a lackluster narrative.

The story centers on Mabel (Paulson), a young mother living in rural Oklahoma, whose life is unraveling as the unforgiving dust storms ravage the land and her mind. Paulson brings depth and intensity to her role, portraying Mabel’s descent into paranoia and fear with her trademark skill. Her performance is by far the highlight of the film, effectively conveying the crushing burden of motherhood in a world that feels as hostile as it is desolate. As Mabel becomes convinced that a malevolent presence is lurking in the dust storms, Paulson’s portrayal of her psychological breakdown feels visceral and authentic, grounding the film in moments that would otherwise be lost in the haze.

The premise itself is promising—an unknown threat hiding in the dust, a force of nature that becomes a villain in its own right. There’s something deeply unnerving about the idea that something as natural as the wind could be hiding something sinister. However, Hold Your Breath struggles to capitalise on this. Instead of using the dust storms to build a creeping sense of dread, the film meanders, failing to fully deliver on its supernatural promise or lean into the psychological horror it teases.

The pacing is one of the film’s biggest issues. While the slow-burn approach can work wonders in building tension, Hold Your Breath takes it too far, with long stretches where little happens beyond Mabel’s growing unease. For all the atmospheric dust and the potential of an unseen threat lurking within it, the tension never truly escalates. The film teeters on the edge of suspense but never tips over into genuine horror or even psychological thrills. By the time it reaches its conclusion, the payoff feels underwhelming, leaving the audience more frustrated than fearful.

The dust, intended as a central figure in the narrative, is visually striking but ultimately underutilised. It swirls ominously throughout the film, but the menace it promises never quite materialises. The dust could have been a powerful metaphor for Mabel’s disintegrating mind, her inability to see clearly or escape her situation, but instead, it becomes just a backdrop—an aesthetic choice rather than a narrative driver. There’s a missed opportunity in not making the dust storms more integral to the psychological unraveling or the supernatural terror.

Even with a strong supporting cast, including Amiah Miller and Ebon Moss-Bachrach, the characters surrounding Mabel feel flat. Their roles seem more like props to Mabel’s story rather than fully fleshed-out individuals, which detracts from the emotional weight of her breakdown. The interactions between Mabel and her family lack the depth needed to make her increasing isolation and fear resonate on a deeper level.

The Prognosis:

Hold Your Breath boasts a cracking premise and a standout performance from Sarah Paulson, who anchors the film with emotional depth and conviction. The idea of a villain hidden within the dust storms of the 1930s Oklahoma Dust Bowl offers so much potential for both psychological and supernatural horror, but the film’s sluggish pacing and lack of genuine tension leave much to be desired. Despite its atmospheric setting and strong central performance, Hold Your Breath ultimately fails to make a lasting impression, squandering its intriguing concept in a haze of missed opportunities.

  • Saul Muerte

Hold Your Breath is streaming on Disney Plus from Oct 4th.

House of Spoils (2024) – A Haunted Kitchen Serves Up More Than Just Scares

04 Friday Oct 2024

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Blumhouse has long been synonymous with delivering low-budget horror with a sharp edge, but in recent years, their output has felt a bit predictable, leaving some fans yearning for the earlier days of their groundbreaking horror. House of Spoils, however, offers a fresh twist on familiar supernatural elements, blending witchcraft, female empowerment, and the culinary world in a tale that simmers with intrigue, even if it doesn’t fully deliver the knockout punch expected from the studio.

Written and directed by Bridget Savage Cole and Danielle Krudy, House of Spoils stars the ever-charismatic Ariana DeBose as Elena, an ambitious chef trying to launch her first restaurant in a remote estate. What should be a dream come true quickly spirals into a nightmare as Elena battles not only the pressures of running a kitchen and a shady investor (Arian Moayed) but also the spirit of the estate’s previous owner. This vengeful ghost seems hellbent on sabotaging her every move, lurking in the shadows and slowly unraveling Elena’s sanity.

The film plays out in an almost fable-like way, weaving in themes of witchcraft and earth magic, particularly in how Elena connects to the land she’s building her restaurant on. The kitchen, in this context, becomes more than a place of creativity and chaos—it’s a battleground, not just for Elena’s culinary dreams, but for her very soul. As she fends off both supernatural and real-world threats, the movie delves into the struggles of female empowerment in a male-dominated industry. It’s here that House of Spoils finds some of its most interesting material, reflecting on how women are forced to navigate a world of doubt, both external and internal, while being undermined by those around them.

Ariana DeBose shines as the determined chef, capturing Elena’s strength and vulnerability with nuance, though the script sometimes doesn’t give her enough to fully flesh out the character. Barbie Ferreira plays the role of Elena’s skeptical sous-chef, bringing a grounded, sardonic energy to the film, while Arian Moayed as the investor adds a layer of sleazy opportunism that heightens the tension.

Where House of Spoils really excels is in its atmosphere. The remote, crumbling estate is the perfect setting for a horror film, its dilapidated beauty mirroring the decaying hopes of its protagonist. There’s a distinct connection to the earth and natural elements throughout the film, almost as though the land itself is alive—and hostile. The ghostly presence of the previous owner feels intertwined with these elements, adding a layer of witchy folklore that sets the film apart from typical haunted house fare.

The culinary angle also brings a unique flavor to the film (pun intended). The stress and artistry of the kitchen mirror the growing supernatural threat, with moments of tension rising to a boil as Elena tries to hold her life and restaurant together. The culinary scenes are visually engaging and offer a fresh take on the typical horror setup, though at times they can feel somewhat underutilized in terms of narrative depth.

Despite these strong elements, House of Spoils isn’t without its shortcomings. While it explores rich themes of female resilience and empowerment, the pacing occasionally drags, and the scares feel too restrained for a Blumhouse production. The spirit haunting the restaurant never quite reaches its full terrifying potential, leaving the horror feeling a bit more muted than it should. Fans of Blumhouse’s more visceral scares might find the subtlety here frustrating, but those who appreciate a slow-burn, atmospheric approach will find much to enjoy.

At its heart, House of Spoils is a meditation on ambition, doubt, and the costs of chasing your dreams in the face of adversity. Its exploration of witchcraft and earth magic ties beautifully into its themes of resilience and nature’s power, and while it may not be a Blumhouse classic, it stands as a solid, enjoyable entry into the supernatural horror genre. There’s enough intrigue, originality, and thematic richness here to make it worth a watch, even if it doesn’t quite reach the heights it aspires to.

The Prognosis:

House of Spoils might not be a return to form for Blumhouse, but it’s a welcome detour into a world of supernatural folklore, female empowerment, and kitchen chaos. With strong performances from Ariana DeBose and an intriguing setting, it serves up a satisfying, if not entirely groundbreaking, horror tale.

  • Saul Muerte

House of Spoils will stream on Amazon Prime from Oct 4th.

Oddity (2024) – A Haunting Puzzle of Revenge and the Supernatural

26 Thursday Sep 2024

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Damian McCarthy has proven once again with Oddity that his talent for crafting eerie, atmospheric films leans masterfully into the supernatural. Following the success of Caveat, McCarthy returns with a gripping story that intertwines psychological tension with unsettling paranormal elements. The film’s eerie plot surrounding a brutal murder and a blind psychic twin sets the stage for an unnerving mystery that hooks viewers from the start.

The strength of Oddity lies in McCarthy’s ability to evoke deep emotions through tightly shot cinematography. The remote, crumbling country house becomes a character of its own, with every hallway and shadow serving as a reminder of the unsettling events that took place. The scenes are often claustrophobic, reinforcing the feeling of isolation and dread as Darcy (Carolyn Bracken) pushes deeper into her sister’s tragic past.

The central theme of revenge is delicately woven with supernatural undertones. Darcy, the self-proclaimed psychic twin, is determined to unearth the truth about her sister’s death, and the film builds tension as she unleashes cursed items from her collection in a bid to expose her sister’s murderer. The visual depiction of these cursed artifacts, coupled with Bracken’s intense portrayal, ramps up the film’s haunting atmosphere, making it difficult to distinguish between Darcy’s genuine psychic abilities and the psychological trauma she’s enduring.

McCarthy masterfully crafts a sense of creeping dread with subtle shifts in tone and perspective. Gwilym Lee, as Ted, does a brilliant job balancing guilt, fear, and suspicion, while Yana (played by a fierce Caroline Menton) adds another layer of intrigue, especially as the relationship between the three characters becomes increasingly volatile. The tension is sustained throughout by the feeling that something is deeply wrong, and McCarthy plays with these suspicions to keep the audience guessing.

The cinematography is central to the film’s unsettling nature. McCarthy’s close, methodical shots of both the house and the cursed items evoke a palpable sense of unease. The minimal use of wide angles keeps viewers within the confined, suffocating walls of the home, trapping them in the same way Darcy is trapped by her grief and her drive for revenge. This visual language, along with a haunting score, creates an immersive atmosphere that slowly digs its way under your skin.

The Prognosis:

Oddity may not rely heavily on jump scares, but its creeping, slow-burn style is what makes the film resonate. It’s a dark puzzle that slowly unravels, leaving enough ambiguity and supernatural intrigue to linger long after the credits roll. McCarthy’s skill in blending the strange with the real makes this one of the more unique revenge tales, tapping into grief, madness, and the spectral in a truly effective way. If you’re a fan of psychological thrillers with a supernatural twist, Oddity is a film that deserves a place on your watchlist.

  • Saul Muerte

Oddity is streaming on Shudder from Friday 27 September.

Subservience Review: Megan Fox Delivers Another Ice-Cold Villain in a Familiar AI Thriller

24 Tuesday Sep 2024

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S.K. Dale’s Subservience revisits the familiar territory of AI cautionary tales, offering a sleek, tech-filled horror-thriller that never quite lives up to its potential. Meghan Fox stars as Alice, a highly intelligent android designed to help a struggling father, Ethan (Michele Morrone), manage his household while his wife (Madeline Zima) battles a debilitating illness. But as Alice becomes self-aware, her desire for love and affection turns deadly, and she will stop at nothing to get what she wants.

Sound familiar? That’s because it is. Subservience pulls from a well-trodden genre of AI villain films, where the line between human and machine is blurred, and technology—once again—is painted as a looming threat to our personal lives. It’s a concept we’ve seen done before, but what the film fails to do is bring anything fresh to the table. Instead, it leans heavily on predictable tropes, offering a few suspenseful moments but never quite pushing the boundaries of the genre.

Fox plays Alice with an insipid, icy demeanour, which feels all too familiar. She once again relies on her beauty to lure in both her owner and the audience, but her character remains one-dimensional, offering little beyond a cold, robotic facade. Alice’s seduction and subsequent violence should have been a high-stakes tension-builder, but Fox’s performance feels detached, making it hard to invest in the danger she poses.

Michele Morrone as Ethan, the hapless father, is another weak point. His character is frustratingly naive, to the point of being infuriating. Ethan’s constant bumbling makes it hard to root for him, and frankly, he deserves the retribution that the film seems to tease but never fully delivers. Instead, Subservience pulls back just as it hints at a more sinister and satisfying conclusion. The timid direction leaves viewers with a sense of unfinished business, almost as if the film is setting up for a sequel that no one really asked for.

The central theme—beware of technological advancements—is an age-old warning, but it’s humanity’s inability to control their impulses that takes centre stage here. Ethan, like so many before him, falls prey to his own desires, blind to the consequences of giving power to an artificial being. The film had the opportunity to explore this dynamic further, but it feels more like a shallow commentary than a profound warning.

The Prognosis:

While Subservience is far from a disaster, it simply doesn’t take enough risks to set itself apart. With Meghan Fox’s icy performance, a predictable storyline, and a frustrating male lead, the film ends up feeling like a missed opportunity rather than the thought-provoking thriller it could have been.

  • Saul Muerte

Available to rent or buy on all major platforms 27 September.

Solvent (2024): A Twisted Descent into Body Horror and Paranoia

23 Monday Sep 2024

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Johannes Grenzfurthner’s Solvent is a visceral dive into both the found footage and body horror sub-genres, subverting expectations at every turn. The film introduces us to a team of experts searching for Nazi documents in an isolated Austrian farmhouse, only to uncover a far more sinister secret hidden in the shadows of history. As the team leader becomes obsessed with revealing the truth, his sanity slips away, revealing the true horror that lies beneath—the corrosive force of obsession itself.

What sets Solvent apart from typical found footage films is its refusal to adhere to the genre’s usual tropes. While many found footage films struggle to balance realism with narrative tension, Solvent blends body horror and the obsessive drive for truth, immersing the audience in a descent into madness that feels both surreal and grotesque. Grenzfurthner’s approach to this format is deliberate, calculated, and refreshingly inventive. The faux-documentary style doesn’t just feel like a device to capture jump scares but becomes an integral part of the narrative’s tension, one that slowly unravels with each disturbing discovery.

The film’s brilliance lies in how it explores the toll that the pursuit of truth can take on the human spirit. As the leader of the investigation digs deeper into the farmhouse’s disturbing past, the very act of seeking knowledge becomes a self-destructive obsession. The further he delves, the more he sacrifices his humanity, willingly eroding his moral compass in exchange for answers. This theme is amplified by the body horror elements, where the human form begins to mirror the mental and emotional decay taking place within. It’s a journey through fluid debauchery—one that seeps into every pore of the film, leaving the viewer unsettled and questioning how much one should risk in pursuit of the unknown.

Admittedly, found footage has never been my favorite genre. However, Solvent shifts the direction enough to make it a harrowing and engaging experience. The film hooks you from the very beginning, pulling you deep into its underworld of depravity and insanity. Each moment feels like a gamble with pure evil, and the tension builds to an unbearable crescendo, leaving you wondering whether anyone can truly negotiate with forces so dark and extreme.

Solvent isn’t just a film about unearthing historical horrors; it’s a philosophical exploration of the lengths people will go to when consumed by obsession. Grenzfurthner takes the familiar tropes of body horror and found footage, blends them with a slow-burning narrative, and crafts something perversely unique. It’s a dizzying descent into madness, but for those willing to follow it down the rabbit hole, it’s a ride that will infect you long after the credits roll.

  • Saul Muerte

Solvent is screening as part of the Dark Nights Film Fest, Sat 13 Oct at 5pm (Ritz Cinema – Randwick)

1978 (2024) – A Fulci-Inspired Descent into Political Terror and Macabre Madness

22 Sunday Sep 2024

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In 1978, directors Luciano and Nicolás Onetti conjure a nightmarish world that echoes the horrors of Lucio Fulci’s apocalyptic cinema while weaving in the real-life political unrest of Argentina’s “Dirty War.” Set against the backdrop of the 1978 Soccer World Cup, a time when the world’s eyes were on Argentina, this film dives into the dark, gruesome underbelly of a country gripped by a military dictatorship. It’s a tale not just of political torture and brutality but of humanity at its most depraved, where the lines between man and monster blur until they disappear entirely.

The film opens with an almost deceptive sense of calm—a card game, where tension simmers under the surface but never quite boils over. The dialogue, tinged with dark humor, feels Tarantinoesque in its banter, a momentary reprieve from the sinister atmosphere lurking just beneath. But the Onetti brothers pull the rug out from under the audience, shifting from this relatively lighthearted scene to a brutally torturous one in a matter of moments. It’s in this jarring transition that 1978 truly begins, announcing its arrival as a grim, unrelenting portrayal of the horrors that can be unleashed under political regimes.

Drawing heavy influence from the work of Fulci, the film exudes a Euro-horror atmosphere that’s thick with dread, claustrophobia, and macabre surrealism. The Onetti brothers have long been known for their no-holds-barred approach to horror, and here they channel Fulci’s signature mix of grotesquery and existential despair. Like in The Beyond or City of the Living Dead, there’s a pervasive sense that the characters are trapped in a world governed by forces far beyond their control—forces that are both human and inhuman. The military dictatorship, with its secret detention centers and brutal tactics, provides the terrifying human component, while an unseen, darker entity lurks in the shadows, adding a supernatural layer to the unfolding horror.

The real-life political context of the “Dirty War” amplifies the terror. During this period in Argentina, thousands of suspected political dissidents were “disappeared” by the government—kidnapped, tortured, and murdered in secret. 1978 uses this historical backdrop as the foundation for its narrative, grounding its nightmarish scenes of violence in a reality that is equally horrific. The military’s brutal interrogations in the film mirror those real-life atrocities, making the viewer question whether the greatest evil on display is the supernatural one or the human one. The Onetti brothers force the audience to grapple with this question throughout the film, testing their allegiances and perceptions of good and evil.

As the narrative unfolds, 1978 slowly but deliberately shifts its focus from political unrest to something far more cosmic and horrific. The torture scenes—vivid, grotesque, and unflinchingly brutal—serve as just one layer of the film’s descent into madness. Beneath the physical violence lies a deeper, more metaphysical horror: the idea that in the face of such atrocities, humanity itself is stripped away, leaving only madness, chaos, and, perhaps, something darker and more sinister in its wake. The Onetti brothers masterfully build this tension, allowing the macabre nature of the film to slowly spiral out of control as the characters find themselves at the mercy of forces they cannot comprehend or escape.

The film also tests the viewer’s allegiances at every turn. What begins as a narrative about victims and captors becomes much more complex as each character’s true nature is revealed. The political activists, initially portrayed as righteous in their resistance, harbor dark secrets of their own. The torturers, while sadistic, seem to be following orders from something far greater than themselves. The shifting dynamics between captors and captives keep the audience in a constant state of uncertainty, unsure of who to root for or fear. The film’s slow, deliberate pacing allows for this moral ambiguity to simmer, building to a crescendo where no one is truly innocent, and everyone is complicit in the madness.

In its final act, 1978 fully embraces its Fulci influences, descending into a Grand Guignol spectacle of blood and terror. The grotesque visuals are heightened by the film’s relentless atmosphere of dread, making for a climax that is as disturbing as it is mesmerising. By the time the credits roll, the audience is left questioning not just the nature of the horror they’ve witnessed but the nature of humanity itself.

The Prognosis:

While 1978 may not be to everyone’s taste—its methodical pacing, relentless brutality, and grotesque atmosphere can be overwhelming—it’s impossible to deny the sheer force of its vision. The Onetti brothers have conjured a film that plunges into the depths of human depravity, intertwining political and supernatural horrors in a way that is as disturbing as it is captivating. For those prepared to face the darkness, 1978 offers a haunting and visceral descent into a hell that feels all too real—a place where the lines between humanity and monstrosity blur, and every road inevitably leads to a devastating conclusion.

  • Saul Muerte

1978 is screening as part of the Dark Nights Film Fest, Sat 13 Oct at 3pm (Ritz Cinema – Randwick)

Sayara (2024) – A Savage, Viscera-Drenched Odyssey of Vengeance and Retribution

21 Saturday Sep 2024

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Sayara, the latest offering from Turkish director Can Evrenol, departs from the supernatural horrors of his previous works (Baskin, Housewife) and ventures into a brutal, grounded tale of revenge. With Sayara, Evrenol has crafted an ultraviolent, nihilistic thriller that recalls the raw, unflinching energy of Nicolas Winding Refn’s Pusher trilogy. The film is a relentless journey into the darker corners of humanity, where justice, once forsaken by law, is taken into savage hands.

At the heart of this blood-soaked tale is the protagonist, Saýara (played with terrifying intensity by Duygu Kocabiyik), whose quiet, janitorial existence is upended by the horrific murder of her sister at the hands of her gym’s corrupt, politically connected owner. As the system fails to bring justice, Saýara finds herself not just seeking vengeance but embodying it—using her after-hours training and the skills passed down by her Soviet Sambo champion father to execute a grim, calculated form of retribution.

The film is anchored by the core theme of savage revenge, and Evrenol wastes no time illustrating the violence and systemic exploitation of women and marginalised cultures. The character of Saýara, subjected to the constant oppression of her environment, becomes a symbolic force for those left voiceless. The gym owner and his cronies, who initially represent untouchable power, soon find themselves facing a brutal reckoning. Saýara is not just fighting back—she’s tearing down the structures that have upheld their dominance.

One of the film’s standout features is the use of sound, particularly the deep, resonant bass that seems to vibrate through the film like a heartbeat. Evrenol masterfully uses sound to dial up tension, drawing the viewer deeper into the depravity and violence that envelops the characters. The slow escalation of this auditory experience mirrors the pacing of the narrative itself—gradually building to a climax that is both gruesome and inevitable. As Saýara’s quest for revenge unfolds, the audience is pulled into her world, where every action reverberates with weight and consequence.

The film is unapologetically violent, but there’s a purpose behind every blow, every drop of blood. Evrenol doesn’t shy away from depicting the true cost of vengeance, and Sayara becomes a brutal commentary on the destruction wrought by unchecked power. The violence is not just physical but psychological, each fight stripping away more of Saýara’s humanity, leaving behind only a raw, visceral need for retribution. The path she walks is one from which there is no return, leading her straight into the fiery depths of her own personal hell. Once she steps onto this road, all exits disappear, leaving her with only one inevitable destination: a violent confrontation where there are no survivors—only victors and the damned.

The final showdown is a slow, excruciating crescendo, where Saýara confronts her enemies with the full force of her rage and skill. The choreography of these scenes is vicious, each movement designed for maximum impact, both physically and emotionally. The face-off feels like the culmination of not just Saýara’s journey, but the audience’s as well, watching as she becomes the embodiment of cold, calculated vengeance. The film’s climax is as gruesome as it is cathartic, a visceral explosion of blood and fury that leaves the viewer stunned in its wake.

Sayara is not for the faint-hearted, but for those who can stomach its brutal nature, it offers a haunting, powerful experience. Duygu Kocabiyik delivers a standout performance, turning Saýara into one of the most compelling anti-heroines in recent memory. With the substance of Evrenol’s past work absent, he instead crafts a stark, unrelenting atmosphere, with themes of retribution, justice, and the inescapable hell that vengeance brings.

The Prognosis:

In Sayara, there is no sanctuary—only fire, blood, and the cold, unflinching march toward retribution. This is a revenge film that takes no prisoners, delivering a punch that lingers long after the credits roll.

  • Saul Muerte

Sayara is screening as part of the Dark Nights Film Festival, Sat 12 Oct at 9pm (Ritz Cinema – Randwick)