DEMAND PARANORMAL ACTIVITY IN YOUR HOMETOWN
enter your film now
Darker Side of Film is looking for amateur films for Amateur Focus III. If you have made a horror, science fiction, dark comedy, or dark fantasy with a bunch of friends, then you are an amateur filmmaker.
Enter your film now for a chance to be featured in DSoF’s monthly series, Amateur Focus. The winning film will be featured here and receive Wes Craven’s original Last House on the Left Rob Schmidt’s Wrong Turn DVD.
If you have a film to enter, you can leave a comment below, email drewsg@hotmail.com, or direct message me through twitter.
Good luck.
Drew Golburgh/Darker Side of Film
Emergency Alert System scrolls across a red banner in the center of the screen. Static and fuzz give way to a channel 10 news reporter describing the chaos around him, “the dead are walking.” Suddenly he is shoved aside; a United States Army soldier speaks into the camera, “The President of the United States has declared martial law; you need to get in your houses…” Machine gun fire erupts nearby.
Coven De La Cruz was “a little nervous” about writing, directing, and producing his first film. But armed with a strong vision, a tight crew, and a bag full of good advice, Coven set about making his slick zombie short. Clean, crisp, and tightly constructed, the opening segment of Our Days Are Numbered presents a young filmmaker in control of his craft.
And showcasing his craft is clearly what writer/director/SFX artist De La Cruz has intended for his first effort. A brief title sequence, including a clever animated credit for Coven’s Condemned Productions, is followed by interesting shots of blood covered walls. The glistening stains appear freshly made, setting the stage nicely for what is to follow.
Yet another entry into the found footage category, we first meet Andy, Casey and Ken through the lens of a security camera as their pick-up truck enters the frame. Parking their smoking truck just before an ominously abandoned hearse, Ken begins recording the last days of this apocalypse. “Basically, we’re in the middle of a big, fucking shit storm,” Andy says. He then explains the last 5 weeks goings on and how they managed to survive. Then tells the camera, “We’re thinking about moving to another town, or some shit…the zombies aren’t like they are in the movies; they’re real fast.” This segment, though, seems rushed and clunky and nearly derails the momentum.
But this one misstep is only a bridge to the final destination; Our Days Our Numbered is really a teaser introducing the many talents of Mr. De La Cruz. Casey thinks there may be survivors hiding in the hearse. What is clearly a cheap scare tactic is in the end an effective transition into the films climactic conclusion. Zombies, zombies, and more zombies race toward our heroes; a zombie clown takes a screwdriver in the forehead and another takes a bullet engraved with a special message (fuck you). But amidst the chaos, Casey is bitten; thus providing the film’s emotional hook.
It is all fun and playfully presented. The music, by Warthrone, adds a sense of frantic dread to the goings on, but it is the inventive use of film magic that ultimately propels Our Days Our Numbered. Coven De La Cruz has a vision, but he also has the artistry to make more from less. And as the end credits roll and Warthrone pounds out their vocals, De La Cruz treats us to more delicious zombie feasting.
The final spoken line of the film, “I love you,” is a nice touch, a special message to his audience. And if Coven is able to parlay this effort and deliver to genre fans the gore, the make-up, and the carnage in his next film, The Days Before, that he displayed in this film, then soon he will be hearing the same words from a large core of screaming fans. [De La Cruz is currently shooting The Days Before, a prequal to Our Days Are Numbered, in full HD somewhere in VA]
What would happen if you put 14 strangers in a room, equip each with deadly collars, warn them of the killer instincts of a select few, and then turn out the lights? This scenario should sound familiar; it has been done better in movies like Cube, Fermat’s Room and Battle Royale. However, co-directors John Suits and Gabriel Cowan’s first movie, Breathing Room, should be judged less on the originality of the premise and more on the skillful execution of the action.
Tonya awakens in the Breathing Room to learn that she is the 14th and final contestant in the game. A slip of paper warns her that “player 5 does not tell the truth.” What is she to think? How can she know what is real? She quickly discovers that Lee, contestant six, has assumed the leadership role and is working hard to keep everyone together. But there are dissenters, those who cannot be trusted to follow the rules; those whose only concern is to remain hidden. The host warns them all, “Rules are rules my children. Choose your fate or have your fate chosen.”
Please read my full review at Beyond the Dark Horizon.
Leatherface, Michael, Jason, Freddy, Pinhead. Over the past four decades, these names, some of them our friend’s names, some of them merely physical descriptors of their unique attribute, evoke vivid images of carnage and death. But they also represent a renaissance in horror, a rebranding of the dark genre that now, 30 years later, is under assault by a scared and timid Hollywood industry. In sequel after sequel, these madmen dispatched their victims with imaginatively staged brutality while revealing more and more of their tragic back-stories. Ultimately, however, their goals remained simple, their motives basic.
In 2006, Craig Singer (Perkins 14) introduced to a new generation another simple minded killer, Jonah. Deep within Asbury Park’s very own dark ride lurks a porcelain doll-faced maniac waiting to rip the insides out of unsuspecting children. Dark Ride opens 20 years in the past. Twin girls sit securely in their cart as it smashes through doors, slows to a deadening pace, and jerks around hidden corners. Just as the girls begin to relax and enjoy the thrilling scares, one sister is violently ripped from her seat. But the car continues on its path, leading the terrified twin past her disemboweled counterpart and her baby faced executioner; it is a chilling introduction.
Please read my full review at Fangoria’sGorezone.
Growing Out
Tom (Michael Hampton), an aspiring singer/songwriter, has just been fired from open mic night. Walking aimlessly down the street, he comes upon a house.
Aunt Elora’s house looks a lot like Tom’s grandmother’s house, except for the one armed man singing and strumming the guitar on the front stoop, the cobweb and dust filled rooms, and the dead bird on the kitchen floor. But none of this, not even the mysterious old woman imprisoned in the upstairs bedroom in demand of pastrami on rye cut straight, “not diagonal,” each day, can dissuade him from accepting free room and board (“aint nothin’s free,” Vernon says) in exchange for a little cleaning and room service.
Please find my complete review in the August issue of Shallow Graves Magazine on sale now.
Fermat’s Room
“There is a true land and a false land. Those in the true land always tell the truth. Those in the false land, always lie.” In Fermat’s room, the difference between the two exists within the 4 walls of one shrinking room, where four mathematicians have been brought together by a mysterious host to solve a great enigma. Once inside the meticulously designed room, tension mounts as the walls begin to close in around them. As time and space run out, the four participants must solve complex riddles while contemplating the mystery and motive behind their predicament.
Clocking in at just over 90 minutes, Luis Piedrahita’s Fermat’s Room is a fast paced, clever exercise in desperation, studying man’s intellectual capacity under incomprehensible duress. Fermat’s room is not for everyone, though, and Piedrahita reveals as much when over black screen, a voice says, “Do you know what prime numbers are? If you don’t you should leave now.” Somewhat tongue in cheek, this is a warning to viewers of the mind boggling mathematical madness that will follow.
Please find my complete review in the August issue of Shallow Graves Magazine on sale now.
The Objective
Daniel Myrick, one half of the Blair Witch Project team, has been very active producing such notable films as Rest Stop, Tony Krantz’s Sublime and Otis, and executive producing The Presence, a ghost story starring Mira Sorvino and Shane West. As a director, however, aside from three obscure direct to video productions, The Objective is Myrick’s first theatrically released film since Blair Witch.
Disguised as a supernatural ghost story set in the desert of Afghanistan during the current war, The Objective comes complete with video camera point of views, sounds emanating from invisible forces, and strange wooden triangles appearing suddenly in the isolated desert terrain, all of which evoke an odd feeling of déjà vu.
Please find my complete review in the August issue of Shallow Graves Magazine on sale now.
It is 1957. A soviet cargo plane heads toward the North Pole. The pilots decide to enact their plan early. Moving toward the back of the plane, the co-pilot attempts to kill the human cargo. A gun fight erupts, killing everyone on board and sending the plane plummeting to the icy surface. Before the main titles appear, we see a locked wooden box still in tact.
Cut to present day Antarctica. Dominic Sena’s Whiteout, based on a graphic novel by Greg Rucka and Steve Lieber, presents Kate Beckinsdale (Underworld) as U.S. Marshall Carrie Stetko. Following her off the plane, into the station, and then into her living quarters, we get to watch her remove her heavy winter gear piece by piece, run her hands through her hair, remove her sports bra, and turn towards the shower. As she bends over to turn on the steaming hot water, Sena begs us to stay. By granting us a close up of Ms. Beckinsdale’s beautiful backside, he must be apologizing for keeping her covered in heavy coats for the rest of the movie.
Please read my full review at Shallow Graves Magazine.
What happens to a faithful, devoted husband when his gorgeous wife would rather sleep than make love? Writer/Director James Gunn aims to study the psychological storm that takes place within one man’s rejected psyche in the 2006 horror/comedy Slither. Grant Grant has always gotten what he wanted. Now he’s older, though, and with age comes doubt. When Starla, his beautiful and much younger wife, denies him his marital rights, Grant embarks on a sexual feeding frenzy beyond all rational comprehension.
It is deer hunting season in Wheelsy, and Hennenlotter’s (Basket Case anyone?) Saddle Lodge is sponsoring the town celebration. Testosterone levels are high as the townsfolk load their weapons in preparation for the kill. Grant Grant (Michael Rooker, Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer) sits at the bar in serious contemplation. Wondering if his wife still finds him attractive, he sets out to prove “that man should have dominion.” Stumbling into the woods with casual acquaintance, Brenda, Grant notices a strange object in the clearing. He pokes it with a stick.
Please read my full review at Beyond the Dark Horizon.
Baby, why aren’t you screaming? Oh god, why aren’t you screaming?
The camera lies on its side, capturing a world gone askew. The thrashing and screaming just beyond the wall is a sign that things are coming to an end. Ellen Tombs, covered in blood and desperately hoping for rescue, may just be the last surviving member of a society on the brink; or she may be the last surviving member of her own household. Either way, there is enough packed into Mike’s and Ike’s short feature to warrant a longer study of Ellen’s predicament.
Titled “Surprise,” Mike and Ike’s horror short doesn’t bother with explanation, set up, or tired cliche’s. Instead, the audience is plunged in through a static camera, like voyeurs granted unfettered access to one’s most personal moments. Ellen Tombs, embodied brilliantly by actress Colleen McEuen, is this movie. For six minutes, she struggles to come to terms with the end of her family. First, she is desperate to calm the tortured soul just outside the basement. “Don’t worry,” she assures him, “someone will come.” Quickly establishing a larger mythology, Ellen’s monologue effortlessly delivers one surprise after another.
Once the screaming outside the basement ceases, Ellen panics. “Why aren’t you screaming?” she cries. When only silence returns, her fragile will is broken. Now angry and alone, her desperation turns to anger. “Fuck you for killing the world!” Who is she talking to? Surrounded on all sides by mystery and despair, Ellen represents the strength of a species facing extinction. And this realization comes to its peak toward this short film’s conclusion.
Ellen suddenly spots the camera and slowly lowers her head into frame. “Is this on?” she asks. “November 20th, 2007. Everybody’s dead.” And this is the way the world ends. I hope not. A short this fully realized deserves more attention. Mike and Ike’s script delivers six minutes of intensity; filled with surprises and despair, Episode 8 of the Mike and Ike Show (on twitter @itsmikeandike) is a promising excerpt of what, hopefully, is coming next.
Please watch the short film below. And remember, “it is not funny.”
that's no fun
The world is gripped by recession, tortured by war, and split apart by ideology. A subgenre of horror, influenced indeed by the hulking, mindless killers created so many years ago, has gained popularity among the masses and captured the profit hungry minds of the Hollywood brass. Movies like Hostel, Wolf Creek, The Devil’s Rejects and the Saw sequels place irredeemable caricatures in the grips of sadistic torturers with an unflinching penchant for inflicting pointless pain. It is too often torture for the sake of torture.
The unexplained success of this subgenre, combined with the financial distress of the big studios, has now lead to a rash of horror remakes. Halloween, My Bloody Valentine, April Fool’s Day, The Hills Have Eyes, Prom Night, and Friday the 13th have all been given the treatment. Platinum Dunes, after the hugely successful The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in 2003 (107 million on a 9.5 million dollar budget), has continued to capitalize on the formula. 2005’s The Amityville Horror (108 million on a 19 million dollar budget), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (51 million on a 16 million dollar budget), and The Unborn (72 million on a 16 million dollar budget) have all found huge audiences by following the same tired formula.
not your father's Jason
Welcome to 2009 and Platinum Dunes remake of Friday the 13th (90 million on a 19 million dollar budget). Combining elements from the first three Friday the 13th movies, this remake ignores all of the essential elements of the original mythology while reinventing Jason as an intelligent, focused killer who makes his home, complete with childhood bed, trophies, and pictures, in a crumbling cabin within the confines of Camp Crystal Lake. Missing are the camp counselors, the innocent kids, the lurking presence, the legend of “Camp Blood,” and the slow motion point of view shots so important to the original’s legendary success.
Marcus Nispel’s version opens with the killing of Jason’s mother; it happens, like everything in this version, quickly. As soon as mommy’s severed head hits the ground, we meet Jason, presented from the waist down. “Kill for mommy,” rings in his head. In this Friday the 13th, he does not rise from the lake. He picks up the machete from beside his mother’s dead body and walks on. Nispel is going for realism.
But the true nature of this Friday redux is revealed during the next segment. A group of kids trek through the woods in search of a hidden crop of marijuana. Lost and tired, they set up camp not too far from Crystal Lake. A brief campfire story introduces these kids to the legend of Jason before they each break off on separate missions. Wade, the odd man out of this fivesome, turns up the music on his iPod. As Night Ranger’s Sister Christian fills his head, he ventures off into the woods where he stumbles upon the elusive magical crop. But too quickly, Jason appears to wipe him out.
this Jason has a plan
Whitney and her boyfriend head off on a random jaunt through the dark woods when they stumble upon the camp. Entering a broken down cabin, they find Jason’s home. The evidence is strong that this cabin is inhabited; and combined with the campfire tale still fresh in their minds it would seem implausible that these two would stick around as long as they do.
Meanwhile, Richie and his girlfriend are getting it on in the tent. When said girlfriend thinks she hears Wade secretly listening, she sends Richie out for a look, “I can’t go out there with a boner,” he says. Stumbling out of the tent, he does not see Wade. Instead of climbing back onto his girlfriend, he calls to Wade and treks from the clearing deep into the woods. Soon Richie stumbles upon the weed patch, where he finds Wade’s lifeless body. Frantically running back to the tent, he witnesses his girlfriend, wrapped in her sleeping bag and dangling above the campfire. Suddenly, a bear trap snaps his leg nearly in half.
You see, this Jason is a torturer, thoughtfully setting bear traps, booby trapping his campsite, and hanging girls from trees so that they will slowly burn to death. This Jason is not the sad, motherless boy forever alone, but a brutal, angry murderer. And when Whitney races back to the camp to find Richie struggling against the bear trap, Nispel presents his final thesis with extreme speed. Whitney, with back to Jason, strains to pull the trap apart. Jason sprints towards them; Richie stares up at the approaching figure, frozen in shock. And before he can get a word out, Jason’s machete slams powerfully into his skull. Jason then violently separates his machete from Richie’s head with a violent kick to the shoulder. This Jason is nimble, graceful.
cracked skull? so what?
Then, amidst the silent shock, with little impact, the generic title appears on black screen. No music, no sound effects, and no fun. From here, Platinum Dunes Friday the 13th presents a generic slasher story. A group of annoying college kids on vacation in daddy’s lake house indulge themselves with drink, drugs, and sex. Clay, Supernatural’s Jared Padalecki, arrives in town on the same day to continue searching for his missing sister. The town’s lone cop insists she is not in town, and tells Clay to move on.
The set up, like each moment so far, is quick, tired, and dull. Once the killing starts, Nispel makes an unforgivable error. An arrow through the skull sends a speeding boat toward a fallen water skier. After the boat violently strikes her head, a visible gash gushes blood. Her vision blurred, she sees Jason standing lakeside. Racing in the other direction, the injured, bloodied girl finds refuge underneath a dock. But when she comes up for air, there is no more blood, no more gash in her head. It is an amateur’s oversight, and one that only highlights the lack of respect this redux has for its audience.
The remake has become Hollywood’s gold; audiences flock to the theaters, it seems, more out of curiosity than excitement. This Friday the 13th offers none of the original’s charm, none of the original’s mythology. But the formula is working. And there are even more on the way. Platinum Dunes currently has remakes of A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Birds, and Near Dark in development. And as long as audiences continue to hand over their dollars, Platinum Dunes, and others like them, will continue to find successful horror titles from the past to regurgitate for the future. There is one sure thing in Hollywood; everyone follows the leader regardless of the direction.
