Showing posts with label Best Horror Films of 2012. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Best Horror Films of 2012. Show all posts

Saturday, 29 June 2013

AMERICAN MARY (BLU-RAY & DVD) Review By Greg Klymkiw - COUNTDOWN TO CANADA DAY 2013 - One of the best Canadian horror films of all time! Now available on Blu-Ray/DVD from Anchor Bay Entertainment Canada

L'Avare de cinéma et les étranges
soeurs jumelles du cinéma d'horreur
vous accueillent dans leur lieu de perdition
qui est remplie de plaisirs insondables.

American Mary (2012) ****
Dir. Jennifer Soska and Sylvia Soska
Starring: Katharine Isabelle

Blu-Ray/DVD Review
By Greg Klymkiw


The time has come for all serious fans and aficionadi of truly magnificent horror to rejoice in whatever manner they choose. They might wish to hoist a glass of the best bubbly or partake in Holy Communion in their favourite Catholic Church or dance naked in the moonlight, covered in the blood of a virgin sacrifice. There is, finally, no celebratory activity too grand for this genuinely momentous occasion.

American Mary has arrived for private home consumption via Anchor Bay Entertainment Canada on two formats - Blu-Ray and DVD - and whichever is your poison, you'll be guaranteed a lifetime of joy. Unlike using the far inferior streaming or download formats such as Netflix, iTunes, etc. there is NOTHING - and I goddamn well mean this - NOTHING like owning the product itself in a form that will allow the very best picture quality. Add the packaging and added features to the mix and there's no substitute for home entertainment of the highest order - especially the kind you can put your mitts, handle with admiration, place lovingly on display in an IKEA Billy Bookcase and, in general, just plain fetishize.

And let it be said, that American Mary IS entertainment of the highest order! I've (insanely) seen this movie six (count 'em - 1,2,3,4,5...6!!!) times. I've let it unspool before me twice in motion picture theatres (once in the majestic Bloor Hot Docs Cinema during the Toronto After Dark Film Festival and then again at the AMC Yonge and Dundas Cinema during a Cineplex Entertainment Front Row Centre event presented by Sinister Cinema and Anchor Bay), twice more on a DVD screening copy and yet two more times on the new Anchor Bay Blu-Ray (NOT counting my one screening of the film with the commentary track).

My first helping of the film was a mind-blower. They say you never forget your "first time". THEY are correct. However, like any "first time" activity worth its weight in gold, American Mary gets better and better. This is no mere "entertainment" (though entertaining it most certainly is), but it's without question one of the best Canadian Horror Films of all time (and the land of the Beaver and the Maple Leaf has been a leader in this department for decades, so to proclaim the film as such is no backhanded compliment). Moreover, and I'll go out on a limb here, but I'm more convinced than ever that American Mary is one of the best horror films of all time - period! That it's Canadian is the mere cherry on the ice cream sundae for those of us who live above the 49th parallel.

I've written extensively about the film, so I'll include a cut-and-paste to my most recent review below (AND, you can read my scintillating interview with its brilliant directors in the next issue of the immortal Joe Kane's "Phantom of the Movies VIDEOSCOPE"), but I want to use today's column to briefly discuss what's on the Blu-Ray/DVD, but also, what I hope can eventually be included on any future releases of the film. Since the Soska Twins are destined for greatness and more movies, I suspect that eventually there will be a Special Limited Edition to end all Special Limited Editions. (Well, at least through MY rose-coloured lenses.)

First of all, for those of you who've inexplicably not made the move to Blu-Ray, I'm happy to report that the picture looks just fine on DVD - especially when it's up-rezzed to an HD monitor with a DVD player that allows up-rezzing. If you already own a Blu-Ray player and an HD monitor, the DVD looks especially amazing, but I'd really have to wonder WHY you'd buy a DVD disc when Blu-Ray is available. You're either a bear of very little brain and/or little faith. No matter. DVD is a more than acceptable format and for my money, it still beats streaming and downloading - maybe not by much, but it beats it all the same.

HOWEVER, the Blu-Ray edition of American Mary is completely and utterly orgasmic. This is ultimately the best way to see the movie at home - bar none. The Soska Twins have a great imagination, but even better (and most importantly for the best filmmakers), they have a phenomenal eye (well, actually, make that, uh... FOUR eyes).

Working with an astounding team of artists, all aspects of the cinematography and other visual accoutrements (including, but not limited to production design, costumes and F/X) are, on Blu-Ray, simply astounding. Wherever the film was mastered digitally, I am thrilled to report that the colourist and whomever he/she worked with from the creative team indelibly captured the visual richness of this great film (sometimes overt, more often intelligent and subtle). The sound also kicks major ass. The location sound in addition to the post-production sound design, cutting and mixing is rich and varied and as such, translates magnificently to Blu-Ray.

The added features will definitely please fans of the film and the Soska Twins.

The primary value of the "making of" bonus is giving us a few excellent snapshots of how the Soskas work collaboratively with what clearly appears to be a crack crew. Thankfully, it never comes off like some slick, bullshit glorified electronic presskit. Christ, I hate those things. They're so goddamned phoney-baloney. I can't imagine why anyone in their right mind would want to watch them on a Blu-Ray/DVD. Even worse is that they're actually made and used so heavily by media outlets in the first place which, frankly, is merely another example of how lazy, unimaginative and dumbed-down broadcasters (and sadly, most other mainstream media) have become when covering cinema.

It's a nice feature, but I do think the title used for this segment, "The Making of American Mary" is, well... a tad unimaginative. It gives the impression that you WILL be watching some horseshit glorified EPK instead of what you DO get. The piece feels like it has a bit of an arc to it and as such, might have benefited at the concept and cutting level with a more defined title (and hence approach, or in egghead terms: thesis) - something like: American Mary: The Collaborative Process - which is, essentially what this added feature offers in an almost purely direct cinema fashion.

Secondly, the Blu-Ray/DVD includes the de rigueur commentary track and again, it's going to please fans of the film immensely. Jen and Sylv Soska lead the discussion as the movie unspools with added comments from the brilliant actresses Tristan Risk and Katharine Isabelle. There's a bevy of tidbits thrown our way about the making of the film that bounce almost seamlessly from screen specific to in-depth to anecdotal. All four ladies seem comfortable together and it has the feel of old friends/collaborators getting together for a few drinks to sit in front of the movie and reminisce about it.

However, Isabelle appears to be on a speaker phone. I have no problem with this, but some twisted post-modernist excuse for this could have been offered up. When I couldn't be present for the recording of a commentary track for one of the Guy Maddin movies I produced, I used a crappy little cassette recorder, made a whole bunch of comments timed to scene specific moments, sent the tape to Guy, whereupon he brought his crappy portable cassette player to the official recording and announced I was present via trans-Atlantic cable. Given that American Mary is cult film of the highest order, a similarly perverse approach might have been nice to please a handful of mega-geeks.

At the end of the day, there's not a darn thing wrong with either of these added bonii, but I have to say that this is the perfect film to describe my own frustration over the use of extra features. I think doing more than what's been done for this initial home entertainment release of the Soskas' film would indeed be a bit much, however, I keep seeing terrific films like American Mary that, at some later juncture deserve so much more.

For example, I can imagine a point when one could add three additional commentaries to a limited edition. Firstly, a very focused and MODERATED commentary with the Soskas discussing screen specific elements as they relate to both narrative and theme (and especially the feminist aspects of the picture). Secondly, a semi-eggheaded commentary from a film critic - not unlike those one finds on Criterion releases - would give viewers a "reading" on the film from the perspective of someone who watches movies in ways most viewers never do. It not only gives fans cool shit to mull over, but in its own way can contribute to a higher level of cinema appreciation and literacy - a movie like American Mary is not only deserving of such regard, but frankly, so are its fans. Thirdly, a focused and (again) MODERATED commentary with the Director of Photography, Production Designer and someone from the F/X team dealing specifically with the look of the film and how it relates specifically to story, character and theme would be an absolute-must for any American Mary added feature. Interestingly and in fairness to what already exists, this latter point is dealt with in both the "making of" and the current commentary, but the problem for me, is that I want more. The movie is so rich and layered in terms of its visuals that a solid, detailed discussion of them in a scene-specific setting would give fans, geeks and eggheads a veritable buffet.

As for added visual materials beyond the commentaries, I think specific mini-documentaries with detailed interviews would be the way to go here. They'd have to be conducted by someone who knew what they were doing and had a passion for both this film and cinema in general. The number of interesting topics to cover with American Mary feels almost infinite (which, by the way, is kind of my own yardstick for whether or not a movie will attain masterpiece status). The bottom line for such materials is that they actually have to be produced and directed by genuine filmmakers. Very few people in the world can do this properly, but they're out there and it has been done on a variety of great added bonus features - mostly via Criterion, but for a longtime on selected Universal and Warner Brothers DVD releases.

In any event, this current release of American Mary on Blu-Ray/DVD is a phenomenal must-own item. It's such a great picture that its fans will never feel ripped-off with the eventual availability of special limited additions (often referred to a double or multiple dipping). Besides, like I said earlier, it's too early in the lives of most films to create such materials - they're always better and more valuable when enough time has passed to let the film age like a fine wine.

And American Mary is nothing if not a fine wine - blood red, of course.
"American Mary" is now available on Blu-Ray and DVD via Anchor Bay Entertainment Limited. Below, you'll find a cut-and-paste of an earlier review of the film itself if you haven't read it yet.
American Mary (2012) ****
dir. Soska Twins: Jen Soska, Sylvia Soska
Starring: Katharine Isabelle, Tristan Risk, Antonio Cupo, David Lovgren

Review By Greg Klymkiw
(Note - Rewrite/Revision of an earlier piece)

The scalpel enters a full, fleshy breast and delicately, almost sensually circles the areola's entirety whilst blood oozes out, the surgeon's fingers gently tracing her handiwork.

Both nipples are eventually removed.

The next procedure involves surgically removing all physical receptors of pubic ecstasy and stitching shut the vagina of the aforementioned nipple-bereft body, save, of course, for the smallest allowable opening for the expulsion of urine.

The surgeon is spent, stunned, but satisfied - secure in the knowledge that her first stab (so to speak) at body modification is a success. The client eventually expresses sheer joy over her all-new sexually adhedonic state; how perfectly she's been able to fulfil her own personal essence of womanhood via the excision of those physical extremities which alternately offer enticement and pleasure. Whatever you say, babe. In the words of Marlo Thomas: "Free to be you and me."

Can movies possibly get any better than this?

No.


Well actually, I guess Psycho, Citizen Kane, Birth of a Nation, Bicycle Thieves and Nights of Cabiria might be slightly better,  but it doesn't change the fact that American Mary is a dazzlingly audacious sophomore effort from the Vancouver-based twisted twin sisters Jen and Sylvia Soska (who made a promising debut with their micro-budgeted 2009 effort Dead Hooker in a Trunk).

Videodrome, David Cronenberg's perversely creepy semi-precursor to the Soskas's new masterpiece-to-be, features the famous sentiment uttered by the Moses Znaimer-like character Max Renn (James Woods) that he must "leave the old flesh" in favour of the future. He intones ever-so scarily: "Long live the New Flesh!" Gotta love Cronenberg when he made some of the best horror movies on the planet, but we've got to call a spade a spade - he hasn't made a horror picture since Dead Ringers in 1988 and his recent output (Spider, A Dangerous Method and Cosmopolis) has been downright dreadful. There's a new marshall in town and the reigning royalty of Canadian Horror is not one, but TWO Soska sisters.

Leave the old flesh.

Long live the New Flesh!

With American Mary, the Twisted Twins are perched delightfully on (at least for some, if not many) shaky moral ground (and/or crack), but happily, they maintain the courage of their convictions and do not tread lightly upon it. There are no half-measures here to even attempt making the picture palatable to the gatekeepers of political correctness (those purported knot-headed pseudo-lefty Great Pretenders who reside just to the right of Mussolini, Stevie Harper or Mitt Romney - take your pick). I'd even vigorously argue that non-fascist PC-types (as opposed to the truly fascist PC-types who make most thinking people sick to their stomachs) will, in fact, find the picture more than palatable.

The rest of us (we're cooler and smarter than YOU!) will get it, groove on it and celebrate its excellence.

This movie is some mighty nasty stuff - replete with elements of slashing satire that hack away and eventually tear open "normally" accepted versions of right and wrong whilst grasping the exposed nerve endings of morality, holding them taught and playing the jangling buggers like violin strings. The picture will provoke, anger, disgust and scandalize a multitude of audiences, though chances are good that the most offended will be those "smugly fucklings" (phrase courtesy of the late, great CanLit genius Scott Symons), the aforementioned fascist PC-type poseurs who claim to be outside the mainstream, but have their noses deeper up the rectal canals of fascists than the bloody Tea Party.

Strange as this might seem, the picture comes from a place deep in the heart, so deep that the twins don't bother ripping the pulsating muscle out, but rather, invoke the spirit that lies dormant within to deliver a surprising level of humanity to the proceedings. As far as the picture's carnage takes us we're allowed, in more than one instance to even be moved by the plight of some of the characters.

The screenplay, written by the Soska twins, is - on its surface only - a rape-revenge fantasy, but it goes so much further than that. It's a vital examination of subcultures representing people disenfranchised from the aforementioned accepted standards of human existence. In a world increasingly aspiring to the living death of homogeneity (this includes those who purport to be untouched by homogeneity), the characters will never fit any mould that represents "normalcy", no matter how hard they try.

Within the world of the film, those who refuse to conform (not because it's "cool" to do so, but because they simply cannot conform) seek avenues that will fulfil their basic needs as human beings, no matter how strange or repellent a majority finds them.


The tale told involves Mary (Katharine Isabelle), a med student struggling under the crushing weight of ever-mounting debt and the constant psychological abuse from her mentor Dr. Grant (David Lovgren), the chief professor of surgery - a field of practice she longs to serve in. In desperation, Mary scours the "adult services" want ads and is drawn to one with keen interest. Under the cloak of night she arrives at a nondescript warehouse in an industrial park that emits the thumping bass of dance music, a neon sign promising sensual delights and a burly doorman who immediately allows her entrance - as he clearly does to any babe seeking admittance.

Mary meets with the charmingly sleazy proprietor Billy Barker (Antonio Cupo) who scoffs a bit when she hands him her resume. The only pre-requisites to work in his club are a good overall "package" (which he discovers after telling her to strip to her undies and show-off her gorgeous body), an ability to deliver a fine massage (as she ably proves with her nimble surgeon's fingers) and a willingness to suck him off with skill and abandon (which, she sadly never gets to do). The job interview is interrupted with news that all is not well in another part of the club. Knowing Mary is a med student specializing in surgery, Billy asks her to join him.

In a dank, dungeon-like room within the club's bowels, Mary's eyes widen at a gruesome sight - nothing to phase a surgeon, but the context would be, at least initially, pretty bizarre to anyone - even her. Whatever goes on in this room, has gone seriously awry and as luck would have it, Mary is just what the, shall we say, doctor, has ordered.

For a wad of pure, hard, cold cash - the likes of which she's never held in her hands, Mary agrees to perform some illicit surgical magic which will not only make a wrong right, but provide a much needed service beyond simple lifesaving. The subject, twitching and bleeding on the filthy table, will most definitely require saving, but the painful manner in which he will be saved will provide him with added ecstasy.

Soon Mary is in demand amongst the body modification subculture who troll about the same underbelly as those who work and patronize the club (in addition to the genuine underground activities involving extreme masochistic indulgence - no healthy, mutually consenting BDSM here - this is a place where people go to be maimed, hurt and tortured).

The other subculture portrayed is that of the surgeons themselves. The Soskas create a creepy old boys club where the power of slicing into live human beings has engendered a world of ritual abuse. In the worlds of body modification and masochistic gymnatics, the subjects are ASKING for it. Not so within the perverse world of the surgeons. They use psychological abuse to break down their victims, then administer kindness and fellowship to lure them, then once their quarry is in their clutches, they use deception of the most cowardly, heinous variety to fulfil their desire to inflict sexual domination.

The body modifiers and masochists are pussycats compared to the surgeons who are portrayed as little more than pure exploiters. Their air of respectability as healers and academia is the weapon they use to commit violence and perpetrate subjugation.

Someone's gonna pay. Bigtime.

So, I'm sure you've already gathered that American Mary is not (Thank Christ!) Forrest Gump. We're bathing in the cinematic blood spilled into the tub that is this movie by the insanely imaginative Soska Twins - clearly the spawn of Alejandro Jodorowsky and Elizabeth Bathory with, perhaps, some errant seed from Alfred Hitchcock or William Friedkin.

One of the extraordinary things about American Mary is that it dives headlong into a number of subcultures, which, even if they've been completely and utterly pulled out of the Soska Sisters' respective Autoroutes de Hershey, they feel like genuinely real worlds. The locations, production design, art direction, set dressing and costume design for the various interior and exterior settings look lived in and completely appropriate to the scenes in which they appear.

Even the curse of most lower-budgeted Canadian films - that notorious lack-of-dollars underpopulation - is not especially egregious as some Canuck pictures since many of the settings demand it, while others are appropriately framed (most of the time) to mask it. As well, the Soska Sisters generally have a good eye for composing shots that provide maximum dramatic impact and the lighting and cutting is always appropriate to the dramatic action rather than calling attention to itself.

The performances are generally first rate and the background performers always look 100% right for the scenes. The fine acting, coupled with a script packed with dialogue that's always in keeping with both character and milieu rather than going out of its way to be overtly clever, also contributes to the overall sense that we're wandering through very real, albeit completely, utterly insane worlds. This is also not to say the film is bereft of stylish visual touches, but they're again used for dramatic effect rather than the annoying curse so many younger filmmakers suffer when they abandon narrative (or even dream) logic to say, "Look Ma, I can use a dolly." And believe me, when a shot and/or cut NEEDS to knock the wind out of us, it happens with considerable aplomb.


What sells the film is the world the Soska Sisters create. It's seldom obvious and more often than not we believe it - or at least want to. In many ways, the film is similar to the great early work of Walter Hill (pretty much anything from The Warriors to Streets of Fire) wherein he created worlds that probably could ONLY exist on film, but within the context of the respective pictures, seldom felt less than "real". (That said, Hill was ALWAYS showy, but he knew how to make it intrinsic to the dramatic action.) This makes a lot of sense, since it always feels like the Soska Twins are making movies wherein those worlds that exist realistically on-screen, but furthermore evoke a feeling that the film has been wrought in a much different (and probably better) age than ours.

Dead Hooker in a Trunk and especially American Mary, seem to exist on a parallel plane to those halcyon days of 70s/80s edginess reflected in the Amos Poe New York "No Wave" - not to mention other counter culture types who straddled the underground and the mainstream - filmmakers like Scorsese, Rafelson, Waters, Jarmusch, et al who exploded well beyond the Jim Hoberman-coined "No Wave". Their work even approaches a bit of the 80s cult sensibilities of Repo Man, Liquid Sky or even such generational crossover titles as Eraserhead, Blue Velvet) and the deranged work of more contemporary directors like Eli Roth, Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino - all of whom "steal", to varying degrees, from earlier periods of film history, but use the work of previous Masters as a springboard to make the pictures all their own. (By the way, I'm not necessarily suggesting American Mary is culled from any of the aforementioned but rather, that the Soska Twins are clearly working in the same sort of exciting territory. It's especially dazzling when it's within a burgeoning stage of their development as film artists.)

The character of Mary, though, seems like she was born on the set of a 70s James Toback movie like Fingers or the Toback-penned Karel Reizs masterpiece The Gambler or yes, even Don Siegel's magnificent work of cold-cocking art Dirty Harry and though the decade was replete with male heroes of the anti-hero variety, the world just wasn't quite ready for a female heroine to embody the steely resolve of Harvey Keitel, James Caan and Clint Eastwood in the respective pictures. So somehow, Mary was transported in some kind of time machine into the minds of the Soska Twins (at the point of their conception) and spewed herself upon the pages of their script and into the body of Katharine Isabelle.

Well thank Christ for open portals in the time/space continuum - we now have a genuine horror hero who embodies all the anti-hero qualities of a 70s character and is 110% ALL WOMAN!!!


Katharine Isabelle as Dr. Mary has come long and far from her groundbreaking performance in the classic John Fawcett-Karen Walton werewolf picture Ginger Snaps. Here she delivers a courageous performance on a par with her turn as the cursed teen werewolf back in 2000. It's 12 years later and Isabelle has blossomed into a tremendously engaging screen personality. The camera might actually love her even more now that she's gained considerable physical maturity (and the Soska Twins have definitely used their four great eyes to work with their cinematographer Brian Pearson's additional two eyes to add to Isabelle's stunning, real-woman looks). This great actress's 12 years of toil in mainly television has given her a myriad of roles and experience, but in American Mary, her brave, deadpan (and often very funny) delivery blended with moments where the character is clearly repressing anything resembling emotion is the kind of thesping that demands more roles as terrific as this one. Please, get this woman out of Television Hell and put her on the big screen where she belongs.

The film also has a cornucopia of terrific supporting performances. Antonio Cupo as the sort-of male love interest is both sleazy and endearing (a pretty amazing double whammy). David Lovgren is suitably creepy and reptilian. Paula Lindberg as the nipple-extracted bombshell who also gets her vagina sewn shut and Tristan Risk (easily the best supporting work I saw from any actress in any movie in 2012) as the body modified dancer who promotes Mary's talents far and wide, both transcend the expert makeup effects to bring their respective characters' spirits beyond the almost freakish intensity of their body modifications.

And finally, no review of American Mary would be complete without a special nod to Nelson Wong who wins the alltime accolade for the scariest, creepiest, sickest, funniest rendering of a surgeon you hope NEVER to meet - even in your dreams.

American Mary is a true original. The Soska Twins have generated an utterly buoyant, crazed, thrilling and gob-smackingly brilliant motion picture experience. I expect - NO! I DEMAND! - one kick-ass devil-may-care rollercoaster ride through hell after another from the Soska Twins.

I'm waiting with baited breath. In the meantime, I'll be watching American Mary over and over and over again. I can't get enough of it.

"American Mary" is now available on Blu-Ray and DVD via Anchor Bay Entertainment Canada and Anchor Bay Entertainment Limited.

Sunday, 3 March 2013

CITADEL - A New In-Depth Review & Analysis written by Greg Klymkiw PLUS - Klymkiw Interviews CITADEL Writer-Director Ciarán Foy in Virginie Selavy's ultra-cool UK Film Mag "Electric Sheep - a deviant view of cinema" (links provided below).

Welcome to this special edition of the Greg Klymkiw Film Corner where I will be presenting an all-new in-depth review and analysis of Ciaran Foy's contemporary masterpiece of horror CITADEL. This article is a preview of a chapter I'm adding to my book about the visual techniques of cinematic storytelling. Entitled "Movies Are Action", my book has been a culmination of over 30 years in the movie business - producing and/or co-writing numerous independent features, seeing and studying over 30,000 motion pictures, covering cinema as a journalist in a wide variety of publications and teaching for 13 years at the Canadian Film Centre (founded by Norman Jewison) wherein I had the honour to serve as the producer-in-residence and senior creative consultant for over 200 screenwriters, directors, producers and editors. It's become very clear to me that Mr. Foy's astounding first feature film CITADEL is not only one terrific movie that introduces the world of cinema to a genuine original with filmmaking hard-wired into his DNA, but that his film can and should also serve as a template to all young filmmakers on the precipice of diving into the breach. It's lonely out there, kids, and there's nothing better than using such a mature, accomplished and extraordinary work by someone who is, for all intents and purposes, your peer. Here on this site, you'll be reading a reasonably polished first draft of the chapter to appear in my book, but I'm confident you'll find, thanks to Mr. Foy's great film, a few nuggets to take with you onto the battlefield. -- Greg Klymkiw

CITADEL (2012) ****
Dir. Ciarán Foy
A New Appreciation
By Greg Klymkiw

Single Dad With Agoraphobia. Crime. Poverty. Infection. CITADEL
Context is Everything: Big Screen Pictures on a Big Screen
I first saw Citadel, Ciarán Foy's contemporary masterpiece of horror, during the 2012 edition of the Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF), one of the most genial celebrations of genre cinema in the world. Blood geysers copiously from the screens at TADFF as both audiences and programmers take deliciously perverse delight in as much carnage wrought by filmmakers as is humanly possible.
But, it's not always about the blood. 
Every year, without fail, I discover one or two gems that scare the faecal matter out of me because they tap into quiet, creepy, subtle and intelligently rendered fears that haunt all of us. And though there will be blood in such pictures, it's meted out sparingly. Like, for example, Citadel. 
TADFF prides itself on presenting genre films designed for BIG-SCREEN THEATRICAL VIEWING, but due to the rather idiotic vagaries of an ever-changing landscape of big-box theatrical exhibition, far too many worthy movies are forced to bypass being exhibited the way movies are ultimately meant to be seen. Citadel , of course, demands a big screen. Thanks to festivals like TADFF, this is - however briefly - possible.

TADFF, like many good festivals, endeavours to present filmmakers in front of each film to introduce it and then to engage in a post-show Q and A. Mr. Foy had been tripping the festival light fantastic for quite some time and when TADFF rolled around, he was in the midst of writing his next feature film. Understandably, but alas, he was not available to attend. 
This was fine by me. I was pretty fucking shagged out from several days in a row of feasting my eyes on all manner of carnage and was in just the perfect mood to sit quietly in the cinema and see what I assumed would be another splatter-fest, but sans the usual raucous, celebratory shenanigans pervading screenings where filmmakers were in attendance. 
I sunk deeply into my front row seat. 
The lights dimmed.

My virginal plunge into Citadel began.

***************

The word "trinity" is derived from the Latin noun "trinitas" which is interpreted by Jesus-Believers as "three are one", though what it means literally is the number "three" (or "triad"). The Greek equivalent also means the number "three", or more literally, a set or grouping of three. In most Christian religions (save for some of the more fruit-cake offshoots - well, in fairness, those that are marginally nuttier than Catholicism), the trinity is recognized as The Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit (or my preference as a Ukrainian Eastern Rite Catholic - The Holy Ghost - YEAH!). And yes, indeed, when you see us wing-nutted Catholics (practising or lapsed) crossing ourselves, it is indeed our tribute to God the Father, Christ the Son and the Holy Ghost which is the collective essence of what we're honouring with our pagan ritual.

For me, trinity is a word I'm fond of using to describe elements of storytelling. An example of this comes from the idea that doing things in threes (or higher "odd" numbers) gives your story more bang for the buck. Got a running gag? Great. When a movie presents it twice or four times, it's usually not as effective as when it's rendered three (or five, or seven, or - God forbid - nine) times. Three, however, is a decent enough rule of thumb when crafting a story. A four-act story just doesn't seem to cut it. Tell it in three-acts (properly, mind you), then you're usually on-track.

Of course, trinity can also be played out as a symbolic and/or subtextual storytelling tool. However, it won't work if the storytelling overall is falling flat on its face. Using subtext under such circumstances becomes ham-fisted and pretentious - drawing us completely out of what narrative might remain. This, is never a problem in Citadel. Within both visual and narrative contexts, Foy's extraordinary tale is ultimately rooted deeply in the notion of "trinity", but on a subtextual level it's a visually powerful approach to cinematic storytelling - especially given the harrowing narrative he spins.

Because Foy builds "trinity" into both his narrative and visual design, it provides ample opportunities to tell the story with as many evocative qualities as possible. What separates the men from the boys, the women from the girls, the filmmakers with vision from the filmmakers who are little more than camera jockeys (the latter term applied to by-the-numbers TV drama directors), is the ability to dazzle us visually, but in a manner wherein the imagery doesn't overtake the narrative, but compliments it.

This works two-fold. First of all, it allows (and/or forces) the filmmaker with vision to integrate what I like to refer to (if you will), the visual subtext into the opening of the film - to establish the mise-en-scène, to provide gripping and visually arresting images to draw us into the narrative and to propel us ever-further into the events of the opening - to keep us guessing so we want more story information to answer our questions as to where the story is going and ultimately, to build an opening sequence that is going to knock us on our collective asses. Secondly, the integration of said visual subtext throughout the film shapes and hones the progression of dramatic sequences (and individual scenes) so that we get a series of almost epiphanous dollops of narrative zingers. These work to propel us even further towards the climax of the film and in so doing, provide exponential gains in terms of visceral responses to the narrative. This ultimately provides a climactic sequence that builds on the elements of the opening and delivers something that not only knocks us on our duffs, but slams us repeatedly with the force of a baseball bat every single time we attempt to get up. In Quentin Tarantino's honour, one could demurely refer to this storytelling technique as the "Bear Jew Triple-Ass Turnbuckle Trinity". But, let's not.

From the very beginning of his film, Foy bombards us with sets of three items of note within the images that are used to tell the story. And they are powerful images that build the narrative cinematically to always draw us forward. Given that Citadel is a horror film rooted in the theme of fear, images of trinity are especially salient. Our main character Tommy (Aneurin Barnard) witnesses (not just once, but twice), people he loves being snatched away from him. This set of tragedies manifests itself within Tommy as deep crippling agoraphobia and unless he's able to face his fear (a fear, I'd argue that is a fear of fear itself), he'll suffer a sickening third and maybe deadliest tragedy of all.

One of the first exposures to trinity is the "citadel" itself, a bleakly decrepit housing project with a centre tower as its bulwark and two smaller buildings flanking either side and set further back. Drably coloured grey cement, set against murky blueish-grey skies, it's a formidable and chilling image to dive into at the film's beginning. It stands like some crumbling urban architectural representation of Cavalry during Christ's crucifixion.

Bad Shit goes on in the projects - CITADEL

(Oh, and before you think I'm extolling some foul "God Squad" picture aimed to reel in Christian viewers, you'll see soon enough that Citadel is the complete antithesis to that horrendous genre.)

Now, once inside the Citadel, we're introduced to Apartment 111.

1+1+1=3 Trinity in the projects - CITADEL

Some activity on the other side of the door causes the middle number to become unhinged and flop down. Surely this can't be a good sign.

When Trinity is unhinged, we know shit's gonna happen - CITADEL   

When the door opens, we're introduced to a young couple who are preparing to leave the condemned housing project for a new life. And indeed, Foy reveals a literal new life - a child is clearly growing within the woman's belly. One can see immediately how such opening moments in the hands of a mere camera jockey could be rendered in a dull, by the numbers manner to give establishing information ONLY in a race to get to something suspensefully titillating. Such images would be a by-rote series of pure informational shots. Foy, however, delivers sheer, unadulterated suspense from the very beginning and places us firmly in a world that gets increasingly tossed on its noggin as the film progresses. All is rooted in character, narrative and theme. It also reveals a distinctive voice off the bat.

With his cinematographer Tim Fleming, production designer and art director Tom Sayer and Andy Thomson respectively, Foy serves up a sumptuous (and dramatically apt) look for the film, betraying its low budget nature so that the film's cost is not even a point to consider whilst watching it. This is not to say the "look" is picture-postcard in any way, shape or form. The look is instead one of unremitting bleakness, but it is rendered so expertly and artistically, that shot after shot reminds me of the constant refrain in W.B. Yeats' great poem "Easter, 1916" wherein he refers to the notion that "a terrible beauty is born." And so it is with the masterful look and direction of Citadel.

Too many contemporary films capture bleak imagery with slap-dash sloppiness, but Foy and his team deliver one clearly intentional shot after another that create an indelible and stunningly dichotomous "terrible beauty" that infuses the heart and soul of this film.

Note the lighting, design and composition of this shot as Tommy anxiously tries to get back to his pregnant wife in a grindingly slow elevator. Even though we've been given nothing overt to fear, everything leading up to and including this shot has been slowly keeping us on edge and with the camera rooted claustrophobically close (but not TOO close) and set effectively in what came to be Howard Hawks' almost-trademark eye-level positioning, we're plunged into Tommy's anxiety with the skill one would expect of a master team of filmmakers.

Have I mentioned yet how fucking extraordinary this film is?

Elevators in the projects are slow... and scary - CITADEL

With one salient exception (which, I'll not give away), Foy makes the wise decision to always stay in the sphere of his main character Tommy. Every shot is either WITH Tommy, from his POV or from an angle/perspective he'd be able to have a view of/from. Given that we're dealing with a film about fear and specifically, a horror film where an even bigger challenge than the "monster(s)" is overcoming agoraphobia, this is a perfect approach.

Some might argue it is an OBVIOUS approach as if "obvious" is a dirty word, but for my money it's only a verboten epithet if and when it's the only way to describe that which is mediocre and/or barely (or maddeningly) competent. I'm much happier when a filmmaker "idiot proofs" the work so the audience is not lost for too long without their questions and/or need for information being addressed - either directly, or indirectly with an even more delicious tidbit of information.

In creating a film narrative, the worst thing one can do is force the audience to ask questions which are not answered - especially when those questions are nagging at an audience to the point where they're pulled out of the story and subsequently miss out on even more story beats because the filmmaker was too stupid (and/or pretentious) to pinch a loaf or two that forces their viewers to be ruminating rather than paying attention. Where Foy takes leaps and bounds beyond most young filmmakers (and many old ones who should know better) is how he maintains his proximity to Tommy while also keeping to the subtext of trinity.

For example, once Tommy's elevator reaches the right floor, Foy serves up an incredibly simple, effective and chilling shot from Tommy's POV through the broken elevator doors. There's a creepy inevitability to the contents of the shot, yet you're still jangled into filling your drawers with some manner of unmentionable viscous-like matter.

In the following frame-capture, however, is the subtle use of trinity. On one side of the window is Tommy and on the other is his wife and unborn child. Sorry to sound like an egghead here, but bear with me, as this point has more to do with intelligent, personal filmmaking than anything artsy-fartsy. Masters, like Hitchcock or Spielberg or Friedkin, et al will either be consciously and/or instinctively be choosing to utilize visual motifs that tie into both the narrative and psychology of their films.

Here, the chain of trinity between Father, Mother and Child is broken by an elevator door that's mechanically broken. It's not JUST the sudden terror of Tommy struggling to re-connect this chain and restore balance by rescuing (or at least giving it the old college try), but that what he sees are three hooded figures - another form of trinity in the middleground - that have an upper hand, threatening those he loves (and by extension, himself). Finally, there's the trinity employed within the composition itself - the doors in the foreground, the hooded figures in the middle and Tommy's wife further back.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what the best filmmakers do.

A door that won't open. Three hooded figures. A Woman alone.  CITADEL

In the next two frame-captures we see Tommy in the bus shelter preparing to enter the bitter, cold, cruel world outside with the traditional manifestation of Trinity - he crosses himself.

In the Name of the Father, the Son and The Holy Ghost.

Great horror films in the western world often knew well enough to employ any number of Judeo-Christian images and rituals in an attempt to ward off evil. With increasing secularity in the world, contemporary horror films oft-abandon religion in both the passive form (as protection) and as purely aggressive weaponry (crosses thrust forward like swords against minions of the Devil or, in fact, the Devil himself). To the latter, none who see it, never, ever forget the image of trapping a vampire in the shadow of a windmill that projects the image of the crucifix upon the ground in Terence Fisher's extraordinary Brides of Dracula. Tommy's use of Old World Christian values here is a perfect element to weave into the narrative.

Lord (as He were) knows, William Friedkin's The Exorcist, the greatest horror film of all time is replete with mega-crucifix action. Not only that, it shares a wonderful thing with Citadel that all great horror films swap saliva over. In The Exorcist, Demon Pazuzu's shenanigans (which included grotesque head-spinning, crucifix-as-dildo-masturbatory-action and green pea vomit expulsion), were preceded by an hour of screen time devoted to the creepy and increasingly painful poking and prodding of the possessed 12-year-old girl by esteemed members of the medical profession. (God Bless the 70s - all the doctors smoke IN the fucking hospital, no less.) As realized by director William Friedkin, the cold and clinical approach to healing by inflicting the extremes of scientific exploration turn out to be equally harrowing as the grotesqueries of the Devil. Foy also plunges us into Tommy's illness with a similar realism. A wise move, indeed.

And with respect to the crucifix in The Exorcist, it's used by priests Max Von Sydow and Jason Miller to wear the Devil's minion down (Max believes, Miller less so). The cross ultimately turns out to be powerless and it's a Christ-like (Christ, the MAN) sacrifice on Jason Miller's part when he demands to be taken by the demon and then commits suicide to destroy the evil. Miller musters his strength of character and humanity to fight the evil.  Tommy's faith in God gets him by (just barely), but when push comes to shove he digs a lot deeper than adherence to New Testament fairy tales to survive.

Though it's partially a matter of interpretation, there are, I think, enough visual signs to suggest that Tommy had most probably eschewed any deep adherence to Christian values long ago, but that his use of them now comes out of a sense of desperation - a kind of unconscious placebo effect or, if you will, a perverse Pavlovian Dog instinct to use the Holy Trinity to temper fear in hopes that it will ward off danger.

Mind and body are finally more powerful allies than faith in the Holy Trinity.

FATHER. SON. HOLY GHOST.  CITADEL
FATHER. SON. HOLY GHOST.  CITADEL

Notice above the sheet of paper affixed to the bus shelter behind Tommy - a tried and true storytelling prop, but one that's often shoehorned in with a bludgeon to get information across or worse, especially in low budget affairs, so poorly designed that instead of assisting the narrative, the audience is taken out of the story. Timing is also important when using such props as a narrative tool.

Turning your attention to the frame-capture below you'll see a punch-in on the same sheet of paper, a notice for a missing child. This shot comes at a perfect point in Tommy's story. His wife has given birth, but remains in a coma and not only is Tommy faced with being a single Dad, his agoraphobia increases a thousand-fold. After all, he has a baby to raise and protect in this dystopian world.

... and children, you see, are going missing in the projects.

Desperate disenfranchised parents are posting such notices where they can. This is not only an effective "milk-carton-like" piece of story information, but note again, the "terrible beauty" of the composition of the shot and how exquisitely designed everything within the frame is - from the Missing Child notice to the smoky, smudged and scratched window of the bus shelter that, through the glass, reveals a somewhat misshapen landscape - bleak and despair ridden.

This is no world for humanity, let alone children.

In the projects, who can afford cartons of milk, anyway? CITADEL

Another superb approach to visual storytelling is on view within the frame-capture below. First of all, there's the big picture as it's one of the very few wide shots in the film to deliver a magnificent snapshot of where Tommy and his baby live. This, very ironically, is where he and his wife were on the verge of moving before the tragic events in the film's opening. The condemned three-tower housing project looming over everything, the row of natty ground floor low-income townhouses and the huge sign in the right foreground that extols the grand design of the local government are not only powerful pieces of story information, but add to the visual design of claustrophobia by creating an environment that feels like it's closing in and practically crushing poor Tommy.

Dwarfed by the oppressive forces of squalor and fear, hunched over (as is his wont) while pushing the baby carriage forward, he passes by an abandoned vehicle. Foy and his team deliver a magnificently composed shot that's both aesthetically pleasing in terms of the "terrible beauty", but also provide a superb sense of spatial geography. (AFTER you see the film on DVD or Blu-Ray, be sure to take a look at the Making-of supplement. This will give you a better idea of how brilliant Foy and his team of collaborators were in their clever design of these and other visual elements in the film.)

The second important element of this shot is to draw your attention to the importance of always knowing in advance what your visual beats are as a director. Knowing what they must be involves delivering prose in the script that paints pictures with words, designing storyboards to ensure that you as a director can piece every needed story-beat together and finally, in so doing, ensure there will be enough footage that will provide an editor with elements needed to breathe life into the film during the post-production process. Throughout the film, Foy and company deliver one maximum impact shot after another, thus allowing editors Tony Kearns and Jake Roberts to weave the magic they do throughout the film - delivering on creepy, elongated suspense that sometimes makes you feel you're being dragged over a bed of hot coals in ultra-slow-motion (yes, for me, this IS a compliment - think Don't Look Now or The Innocents) and when needed (and in blessed moderation) the kind of shock cuts that send you up and out of your seat as if some John Holmes-sized dildo unexpectedly rammed up your asshole (most definitely a compliment - of the highest order).


Hell, go ahead and marry the shot above with the shot below - we go from creepy to mega-creepy. As Tommy moves forward with trepidation, the view of him from within the twisted metal hulk gives a sense of the eyes on him AND MOST IMPORTANTLY HIS BABY!!! As mentioned above, we're always in Tommy's sphere, but often when we're not in his point of view, there's always a profound, creepy sense of eyes upon him - not only when he is alone, but even in seemingly benign moments, the camera oppressively shoves itself towards him and voyeuristically encroaches upon his space - whether it be a specific character's POV or not - all eyes, real and imagined, are on Tommy.

He is, after all, an agoraphobe.

LADIES & GENTS: ALL EYES ON THE AGORAPHOBE, PLEASE!  CITADEL

One of the most lovely touches in the narrative, is the introduction of the character Marie (the stunning and truly great actress Wunmi Mosaku), a kind-hearted nurse who offers support to Tommy in the same hospital his wife vegetates within.

When a genre film can be rooted in reality, it stands a good shot at immortality. When audiences can see aspects of their own lives (a la the aforementioned opening hour of The Exorcist), they respond more strongly to the material. In Citadel, it's the strong elements of humanity that contribute to scaring the fuck out of people.

Marie is an especially crucial character on a number of fronts, but for me, one of the most moving things to come from her is the observation that Tommy needs to express his love for the baby by communicating with it as if the child was, in fact, a person (which, obviously, it is). At the best of times, men often don't have natural communication proclivities when it comes to babies. Speaking for myself, I had to be reminded by virtually everyone I knew that instead of referring to my infant by her name, I kept referring to her as "the child". Ah well, chalk that up to my being infused with barbaric Cossack DNA.

Tommy is not, however, experiencing the best of times. (An understatement if there ever was one.) Marie's careful, gentle observations and prompting are exactly what spins a perfect narrative turn in the story. For the first time, Tommy holds his child and communicates to it with love and humanity, not fear. The frame below captures a sequence that is designed to both move you, but to also add a new layer to Tommy's character that assists him with moving forward - especially since the most horrible events occur soon after.

Let me again stress - Horrible Events.

Plural.

Note to Hollywood and casting agents the world over: The camera loves Wunmi Mosaku (above right) and she is an extraordinary actress. Someone please make this lady from CITADEL a star.

The screen capture below allows for added discussion on the issue of faith in God. Pictured in the foreground is a distressed Tommy. Way in the background are hordes of bloodthirsty feral kids and in the centre is The Good Father (a sterling performance from the great James Cosmo). The Father is the unlikeliest man of the cloth; he'll go through the motions of reading over the graves of those who are being decimated by crime and rampant infection within the projects, he charitably rescues a young orphan from the citadel and he'll wear his clerical collar when it's necessary for those who believe. His belief system, however, has been shattered. He is hell-bent on destroying the evil residing in the projects - even if it means killing them in cold blood. In the scene below, he's agreed to help Tommy out, but warns him that faith in the rubbish that is Christ won't go as far as faith in oneself.

As bloodthirsty feral children begin streaming from the CITADEL, Tommy is cautioned by the Good Father that faith in God is rubbish. He'll need faith in himself to overcome a greater evil than what lurks in the shadows, his fear.
Citadel resembles Val Lewton's approach to fantastical genres that began in the 1940s American studio system. This brand of cinematic horror, exclusive to RKO Studios is inspired by a myriad of artistic influences from fairy tale through to classical literature, with much of it based on European sources and drenched in film-noir-like shadows and darkness. (Lewton believed that what scared people most were the everyday things that caused many people distress and secondly, the DARK.)

The two back-to-back images below represent the opening frame and closing frame of an exquisitely lit and perfectly composed push-in on Tommy's face. It's simple, yet so effective and most of all, enshrouded in the darkness and shadows of the place he fears most. Like the Lewton pictures (a huge influence upon the best of the best, like Friedkin, Scorsese, etc. and the art of cinema itself) this an example of how Citadel takes us from one manner of fear to another. Throughout most of the picture, Tommy deals with his fears by surrounding himself in the light of day and/or the interior light of his home. The film's final third has Tommy plunged almost completely into darkness - the final bastion to conquer both the pervasive and very real object of terror. And given the final frame below, you can bet your entire stake that the very next frame will be the sweetest of sweet spots chosen by the film's editors to jolt you with the reality of what Tommy witnesses. (And a shot that probably demands you wear a pair of Depends when you see the film.)

Any guesses what the next shot will be? CITADEL
We are living in dangerous days. It's no secret that the gap between rich and poor is ever-widening. Our streets are over-burdened with poverty and the denizens of the gap's debilitating, soul-draining effects have become completely disenfranchised from society. The cruelty with which they are despised is overshadowed only by how they are ignored. Their fears are many, but sadly I suspect their greatest fear is to be forgotten.

Citadel is indeed an important film on many artistic levels outlined above (and in other writings by myself and others). However, its primary importance is that within the context of genre (which has the power to reach huge audiences and young ones), the movie seriously (and, all importantly - entertainingly) addresses, head-on, the horror facing many of us.

While many begin their lives in a state of disenfranchisement and seldom escape,  others have never known the meaning of the word until the rug was pulled from under them due to the increase in downsizing, the insidious magnetic pull of consumerism, the equally spurious lustre of debt and last, but not least, the lack of political will that's been mostly bought off by corporate interests that use government as its puppet to increase profits at the expense of everyone but themselves. Even those few politicians who might have genuinely made a difference were assassinated and in this day and age, unless the powers-that-be want to send a statement using public assassination, kill our best and brightest leaders with secret and nefariously-inflicted "infections".

Then, there is the culling.

The richest, most powerful men in the word clearly want to siphon as much wealth and power as they can, but even now, they are engaged in advocating and downright supporting massive forced sterilization (sometimes right up front and others more subtle, like the new x-ray technology at any number of security checkpoints) in addition to outright murder (spurious "wars" against terror, getting government to approve deadly products like aspartame, fluoride and ANYTHING ingested from sources like Monsanto, Dole and other corporate food entities).

Ted Turner (and he's sadly not alone - yes, YOU Bill Gates and all the rest of this foul ilk) has stated (and defended and reiterated) the following sentiment:



"Right now there are just way too many people on the planet. A total world population of 250-300 million people, a 95% decline from present levels would be ideal."


Citadel is set in a dystopian world, but there's little that's futuristic about it. The movie feels like it's set "ten seconds into the future" (to coin a tagline from City of Dark, a Bruno Lazaro Pacheco film I produced). One gets the sense that the housing projects Foy's film is set in are but the tip of the iceberg in the larger world of the film. The streets are deserted - not because it's a low-budget movie and not because the majority of the populace in the film are too scared to be on the streets - but because there is an "infection".

A culling.

"Infections" (Ebola, AIDS, SARS, the list goes on and on) are here and now. They kill people. We can fool ourselves into believing they're "natural", but to cull such wide swaths of humanity is a multi-pronged approach.

The results of the 'infection" in Citadel are devastating. It kills adults and children alike, but the latter are often susceptible to living - in a living hell - blind (except to fear), bloodthirsty, savage and feral. If there's a cure, nobody is chomping at the bit to find it.

Though (as pictured below), trinity, however briefly, seems restored to Tommy, accompanied as he is by the young rescued feral kid and baby. What awaits them is a light at the end of the tunnel, but getting there might well prove deadly. And even if they do reach the light, what will they be facing?

It's a bit like life as it is now, and seemingly forever in this age of suffering and collapse. Agoraphobia is a very real and debilitating sickness, but I can't help think that it works within the film as a larger metaphor to expose the potential of a mass agoraphobic reaction to the beleaguering attacks upon those who are described by George Bailey (James Stewart) in Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life as all those in this world "who do most of the working and paying and living and dying" in it.

Yes, Citadel is ultimately a film infused with humanity and it seems appropriate that the movie reminds me of George Bailey's full speech to the corporate pig Mr. Potter (Lionel Barrymore) during a point when Bailey's levels of courage are at their highest and before, like Tommy, when they crash to their lowest point and an angel named Clarence (Henry Travers) shows up, much like the Good Father in Citadel, to infuse him with the power he needs to fight his greatest and most debilitating fears:
Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you're talking about... they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath? Anyway, my father didn't think so. People were human beings to him. But to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they're cattle. Well in my book, my father died a much richer man than you'll ever be!

Ciaran Foy has made a great film. Those who see Citadel will also be much richer for doing so.


Trinity, now restored. Will it survive the light at the end of the tunnel that is CITADEL

Please read my interview with writer-director Ciaran Foy in Virginie Selavy's ultra-cool UK Film Magazine "Electric Sheep - a deviant view of cinema". And whatever you do, buy this movie, study it and cherish it. You'll be getting a ground-floor glimpse into the work of a director who we'll be hearing from for years to come. In the USA, Citadel is distributed by New Video Group, in Canada by Mongrel Media and in the UK by the Revolver Entertainment Group.

Thursday, 6 December 2012

Greg Klymkiw's SAVAGE 7 - THE BEST HORROR, SCIENCE FICTION and FANTASY FILMS of 2012 (in glorious alphabetical order)

Greg Klymkiw's SAVAGE 7 - THE BEST HORROR, SCIENCE FICTION and FANTASY FILMS of 2012 (in glorious alphabetical order)
American Mary **** (2012)
dir. Jen Soska, Sylvia Soska
American Mary is a dazzlingly audacious sophomore effort from the Vancouver-based twisted twin sisters Jen and Sylvia Soska. It's essentially a rape-revenge fantasy involving a young surgeon who becomes involved in the dark underground world of body modification. As her butchery improves with each subject, she is eventually ready to ply her skill upon her abuser, a senior surgeon whose air of respectability as a healer and academic is the weapon he uses to commit sexual violence. Watch out! Someone's gonna pay. Big time. It's Tod Browning meets early David Cronenberg with a decidedly feminist and feminine slant, as well as a genuine respect, understanding and compassion for those who MUST be different.

Beyond The Black Rainbow (2012) **** dir. Panos Cosmatos
Beyond The Black Rainbow is a 70s/80s-style "head" film that has "cult" emblazoned upon its celluloid forehead. Blessed with a cool score/soundscape as well as an imaginative production design, the movie is replete with a delicious combination of creepy psychiatric experimentation sequences, dollops of shockingly grotesque bloodletting and several dreamscape montages that are trippy to say the least. For me, I got way more bang for my buck out of this modestly budgeted SF-Horror whacko-fest than Sir Ridley's plodding mess Prometheus. I suspect, that like most cult items, Cosmatos's juicy mind-fuck might take some shelf life for the devotion his movie deserves to be fully discovered. In the meantime, fire up a fat doobie and enjoy!

The Chernobyl Diaries (2012) dir. Bradley Parker ***
Young Americans in Ukraine indulge themselves in a bit of extreme tourism and visit the abandoned city overlooking the site of the tragic Chornobyl nuclear meltdown. Things get a bit more extreme than anyone bargained for. Wandering through the deserted disaster area, weird noises puncture the eerie silence and eventually La Turistas are besieged by hungry, radiation-crazed bears, dogs, wolves and ceolocanth-piranha-like fish. When their tour guide's van won't start, darkness descends upon the city. It appears there are other creatures to contend with. As they must, and because it's a horror film, our motley crew ventures into the darkness of the city. Where there is radiation, there will be MUTANTS!!! Where there are mutants, carnage will follow.

The Cabin in the Woods (2012) dir. Drew Goddard ***1/2
The Cabin in the Woods is a genre-geek's wet-dream, so set a spell, take a load off and leave your brain home. You won't need any grey matter for The Cabin in the Woods anyway. As moronic, derivative and plot-hole-ridden as the picture is, there are enough genuine surprises and a couple of truly breathtakingly inventive horror set pieces, that by the end, you'll be giddily satisfied. Five college kids - two hunks, two babes and one doper dweeb - hop into an RV and head into back country. Upon reaching their destination, they engage in the usual shenanigans that Hollywood-types assume young people do and before you can say: "Sam Raimi", a whole mess of slavering, rotting, bloodthirsty undead come crawling out of the soil. Thankfully what awaits is a whole lot more horrifying.

Citadel (2012) ****
dir. Ciaran Foy
Citadel is, first and foremost, a film about crashing, numbing, unrelenting fear. It is a palpable fear that's brought on when the film's young protagonist watches - not once, but twice - as those he loves are brutalized and/or snatched away from him. His fear intensifies so unremittingly, with such grim realism, that we're placed directly in the eye of the storm that is his constant state of terror. Even scarier is his struggle to instil enough courage to face the evil. Director Foy jangles our nerves with the panache of a master. His movie will scare the living bejesus out of you. The mise-en-scene is dazzling and the tale is rooted in both a humanity and reality that will smack close to home for many. Its dystopian world of fear, crime, poverty, filth and despair are enough to chill you to the bone, but we're not let off that easy. There is, you see, an infection. Oh yes, an infection, and one that leads to a heart-stopping, scream-inducing, drawer-filling and flat-out dizzying, jack-hammeringly appalling climax of pure, sickening, unadulterated terror.

John Carter (2012) dir. Andrew Stanton ***1/2
When I do the math that counts, I add up the following John Carter attributes:
A handsome, stalwart hunk hero. A major league babe. Noble allies for the hunkster and babe to right wrongs. Great villains. An overall mise-en-scene that captures the SPIRIT of the late, great, original author Edgar Rice Burroughs ("Tarzan of the Apes") whose book ("Princess of Mars") the film is based upon. Eye-popping special effects (that work just as well in 2-D as they do in 3-D, the latter process being one I normally can't stand). Cool aliens. Cool sets. Cool spaceships. Monsters. Yes, monsters. Cool monsters, at that. An astounding slaves-in-an-arena-fighting-aforementioned-monsters scene. A rip-snorting battle sequence. Have I mentioned the babe, yet? The sum total of the above is that director Andrew (Finding Nemo, WALL-E) Stanton's big screen version of Burroughs's first John Carter novel is a total blast.

[REC]3: Genesis (2012) dir. Paco Plaza ***1/2
Buoyed by a clutch of terrific acting, superb effects and some delicious shocks, [Rec3] delivers the goods and then some. Most of all, though, what sells [Rec]3 is the notion that Hell hath no fury like a woman whose fairy-tale wedding is transformed into a Grimm Brothers fairy tale. Her white dress spattered with blood, her gamin visage transformed from joy to almost malevolent strictures, her train torn away to reveal her hot gams and armed with one motherfucker of a chainsaw, one only wonders who in their right mind would not be thrilled at the site of this sexy senorita cutting, slashing and maiming her way through one living dead wedding guest after another?