LLOYD THE CONQUEROR - Review By Greg Klymkiw

Mike Smith (right, above psycho with pig-like Vulcan ears) is no mere Trailer Park Boy, he's the funniest man in Canada. Brian Posehn (left) is no mere Brian Spukowski on The Sarah Silverman Show, he's just as funny as she is and sexier.  Harland Williams (loser with pig-like Vulcan ears on bottom right) is no mere Sheridan College dropout, he is Dumb and Dumber's pee drinking cop. These three giants of the motion picture industry can now be seen together - inspiring copious gushing geysers of spontaneous urination in all who bear witness to their genius in the otherwise mediocre Canuckian comedy effort Lloyd the Conqueror.

Lloyd the Conqueror (2012) ** + 1 Pubic Hair
dir. Michael Peterson
Starring: Mike Smith, Brian Posehn, Evan Williams,
Jesse Reid, Scott Patey, Tegan Moss, Harland Williams

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Damn, I wanted to like this movie. Who wouldn't? It's got a Holy Fucking Trinity of some of the best funny guys in the business (Mike Smith, Brian Posehn and Harland Williams) portraying 40-something losers (actually, mind-blowingly humungous losers) who devote all their off-time (and much of their "on-time", if you can call it that) to the inexplicably obsessive world of role-playing games.

We're not talking about the losers who stay at home glued to their monitors - pretending to be fairy kings, stout-hearted dwarves and bearded fucking wizards in a virtual world.

Nay, these are losers who don costumes (sort of like those maroons who show up to movie premieres as Vulcans, Wookies and fucking Gandalf) and engage in real-life jousts and tournaments in the great outdoors.

If Lloyd the Conqueror had stuck to THESE guys instead of the utterly unentertaining early 20-something losers who lead the film's narrative charge, then it might have had a hope in Hell of being some kind of comedy classic. (It sometimes feels like the filmmakers might have discovered this in the edit room, too. It's uncanny how the movie soars when Smith, Posehn and Williams are onscreen. It might have been best to snip away as much of the uncharismatic purported leads as possible and use every available frame of this Trio of merry mirth makers. The movie feels about 15 minutes too long anyway, so it wouldn't have hurt at all.)

Alas, the movie is little more than a tedious, overlong and (often) unfunny comedy. I was happy to forgive the perfunctory plot this type of movie usually has. In fact, it doesn't get more perfunctory than this: Focusing upon three online gamers who are threatened with a low GPA and the loss of their student loans at College, get a chance to boost their academic standing by participating in actual role play battle in the flesh with their nasty, prissy, grade-lowering Medieval Literature professor (Mike Smith in a nice rival to his role as "Bubbles" on Trailer Park Boys).

SIDENOTE: I also learned something new here. I had no idea colleges offered courses requiring anything resembling reading as I always assumed these institutions were a last resort for the academically challenged on both the student and faculty end of things. Yeah, yeah. So sue me. I'm a fucking snob.

What I was not able to forgive was the woefully dull and virtually interchangeable characters who are forced into this predicament, as well, sadly, as the screen-presence-bereft young actors who played these roles. (In fairness, I'm sure all three of these young thespians are imbued with talent, but I must reiterate that the writing of the characters they play does neither them nor the film any favours.) What films like this need are vibrant characters played by bigger-than-life talents - think "Bill and Ted" (Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter), Wayne's World (Mike Myers and Dana Carvey) or "Harold and Kumar" (John Cho and Kal Penn).

Canada is certainly not without any number of great young actors with the comic chops of the above (Hell, a couple of the above-named ARE Canadian), BUT, the roles themselves in Lloyd the Conqueror needed to be written with the same panache that co-writers Andrew Herman and Michael Peterson invested in the roles played by Mike Smith, Brian Posehn and Harland (I wanna keep changing his surname to "Sanders") Williams. Stalwart supporting performers need lead performers who can blow them off the screen or at least hold their own. (Jesus Christ, think Max "fucking" Von Sydow going head to head with Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas in Strange Brew and you know what I'm talking about here.)

My dream cast for this movie would have been Canadian funny guys who are a bit long-in-tooth for the roles of the three young losers - imagine Jacob Tierney, Dov Tiefenbach, Jay Baruchel or hell, maybe even Don McKellar as a perennial student who just keeps taking college courses to get student loans. That's not only closer to what the film needed, but even thinking about first-rate talent like that might have inspired better writing for the three roles of the youthful "heroes".

Some might say, oh, but this is a low-budget Canadian film. Don't be so mean, Greg. Don't be so picky. It's Canadian. It's low budget. They tried really hard.

So fucking what?

Being Canadian and low-budget means the movie has to reach for the stratosphere, not the tip of the old landfill site in Winnipeg (which is the highest topographical point in that flat, godforsaken city of my youth).

All this said, I can still guarantee you the pleasure of soiling yourself whenever Mike Smith, Brian Posehn and Harland Sanders (Williams) are on screen.

These guys are the real thing and, good goddamn (!) they are funny.

"Lloyd the Conqueror" is in limited theatrical release across Canada. In Toronto it's playing at one of my favourite venues, The Magic Lantern Carlton Cinemas (they have the best cheap Tuesday prices in town, so I suggest you see the movie then). Thanks to Smith, Posehn and Williams you'll be afforded a delectable Walmart Rollback admission price to soil your panties.

CITADEL - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Brilliant, Terrifying First Feature Opens Theatrically in Canada via Mongrel Media

CITADEL: The fears of the disenfranchised (which indeed could be all our fears) drive this creepy and terrifying dystopian shocker .

Citadel (2012) ****
dir. Ciaran Foy
Starring: Aneurin Barnard, Wunmi Mosaku, James Cosmo, Jake Wilson

Review By Greg Klymkiw

I always wondered if I would be able to offer safety and protection to those I love if confronted with the need to choose physical violence. Being an ex-cop/ex-athlete's son, I received plenty of dirty pugilistic tactics in those halcyon days when folks didn't bat an eye over playground scuffles. I eventually put Dad's counsel to use on a particularly vile bully. It worked so well that my opponent's face was exquisitely rearranged and from that point on, nobody, I mean NOBODY, ever bothered me again. I knew I was able to employ similar techniques if it ever happened again and went through life with no worries. But that's ME. What could/would happen if I needed to protect someone else? Could/would I be able to do it again? Would it be different? Worse yet, what if I was not able to deliver the goods? That's very scary. That, I can assure you.

This is a key element permeating Ciaran Foy's stunning feature film Citadel.

READ MY FULL REVIEW PUBLISHED DURING THE TORONTO AFTER DARK FILM FESTIVAL 2012 HERE

3 SUPERB SHORT FILMS at the TORONTO AFTER DARK FILM FESTIVAL (2012) - Review By Greg Klymkiw - THE CAPTURED BIRD, FROST and CHILDREN OF THE DARK

Children of the Dark, one of 3 SUPERB SHORT FILMS at THE TORONTO AFTER DARK FILM FESTIVAL 2012Reviewed By Greg Klymkiw

The Captured Bird (2012) ***
dir. Jovanka Vuckovic

Review By Greg Klymkiw

This high profile short,the directorial debut of “Rue Morgue” magazine’s former kick-butt editor Jovanka Vuckovic, features magnificent special effects from ace animatronics effects designer/supervisor Paul Jones (Silent Hill, INVASION [AKA Top of the Food Chain], Resident Evil: Apocalypse, Afterlife and Retribution) and brilliant cinematography by Karim Hussein (Subconscious Cruelty, Hobo With A Shotgun and Antiviral), Vuckovic delivers a delicious bonbon du cinema in spades. This grotesque taste-treat wherein a little girl's chalk drawing opens a door into a world of horrifying creatures suggests we can look forward to more chilling work from the clearly talented Vuckovic ("Rue Morgue's" loss, but in an odd way, their gain, since they'll have plenty of output from their former editor to actually write about over the next few decades.)

Frost (2012) ***
dir. Jeremy Ball

Review By Greg Klymkiw

A fine Canadian short drama directed by Jeremy Ball that expertly tells a haunting, mysterious tale against the backdrop of Canada's northern aboriginal peoples. This story of a young woman confronting a terrifying spiritual presence linked to her ancestry is blessed with a subtle apocalyptic subtext as well as narrative elements dealing with both quest and familial acceptance. It's super creepy AND it's actually ABOUT something - both of which go a long way to remove the ever-so faint whiff of "calling card" that wafts gently from it.

Children of the Dark (2012) ****
dir. Scott Belyea

Review By Greg Klymkiw

WOW! This is a deeply moving post-apocalyptic thriller with superb production value, gorgeous photography and the most impressive mise-en-scene I've encountered in a genre short in some time. Programmed at Toronto After Dark to precede the feature film Citadel, I somehow repressed the idea I was watching a short film and actually thought I was seeing Ciaran Foy's film. When Children of the Dark drew to its haunting, breathtaking close I was gobsmacked. I was so into the emotional layers of this movie - it's genuinely more mature than many genre shorts (and features for that matter) - that I was mildly disappointed it had to end. Exploring a world gone awry through the eyes of children can so easily fall into cliche. Belyea's film doesn't at all. It's mixture of that which is horrifying, sad and deeply truthful. It even suggests we might eventually see a feature from this filmmaker that is imbued with the qualities of Spielberg's Empire of the Sun, Rene Clement's Forbidden Games or Louis Malle's Au Revoir Les Enfants. A tall order, but this short is THAT terrific. Whether in wartime or a dystopian near-future, the role of children is one that requires taste, delicacy and an unerring eye for human behaviour. If children are our hope amidst a world without any shred of it, then their stories must retain humanism without sliding into soap opera. In fact, their desire for hope and connection, as exemplified in Belyea's work, does that astounding double duty of being as profoundly moving as it is deeply, disturbingly dark. By the way, though disappointed it was over when it was, I must stress that the short has a perfect ending. It's certainly not the filmmaker's fault that his movie was so good I forgot where I was while watching it. Happily, Citadel proved to be a contemporary masterpiece. Belyea's short, in retrospect and within the context of Citadel, also provided a great evening at the movies - a great appetizer to the main course.(And dessert, available, at the TAD pub night afterwards.) Perfect short. Perfect feature. Perfect programming. Perfect festival. Bravo all round!

UNIVERSAL SOLDIER: DAY OF RECKONING - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012)

WTF!!! Is it possible - even remotely - for a movie called "UNIVERSAL SOLDIER: DAY OF RECKONING" to actually be… uh, well, uh… good? Maybe even, like, a bit… uh, better ? Than good? Another WTF: Dolph Lundgren is, uh, great in this picture! No, really. Genuinely great! Yeah. Dolph Lundgren. No kidding. He's WTF-ing amazing!

Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning (2012)  *** + 1 Pubic Hair
dir. John Hyams
Starring: Jean-Claude Van Damme, Dolph Lundgren, Scott Adkins, Andrei "The Pitbull" Arlovski

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Let's imagine a slightly different career trajectory for David Lynch. Supposing Lynch, after making Eraserhead, was NOT approached by Mel Brooks to make the moving and harrowing The Elephant Man. Let's imagine he was instead approached by Golan-Globus to direct an action picture. If this had happened, I suspect it might have been a lot like Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning.

As directed by John Hyams (son of stalwart hack Peter Hyams, director of a crapload of super-entertaining movies like Outland, Capricorn One and my personal favourite, The Relic), this fourth official instalment in the action early 90s franchise is completely and utterly insane. First unleashed in 1992 by Roland (he of little brain, but occasional filmmaking chutzpah like Independence Day) Emmerich, Universal Soldier was an idiotic, but supremely well made and entertaining SF action thriller featuring an army of killing machines who died in battle, but were revived almost Frankenstein-like to kick mega-butt. I can only vaguely remember the picture other than the fact that I'm pretty sure I enjoyed it.

Watching this John Hyams reboot, I have to admit my memories of Emmerich's original film became even more vague. This is the reboot to end all reboots. It's that good! (And don't ask me about the sequels, because I can't even remember if I saw them or not and I'm too lazy to check my archives.)

Here, Hyams introduces a fresh Universal Soldier played by Scott Adkins. Forced to witness the execution of his wife and child he's beaten so severely that he spends several weeks in a coma. When he comes to, all he can remember is the tragic occurrence and believe you me, he is hell bent on revenge.

Continually haunted and taunted by the face of his family's killer, Adkins embarks upon an odyssey of payback. He's pursued by the killer and pretty much everyone else who has a speaking part in the movie.

A parallel story, involving Jean-Claude Van Damme and Dolph Lundgren deals with the fascistic efforts of the universal soldiers to create their own self-ruled para-military elite. Lundgren, now craggy faced and lined with age, is an especially zealous orator and we're blessed with a few moments where Hyams shoots him a la Riefenstahl's cinematic deification of Hitler in Triumph of the Will (and which Roger Corman aped brilliantly when he focused upon William Shatner's white supremacist in 1962's The Intruder).

We're murkily, but mysteriously yanked in and out of scenarios that may or may not be dreams and all throughout, we are treated to one magnificent action set piece after another.

Hyams breathlessly directs the action with the assured hand of a master - no mere competent hack, Hyams seems poised to become a huge international talent. The choreography, the fine sense of geography, his faith in nicely composed shots that hold long enough to deliver vital story information (as each shot is a genuine dramatic beat) and to allow full, clear exploitation of the carnage all contribute to the impression that he's the real thing and then some.

The movie keeps slipping in and out of the brain damage suffered by Adkins character and at times we're plunged into a crazed borderline nightmare-scape reminiscent of the kind Lynch crafted in so many films from Blue Velvet to Mulholland Drive. As well, Hyams's application of a vaguely Bunuelian mise-en-scene is what aims this instalment of Universal Soldier into a whole new and exciting direction.

The bottom line is this - Hyams has crafted one of the most bravura action pictures of the year and if the narrative is ultimately less complex and/or even clear than it should be, Hyams's directorial aplomb covers all that up very nicely.

Most of all, though, with this picture and his work in the new Expendables action franchise, Dolph Lundgren seems to have come nicely into his own after so many roles in so many ho-hum action pictures. There's a lot to be said for getting old in all the right ways. Somehow, the hard miles etched onto his mug and a renewed spark in his line delivery makes Lundgren an exciting NEW force to be reckoned with.

"Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning" was unleashed at the Toronto After Dark Film Festival 2012. Visit the website HERE.

CITADEL - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012)

CITADEL: The fears of the disenfranchised (which indeed could be all our fears) drive this creepy and terrifying dystopian shocker .

Citadel (2012) ****
dir. Ciaran Foy
Starring: Aneurin Barnard, Wunmi Mosaku, James Cosmo, Jake Wilson

Review By Greg Klymkiw

I always wondered if I would be able to offer safety and protection to those I love if confronted with the need to choose physical violence. Being an ex-cop/ex-athlete's son, I received plenty of dirty pugilistic tactics in those halcyon days when folks didn't bat an eye over playground scuffles. I eventually put Dad's counsel to use on a particularly vile bully. It worked so well that my opponent's face was exquisitely rearranged and from that point on, nobody, I mean NOBODY, ever bothered me again. I knew I was able to employ similar techniques if it ever happened again and went through life with no worries. But that's ME. What could/would happen if I needed to protect someone else? Could/would I be able to do it again? Would it be different? Worse yet, what if I was not able to deliver the goods? That's very scary. That, I can assure you.

This is a key element permeating Ciaran Foy's stunning feature film Citadel.

As an adult, I encountered an especially dangerous situation. Some time ago, after an extended sojourn across the Atlantic, I returned to discover my apartment had been burgled. It was an easy place to burgle, but unexpected since my beloved and I lived in a "protected" building. Bikers and dealers lived there and as such, was one of the safest places for anyone to live (save for the potential of being caught in crossfire which, thankfully, never happened).

But, burgled we most certainly were. The immediate concern was twofold. Whoever did it wasn't especially concerned about the "protected" aspect of the building and might well have been completely insane (we lived round the corner from an outpatient clinic specializing in emotionally-challenged mental defectives) or worse, the perp was a junkie (most of whom wouldn't be desperate enough to hit a "protected" domicile). This was someone who simply didn't give a rat's ass. They must be feared at all costs. One must be prepared to do whatever it takes to stop them in their tracks.

Secondly, I was sure the psycho would return.

Each night I'd rest easy with a baseball bat beside me and sure enough, soon after the burglary and in the pitch of black, I heard a huge crashing sound. Lo and behold, a dark figure stood at the foot of the bed. Springing into action, I grabbed the bat and threatened to crush the whacko's noggin like a watermelon. As quickly as he appeared, he disappeared.

A funny thing happened after this incident. My initial exhilaration immediately transformed into complete and total terror when thoughts of what could have happened had I remained asleep or if, God forbid I tussled with the fucker and screwed up. And here's the rub - my fear had nothing to do with what could have happened to me. It had everything to do with what might have happened to my wife. Scenarios danced through my brain and I became so paralyzed with fear that I insisted we move in with friends until we could pack up and move as pronto as possible.

The worry and fear I experienced over this has only multiplied exponentially now that I'm a father. Could I? Would I? Damn straight! I'd be a take-no-prisoners pit bull if either my wife or daughter needed my protection. No fear in that at all. It's the other fear, the one that cuts deep. That's the fear none of us want to feel.

The greatest fear, they say, is fear itself and now, my fear boils down to this: What if I failed to protect? What would the consequences be? Not to me, per se - I don't give a shit about ME, I care only about protecting those I love.

How would this fear transform itself in the aftermath of FAILURE to deliver protection?

These are very real things we all, to varying degrees, must deal with.

They also happen to be the very things that drive Citadel, one of the best films of the year.

Cinema, and in particular those films which are rooted in genre can actually work as first-rate entertainment or top-drawer roller coaster rides, but are magnified a thousandfold when they're rooted in themes and actions that come from very real places. This is something that Val Lewton knew very well. He was the first person within Hollywood's mainstream studio system to tell real stories, about real people with real fears - all against the backdrop of genre pictures designed to bring much-needed returns into a near-bankrupt studio.

This bold move on Lewton's part changed genre films forever. He was the great 40s producer who ran RKO's horror division in the wake of two debilitating financial disasters (surprisingly, Citizen Kane and The Magnificent Andersons), but he did it in ways that his bosses and the rest of the industry would have been appalled by - if they actually realized what he was doing and if his gamble did NOT pay off as handsomely as it did with films like The Cat People (marital strife), The Curse of the Cat People (loneliness and introversion amongst children), The 7th Victim (the danger of cults and those most susceptible to them) and, among others, I Walked With a Zombie (mental illness).

Lewton believed that what really scared people were those things they had to deal with everyday. He believed in doing this above all - setting wheels of reality in motion against a fantastical backdrop which yielded a much better chance of scoring at the box office. Without Lewton, one wonders if we'd have ever seen similar approaches to storytelling on the screen that have all become classics of both genre and cinema as a whole.

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 a 12-year-old girl by members of the medical profession. 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.

Robert Wise's The Haunting and Jack Clayton's The Innocents followed in Lewton's footsteps to explore mental illness within the context of seemingly straight-up ghost stories and, lest we forget, Nicholas Roeg's extraordinary Don't Look Now which begins with a child's accidental death, moves through to parental grief and eventually into territory of the most horrific kind.

With the ever-widening gap between rich and poor, the increased likelihood of apocalypse as America ramps up its greedy desire to control oil in the name of fighting terrorism and the obvious New World Order desire to cull the world's population, we are living in dangerous times. So much so that writer/director Ciaran Foy wisely places Citadel, his dystopian tale of horror in the same footsteps forged by Lewton.

Foy's picture 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.

Contributing greatly here is lead actor Aneurin Barnard as the young father Tommy. He delivers a performance so haunting, it's unlikely audiences will ever shake the full impact of what he achieves. Off the top of my head, I can think of very few (if any) scenes he is not in. We follow his story solely from his sphere and given that the character is almost always in a state of intense apprehension, the whole affair could have been utterly unbearable. Thankfully, he breathes such humanity into the role that we not only side with him, but I frankly defy anyone to NOT see themselves (or at least aspects of who they are and what they feel) within this indelibly wrought character.

As the film progresses, Tommy lives alone in a desolate housing project - a single father alone with his baby. On the few occasions he must leave the house and enter a world of emptiness, squalor, constantly grey skies and interiors lit under harsh fluorescents, his head is down, his eyes only occasionally looking around for potential danger and/or to literally see where he is walking (or rather, scurrying to). Just as Tommy is constantly in a state of terror - so, stunningly, are we.

There are seldom any points in the proceedings when we feel "safe" and when an occasional moment of warmth creeps into Tommy's existence, the effect is like finding an oasis in the Sahara. Unfortunately (and brilliantly), Foy's screenplay doesn't allow safe harbour for too long. Dramatically, we're almost constantly assaulted with natural story beats that yank us from our (and Tommy's) ever-so brief moments of repose.

Tranquility is a luxury and Foy fashions a living hell plunges both the audience and Tommy into the here and now as opposed to a very near future. Citadel sadly reflects a reality that pretty much exists on many streets in every city of the world. This is an increasing reality of contemporary existence and like all great science fiction, the film's dystopian vision acts as a wakeup call that hopefully will touch many beyond the converted.

Things must change, or this is what more and more of us will be experiencing. We can, like Tommy does for a good part of the film, shove our heads, ostrich-like into the false safety offered under the sand, but sooner or later we/he will be ripped out of the temporary "safety" of darkness to face two distinct realities: the horror of the world and even worse, the horror of his/our own fear and cowardice. Neither are happy prospects to be emblazoned upon anyone's hearts and minds when the meeting of one's maker is not far behind.

Tommy will have to make the right decision. He'll need to become proactive in finding his inner strength to fight for what is right. The options are black and white. Fight and die trying or, just die.

Now, before you think I'm completely suggesting the film is more starkly depressing than Ingmar Bergman's Winter Light, first remember that this is, indeed a horror film and Foy jangles our nerves with the panache of a master. Have no doubts going in - this movie will scare the living bejesus out of you. It is, on that level, one hell of a ride.

The other happy element at play is a character Foy creates that is rendered by the phenomenal actor James Cosmo. Now if you thought Gene Hackman was suitably two-fisted as the stalwart man of the cloth in Ronald Neame's The Poseidon Adventure, he is, in the parlance of louts the world over, a "pussy" compared to Cosmo. Cosmo plays the most mentally unbalanced, kick-ass, foul-mouthed priest I've seen on film in some time - possibly of ALL time.

The Good Father knows the score, and then some. To paraphrase the tagline from the delightfully ludicrous Stallone cop picture Cobra: Fear's a disease. The Good Father is the CURE!!! The few people left of good character in this world of empty, battle torn housing projects rife with crime, all believe Father Cosmo is completely off his rocker. The Good Father's unnamed in the film, but in honour of Cosmo's stellar performance, I'm naming him - at least for the purposes of this written response to Foy's remarkable film.

Father Cosmo adds one extremely salient detail to Foy's film - humour. Great genre pictures always have some element of humour - not of the tongue and cheek variety, but the kind that's rooted in the central dramatic action of the narrative.

The other great thing about Father Cosmo is his Faith - and believe me, it's not necessarily residing in honour of the God of Abraham.

Father Cosmo really only has faith in one thing amidst the dark dystopian days - survival. At first, Tommy is intimidated by the curmudgeonly bonkers priest, but over time, it becomes obvious this slightly fallen Man o' God is the only one who makes sense. Something is rotten to the core and Father Cosmo has a plan to root out the pestilence.

You see, there is an infection.

Have I mentioned the infection yet?

No?

Good.

I'll let you discover it yourself.

As my regular readers are aware, I do everything in my power to know as little about a movie before I see it. I was so happy to know NOTHING about this movie prior to seeing it save for the title. The fact that I saw it at the Toronto After Dark Film Festival was also, by osmosis, a bit of a giveaway since this stellar event's programmers are delectably twisted sick puppies.

That said, I knew nothing - just as I hope YOU will keep things before seeing Citadel. The script, as well written as it is, hit a few (perfectly acceptable) marks that telegraphed a handful of items to me (and no doubt to a select few others), so there is little gained in pointing in their direction. In spite of this, I was quite unprepared for the full, heart-stopping, scream-inducing (yes, I screamed like some old grandmother), vomit-inspiring, drawer-filling (with, of course, your excretion of choice - I demurely keep mine to myself) and a flat-out dizzying, jack-hammeringly appalling climax of pure, sickening, unadulterated terror.

This is one mighty mo-fo of a scary-ass picture. The mise-en-scene is dazzling and the tale is rooted in both a humanity and reality that will wallop close to home for so many. There's nary a misstep in any of the performances and as the movie inches, like Col. Walter E. Kurtz's "snail crawling along the edge of a straight razor", Foy plunges us into an abyss at the top of the stairs.

In Apocalypse Now, Kurtz summed up the image of the snail on the straight razor thusly: "That's my dream!"

Frankly, Citadel is MY dream of one great horror movie.

Fuck it! It's no dream.

Citadel is a bloody nightmare!

"Citadel" was recently unleashed at the Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012). Visit the festival website HERE. "Citadel" is currently slated for theatrical release in Canada on November 16 via the best distributor in the country, Mongrel Media. If you missed it at TADFF 2012, you have no excuse to miss it now. It must be seen on a big screen with an audience. Though certain, shall we say, odours, will be palpable in the auditorium, it will be well worth it.

COCKNEYS VS. ZOMBIES -Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012)

Is that really Pussy Galore holding an automatic weapon? Indeed it is. Honor Blackman makes this  dull, derivative zombie comedy ALMOST watchable. 

Cockneys VS. Zombies (2012) *½
dir. Matthias Hoene
Starring: Alan Ford, Honor Blackman, Harry Treadaway, Rasmus Hardiker, Michelle Ryan

Review By Greg Klymkiw

God knows I love a good horror picture, but I'm getting so tired of zombie movies that when something like Cockneys VS. Zombies comes along, I almost never want to see a zombie movie ever again. The title was almost enough to tell me what I'd be in for, though, as a lover of genre fare, I filed away my preconceptions and prostrated myself before it, waiting to see if the picture's celluloid schwance would connect with my prostate gland in a pleasing manner.

Alas, the picture missed its target altogether. Sitting through the movie created nasty fissures requiring healthy applications of Anusol. So slight, so lacking in the laughs it promised (save for an overabundance of hoary gags and lines not even worthy of a "Carry On" picture) and finally, a horror-comedy so ludicrously replete with carnage, but nary a single decent scare, I scratched my noggin, gouging gaping holes in my scalp to ascertain why the audience I saw it with were guffawing and slapping their collective knees so heartily.

Cockneys VS. Zombies is little more than Shaun of the Dead, but dwelling in a sewer several notches below.

A handful of bumbling bank robbers (wanh-waaannnhhh) in the East End of London, score a humungous sum of cash to help their Grandfather relocate to a decent retirement home since mega-development will be swallowing up his beloved domicile. The old fart is to be placed in some squalid public digs out in the middle of nowhere - hardly suitable quarters for a crusty, curmudgeonly war veteran.

Of course, the bumblers are not hardened criminals. They're doing a good deed, so we're supposed to empathize with them. When some bonehead construction workers release a whole army of the living dead upon the east end of London (a symbol, no doubt, of what havoc gentrification can wreak), our heroes manage to get away sans police interference, but instead must kick zombie ass to keep the money and their otherwise worthless lives.

Eventually, they band together with the seniors who turn out to be amazing zombie whackers. The sight of a Geritol-imbibing Honor Blackman blasting the heads off zombies with an automatic assault rifle is not without merit. And yes, it is indeed THAT Honor Blackman - "Pussy Galore" from Goldfinger.

There was probably a good picture buried in here somewhere, but everything is played out so clumsily and at such a high pitch, that the whole experience is merely exhausting. The proceedings clod-hop about by rote with an annoyingly jaunty manner that nothing ever manages to surprise us at any turn.

It's great seeing Honor Blackman on a big screen again. She not only kills zombies, but turns on the old "Pussy Galore" charm to elevate her to maximum GMILF levels. Alan Ford as Grandad also delivers a solid piss and vinegar performance and there are moments of mild entertainment when he puts his war-mongering prowess to good use.

These are, however, meagre delights. They make one wish for a better movie to see both of these great actors strut their stuff in. For now, though, all those with crushes on Honor Blackman who possess a GMILF fetish, please lineup for Cockneys VS. Zombies at your earliest opportunity.

"Cockneys VS. Zombies" played at the Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012). For further info, please visit the festival website HERE.

DOOMSDAY BOOK - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012)

DOOMSDAY BOOK

3 Apocalyptic SF visions

2 of Korea's finest directors

Doomsday Book (2012) ***
dir. Kim Jee-woon and Yim Pil-sung

“A Brave New World” ***
“Heavenly Creature” ****
“Happy Birthday” **

Review By Greg Klymkiw

The omnibus film, the portmanteau if you will, or, if you're not fond of a cool monicker for this interesting genre, the anthology film, can be a mixed blessing as it's comprised of several short stories linked by theme and for a variety of reasons, not all of them are going to be as good as some, while others can be downright dreadful.

Seeing short films - one after another - can often be downright exhausting. This is always a problem at film festivals that present short film programs or, for that matter, short film festivals period. You watch a film. Let's say it's terrific. It runs an intense 15 or so minutes. As soon as it ends, no matter how thematically linked the overall program is, you need to reboot yourself and get into a whole new headspace for a whole new story. Sometimes, you see a short and it's so damn good that anything that follows it is, even if it's genuinely good also, can actually pale in comparison. It's the tough-act-to-follow syndrome. Shorts worked in the old days of film exhibition because there was always a variety of programming - two feature films, a short "drama", a short "musical", a cartoon, a newsreel and, of course, previews of coming attraction. These days, a perfect place for one short is just before a feature and ideally, shorts - in and of themselves - are best viewed with breaks between theml

Watching shorts within the context of a feature is just as difficult, if not more so. When you watch a feature, there's the expectation of following one set of characters through one primary narrative thread, but within an omnibus feature, its makers have to construct an overall arc with several separate stories.

The best features of this variety tend to be linked with a wraparound story. A simple example is the 70s Amicus production of Asylum. Directed by the famous cinematographer Roy Ward Baker, the story begins with a young psychiatrist being interviewed for a job in an asylum. He's given a test - interview several inmates and render a series of diagnoses. He visits each inmate and they each have a horrific story to tell. Through the film, we follow the psychiatrist. What will he discover? Will he get the job? Or, will this job interview unexpectedly culminate in something as horrific as the tales told to him. Along with several films made during this period, it's a corker of a tale and one fine example of how an omnibus film should work.

One of the best omnibus items is the classic 1945 Dead of Night. The whole picture is wonderful, BUT, one story involving a ventriloquist and his dummy is so brilliant, so expertly performed by Michael Redgrave, one leaves the theatre thinking only about the one story. Everything else, admittedly fine, falls by the wayside.

Thematic omnibus films are much trickier to pull off and frankly, I don't think any of them work perfectly. Cristian Mungiu's Tales from the Golden Age works best in recent memory as it's tied into a specific historical period and we get to experience a number of recurring incidents and character types within the context of the whole. Mungiu also crafts the tales to provide an overall arc.

The new Korean film Doomsday Book is a thematic omnibus film in the science fiction genre. Focusing upon apocalyptic visions, it's a very mixed bag since it begins with a solid story, dovetails into a genuinely great story and ends with a mildly engaging, but in comparison to the middle story, the feature's crowning glory is anything but.

All this said, the film is worth seeing. The first story, “A Brave New World”, is a darkly humorous and terrifying tale of a zombie epidemic. We follow a central character, a sort of nebbish type who's browbeaten by his domineering mother and his search for love. He unwittingly is responsible for a deadly virus and we chart its growth along with his own tale of emancipation and finding love. It's an entertaining bauble and it sets us up for what we believe will be a terrific overall experience.

The second tale, “Heavenly Creature”, is so powerful, so emotional and so profoundly moving, that the first film is almost erased from our memory banks. It's a simple evocative tale of a robot that develops feelings. We chart the robot's journey to a high form of spiritual enlightenment and the eventual distrust amongst extremists that such a "machine" will be a threat to humanity.

The final tale, “Happy Birthday” is a chaotic, stylistic mess about a family sniping at each other in a fallout shelter during armageddon. It's overwrought and not especially funny. Most of all, it's positioning at the end of the portmanteau is a big disappointment as it comes close to tainting the sublime qualities of the middle tale.

I suspect, on the whole, Doomsday Book might - even with this disappointing final story - have worked so much better with a solid wraparound story instead of placing so much faith in theme to tie it together.

Once the film hits DVD, I highly suggest turning the player off just after the middle tale. Better yet, though the first story is not without merit, you might be better off making use of the menu screen to select the first two stories and watch them, if possible, as separate entities.

Speaking of shorts, Doomsday Book during its TADFF 2012 presentation was preceded by Frost, a fine Canadian short drama directed by Jeremy Ball that expertly told a haunting, mysterious tale against the backdrop of Canada's northern aboriginal peoples. This story of a young woman confronting a terrifying spiritual presence linked to her ancestry had enough of a subtle apocalyptic subtext as well as narrative elements dealing with both quest and familial acceptance that made it fit perfectly into the Doomsday Book omnibus. I should have left after “Heavenly Creature”. In retrospect, Ball's short and the first two shorts in Doomsday Book made for an excellent feature film.

"Doomsday Book" screened as part of the Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012). For further info, feel free to visit the festival's website HERE.

AMERICAN MARY - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012)

The Soska Twins present the Canadian Premiere of their creepy, stunningly directed and viciously dark-humoured psychological thriller AMERICAN MARY at Toronto After Dark (TADFF 2012).

American Mary **** (2012)
dir. Soska Twins: Jen Soska, Sylvia Soska
Starring: Katharine Isabelle, Tristan Risk, Antonio Cupo, David Lovgren

Review By Greg Klymkiw

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?

Well yes, they most certainly can and do, 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).

With this new picture, the sisters are 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 will, in fact, find the picture more than palatable. The rest of us 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 fuckling" (phrase courtesy of the late, great CanLit genius Scott Symons) aforementioned 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.)

A number of the cast members are truly first-rate. 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 her stunning, real-woman looks). Isabelle'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.

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 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. I recently had the pleasure to personally express to William Friedkin that his new film Killer Joe - in spite of how violent, scary, horrific, darkly funny, nasty and just plain vile it was - sent me out of the theatre in a state of sheer, unadulterated bouyancy. This pleased the Master, greatly. Somewhere out there in Canuckville's Lotus Land, I hope the Soska Twins realize just how utterly bouyant there own crazed, brilliant film is. And someday, I expect them to deliver one kick-ass devil-may-care Friedkin-like rollercoaster ride through hell after another.

I'm sure they'll do it.

"American Mary" had its Canadian Premiere at the Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012) and will be released in Canada via Anchor Bay. For further info, feel free to visit the TADFF website HERE.

[REC]3: GENESIS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012)

KLYMKIW SAY:
There's nothing like a blood spattered bride wielding a chainsaw at the zombies who buggered up her magical wedding day. The creepy, scary Spanish found footage horror franchise takes a stylish turn in the right direction. "REC3: GENESIS" is my favourite of the series so far.

[REC]3: Genesis (2012) ***1/2
dir. Paco Plaza
Starring: Leticia Dolera, Diego Martin, Javier Botet, Alex Monner

Review By Greg Klymkiw

The found footage conceit in contemporary horror movies seemed, at least for awhile, deader than a doornail after the phenomenon of The Blair Witch Project, the famous camcorder video diary of some obnoxious college kids going into the deep bush to find the truth behind a rural legend.

While the picture was a huge moneymaker, its staying power - even amongst the film's most devoted fans turned out to be rather negligible once repeat viewings revealed little more than what was already there. Subsequent helpings revealed a film that was little more than a one-trick pony. Worse yet, the movie has not aged well. That said, it still deserves a place in screen history as a picture that worked when people first saw it and was backed by an astounding marketing campaign that was as important to the film's financial success as it was to the film's home movie aesthetic blended with pure things-going-bump in the night scares and psychological horror.

It also spawned a whole new horror film adjunct and within the canon of found footage horror, a few pictures certainly proved to have have staying power. Paranormal Activity is still terrifyingly hypnotic and its sequels, while not quite classic material, proved to be supremely entertaining.

The recent Chernobyl Diaries featured a slightly confusing found footage element, but also delivered a decent amount of scares and an interesting political subtext dealing with the exploitation of tragedy within ex-Soviet countries.

The craziest of the lot, was definitely the Spanish found footage horror film [Rec] and its sequel [Rec]2, both dealing with a quarantined apartment building and a small group of survivors attempting to evade crazed, parasite-infected cannibals in a zombie-like state. The first entry was, like Paranormal Activity, a well crafted horror thriller that stands up to repeated viewings, though [Rec] reveals far too many holes in the "plot" and found footage logic. Due to its blistering pace, the picture thankfully keeps you from wandering too far from the terror and carnage.

[Rec]3: Genesis is the best picture in the franchise to date. The found footage conceit is handled in a really unique way and the shifts in mise-en-scene make for a delightful surprise to fans of the first two outings. The cool shift also allows for one shocker after another within the context of a visually crackerjack approach and a setting that can't be beat.

In a palatial, old mansion converted into a massive event venue, we enjoy two primary video captures of a young couple's marriage. When a jolly drunken Uncle begins vomiting and indulging in all manner of bizarre hijinx, it doesn't take long to establish that a horrible infection is spreading amongst the party guests. And yes, they're turning into ravenous cannibalistic zombies. Our attractive hubby and wife get predictably, though understandably separated and must battle their way through zombie hell to reunite safely.

Buoyed by a clutch of terrific acting, superb effects and some delicious shocks, [Rec3] delivers the goods and then some. Replete with a terrific sense of black humour, a breakneck pace with enough pauses to provide expected jolts and a welcome return to the notion of Judeo-Christian religion as a weapon against the unholy evil (a la many vampire films, especially in the Hammer Horror cycle much before the idiotic spate of Twilight movies and their ilk), the movie is designed as a first-rate roller coaster ride replete with virtuoso cinematography, art direction and very little in the way of herky-jerky visuals and cutting. In fact, the cutting is damn fine! Every cut is devoted to advancing things dramatically which, of course, is what assists the pace.

Most of all, though, what sells [Rec]3, at least to this fella', 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?

Oh, and have I mentioned her red garter yet?

[Rec3] is pure, unadulterated joy! Though it's now on Bluray and DVD, try to see it on a big screen with an audience. The electricity in that context will be palpable and the movie's good enough to watch again and again once you do pick up the home entertainment version.

"[Rec]3" is playing at the Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012). For further info, visit the festival's website HERE.

INBRED - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012)

Vile, pointless, humourless, style-bereft torture porn.

Inbred (2011)  *1/2
dir. Alex Chandon
Starring: Jo Hartley, Seamus O'Neill, James Doherty, James Burrows,

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Inbred is sickening. Other than that, there's really no reason for this moronically vile picture to exist. It's humourless, irredeemably nasty, lacking suspense and aimed squarely at the most indiscriminating genre fans. The screenplay, such as it is, appears to have been crafted overnight, whilst the direction is strictly by-the-numbers.

Two case workers bring four at-risk youth to an abandoned house to learn teamwork and demonstrate their survival skills. Unluckily for the lot of them, they're surrounded by inbreds from the nearby village. One by one, the six of them are brutally kidnapped, tortured and murdered.

That's about it, folks.

Obviously influenced by Tobe Hooper's Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but lacking that film's intelligence, panache and brilliantly constructed nightmare logic we're left with carnage for the sake of carnage.

Oh, and it's British.

As such, the White Trash on display are so much more erudite than their drawling counterparts in the southernmost regions of the colonies. No Texas BBQ made from human flesh, please. We're British.

On a technical front, the picture is well enough made. The locations and art direction evoke a suitably creepy atmosphere and the cinematography is perfectly competent. The special makeup effects and gore are superbly rendered, but ultimately all this is for nought as the movie is dull, nasty and singularly pointless save for wallowing in the violence.

The villains are costumed and performed with a bit of panache, but the "heroes" have little going for them as characters or even character-types that we're quite happy to see them dispatched in the most horrendous ways.

Perhaps this was the point. Perhaps this is why we're supposed to ascribe an innate intelligence to the film. Well, "perhaps" isn't much to make the movie more than what it is. Perhaps it's more fake than all the Hollywood films that are so purportedly empty because it pretends to be more than torture porn.

By the end of the movie, the inbreds walk into the sunset in silhouette. This, for sure, must mean it's "art".

I was jaw agape at the senselessness of what I had just subjected myself to. I love horror films and I'm perfectly fond of inbreds, but I finally had no idea why anyone, save perhaps for an inbred, would actually enjoy the film.

Yes, there's some clumsy subtext about rural life yielding a meanness rooted in ages-old tradition stemming from the exploitation of the downtrodden in contrast to the emptiness of the urban teens whose "badness" is banal and rooted in no sense of history and tradition, but none of this is dealt with in any interesting or intelligent way.

Finally, it really is all about the torture.

This is the film's biggest failing. It's not scary. It's just gross.

And that's what's really gross.

"Inbred" is part of the Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012). For more information, visit the festival website HERE.

GRABBERS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto After Dark Film Festival 2012 Opening Night Gala (TADFF 2012)

KLYMKIW SAY:

GRABBERS pits Booze-fuelled-Irishmen against a ravenous family of multi-tentacled blood-sucking beasts from the briny blue sea, so check it out lest ye be some feckin' vomitous tea-totalling toady, eh.

Grabbers (2012) ***
dir. Jon Wright
Starring: Richard Coyle, Ruth Bradley, Lalor Roddy, Russell Tovey

Review By Greg Klymkiw

When your town is ravaged by monsters: Who ya' gonna' call?

Well, who the fuck else? Drunken Irishmen, of course.

Grabbers is an amiable horror comedy in the gobblingly gruesome, grandly guffaw-inducing tradition of Joe Dante creature features. Set on a remote island paradise (of sorts) is perfectly suited to soused fishermen. It's also a fine breeding ground for slimy squid-like abominations with bone-crushingly powerful tentacles and frightful maws.

A hot young filly from the big city parachutes into the main village to offer temp vacation relief to its only representative of law and order - a boozing member of Ireland's proud national constabulary, the Garda. They're kind of like the Royal Canadian Mounted Police only they do not wear menstrual-blood-soaked uniforms de couleur écarlate, nor do they ride horses with vibrating Maple Leaf flagpoles up their puckered arse-holes. Oh, and unlike the Dudley Do-Rights of the Dominion of Canada, Garda are proudly and mightily pissed-up half the time.

For our hero, nothing a little monster-brawling and romance can't cure.

She's young, eager and perky. He's a grizzled drunk. Love is in the air. Booze is flowing. Monsters are looming. It's Ireland after all.

Did I mention that our heroine is hot? No? Well, she is.

And the monsters are suitably disgusting and deadly.

The first 45 of the movie's 90 minute running time is near-perfect. Gob-stuffed with an Iranian oilfield full of laughs and a clutch of terrific comic performances, the picture is especially blessed with the presence of an utterly brilliant and knee-slappingly hilarious Lalor Roddy. Playing a sort of Jaws-like Quint, this happy-go-lucky, foul-mouthed fisherman is too perpetually pissed to be as Ahab-like as Robert Shaw in Spielberg's famed shark thriller, but goddamn it all to hell, Lalor renders some tremendously hilarious gut-busting thespian gymnastics.

Richard Coyle as our hero is suitably stalwart, even when he's pissed. Russell Tovey is perfectly dweeb-ish as the village's resident man of science whilst Ruth Bradley is suitably babe-o-licious (if a trifle perky - so perky she imbues the need for some healthy Garda schwance-prodding from our hero).

Add to the mix of this gruesome grabber some first-rate gore, terrific special effects and a heroine who is one mighty HOT BABE - have I, perchance, mentioned this yet? - and you've got yourself a grandly funny picture. The F/X in particular are especially cool. It looks like there's some fine prosthetic/model work in addition to the CGI. If it's ALL CGI, then it's feckin' brilliant CGI.

Screenwriter Kevin Lehane crafts a decent scenario, but I was hoping it might go into the slightly more satirical directions some of the 70s monster movies penned by John Sayles for paycheques to cover the costs of his art film forays. As well, Grabbers does spin its wheels in the second half which feels a bit like a combination of script longueurs and a harried, rather than harrowing pace.

No matter. A near perfect first half and plenty of engaging low budget delights add up to an overall pleasing ninety-minutes of your life. You won't get the time back, but the picture gives you such a good run for your money, you probably won't mind.

Oh, and much as I'm dying to spoil this for you, I won't, but I will say that the secret weapon that poisons the monsters - especially the babies - is so appropriate, I suspect you'll piss yourself.

"GRABBERS" is the opening night gala at the Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012. For further info, check out the Fest's website HERE.