The Fog

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 (okay)

Nearing its 100th anniversary, the Californian coastal town of Antonia Bay is swept under a supernatural fog, whose lurking terror threatens to reveal bloody secrets long forgotten.

The enduring power of John Carpenter’s best films, from The Thing to Escape From New York stems from their complexity. From multiple narratives to social commentary, Carpenter’s best works remain fresh because they morph into something new with each viewing.

The Fog, by contrast to Carpenter’s classics, is ironically transparent. Directed, scored and partly written by Carpenter himself, The Fog is a shallow thriller which grasps at one idea and overextends that premise into a film. The fog itself, with its connotations of the unknown, could have built a brooding tale of suspense as Frank Darabont provided with 2008’s The Mist. Instead Carpenter focuses upon shipwrecked ghosts who badly mimic slasher horror villains as they butcher the townsfolk. The Fog’s often flat dialogue and variable acting is not compensated by tension or terror despite some decent build ups. John Carpenter strongly displays some of his best direction in the film; especially during the opening sequence where the random acts of ordinary objects create a delicious dread. Despite Carpenter’s visual brilliance, which like ancient alchemy can turn low budget ideas into Hollywood gold, The Fog never becomes an excellent film. The Fog’s biggest problem is that it is neither scary nor engrossing. The film never elicits strong emotional responses or leaves any intrigue in the viewer for a second watch.

Having now watched The Fog and The Prince of Darkness, two of Carpenter’s less remembered works, it is astonishing to see how Carpenter’s ideas have rippled across our zeitgeist. Even his weaker films have shaped or predicated films to come. The Prince of Darkness’ biblical distillation of horror preceded the 1990’s slew of apocalyptic films supping on Christian myth. From the eerie setting of the Silent Hill video games to Netflix’s Stranger Things, The Fog’s distinguishing feature of a town sealed up by something unnatural has been recycled repeatedly. Classic B Movie The Lost Boys borrowed and then developed The Fog’s underused theme of a town bound up by a secret. John Carpenter may at times falter, but his willingness to follow a unique vision has bequeathed a legacy both direct and subtle upon Western cinema.

Despite its flaws, The Fog is enjoyable for Carpenter fans and is a decent film to have in the background on a lazy Sunday.

By Saul Shimmin

For the trailer, see below:

 

 

Advertisements

Assassination Nation

Rating: 4 out of 5 (excellent)

In the aptly named town of Salem, Lily and her three teenage friends feel the brunt of a witch trial as the town’s online secrets are exposed. Assassination Nation is a pleasant surprise which should not be judged by its surface. Suggested by trailers to be an exploitation flick excused by light social commentary, Assassination Nation is actually a damning warning against our internet age.

For all of us, the internet has become our true reality just like the characters of Assassination Nation. The internet is used by Salem’s townsfolk as a facade and the bearer of their dirty secrets. Yet by imprinting both their good and bad aspects online, Salem’s inhabitants risk the wrath of others if their whole selves are ever revealed.

Once the accounts of Salem’s inhabitants are hacked and displayed to the world, the internet ceases to be a haven and becomes a cannibalistic monster as each leak is eaten up by others online. What follows is a vicious cycle of scandal, victimisation and vigilantism as Salem descends into mob rule. Salem’s spiral, both online and in the real world, invokes the perfidiousness of social media. Akin to the events of Assassination Nation, users of YouTube, Twitch and Instagram have risen to fame only to fall and become fodder for the very same platforms.

Mimicking the hyper sexuality displayed across the internet, Lily and her friends reflect the new male gaze. They are openly praised both in person and online for their clothing and being sexually free until it stops suiting men. Once the hacks are released and Salem turns sour, there are uncomfortable scenes as the male dominated mob shame the leading girls. Although difficult to watch, these moments push viewers to honestly consider how men treat women online.

Despite plenty of humour, the highly affected teenage dialogue of Assassination Nation’s young cast, alongside their near constant revelry, is a complete caricature. Looking back as I watched the film, my teenage years were deathly bland by contrast. Maybe I lacked the confidence, money or freedom for teenage misadventure, but even the ‘cooler’ kids at my school were tame compared to Assassination Nation. The glaringly unrealistic behaviour and conversations of Assassination Nation’s youngsters can plunge the viewer back into disbelief.

Weaknesses in director Sam Levinson’s script is compensated by the visual aspects of his story telling. Simple effects, alongside perfectly timed scores and selected songs, add a resonance to events and Lily’s narrative monologues. The screen ribbons into separate columns as teenagers broadcast their personas online during a party. Once the hacks destabilise the town the camera inverts during a long take of a cheerleader rehearsal. The huge American flag in the rehearsal’s background then appears upside down. The flag’s re-positioning is a military signal symbolising that Salem and perhaps the country itself are in distress.

Viewers expecting extensive performances from Bill Skarsgård and Bella Thorne will be disappointed with their brief appearances compared to Assassination Nation’s trailers. Odessa Young is compellingly candid as lead character Lilly but my personal favourite was Hari Nef as transgender student Bex. Bex’s story arc was the most human in Assassination Nation’s manic world.

By Saul Shimmin

For the trailer, see below:

Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald

Rating: 1 out of 5 (almost unwatchable)

Synopsis: Following from the first Fantastic Beasts film, Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald returns to the magical world of Harry Potter during the 1920’s. Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne) is once again tasked with battling Voldemort’s precursor, wizard supremacist Grindelwald (Johnny Depp).

Despite the exquisite settings, the expensive cast and the extensive use of CGI, I never cared about anything in The Crimes of Grindelwald’s two hour testament to J.K. Rowling’s inability to write screenplays.

The true ‘crimes’ of this new chapter in the Harry Potter prequel series is to repeat the flaws of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them while retaining none of its few positives. J.K.Rowling’s second attempt at adapting her Fantastic Beasts novel results in another mangled and lazy mess. Defying the first film’s conclusions while leaving many questions unresolved, The Crimes of Grindelwald is riddled by plot holes, character twists and a tangle of half realised sub plots. Only the most ardent Harry Potter acolytes will have enough knowledge to understand the film’s incomplete story.

All major characters from the first film are slotted into the new Parisian setting by excuses of varying quality. The Crimes of Grindelwald’s darker tone is to act as a sobering prelude to the inevitable sequel. Starved of comedic relief compared to the first film, The Crimes of Grindelwald is unpalatable as CGI monsters once again rampage across a major city in Marvelesque displays of destruction.  Newt’s brother, Theseus Scamander (Callum Turner) alongside his fiancé Leta Lestrange (Zoe Kravitz) are introduced as part of an unspoken love triangle between Leta and the Scamander brothers. Despite emerging abruptly in typical Fantastic Beasts fashion, the love triangle is the exception to The Crimes of Grindelwald’s failing attempts at maturity. Helped by Zoë Kravitz’s performance as Leta Lestrange and well-timed flashbacks, the love triangle builds into a major mystery. However J.K. Rowling’s garbled screenwriting offers an unsatisfying answer to The Crimes of Grindelwald’s most endearing aspect.

Johnny Depp does his best as Grindelwald, a character whose actions are a mixture of Nazism and Trumpism. Yet Grindlewald and his supremacist cohort never quite emulate the darkness of Voldemort in the original Harry Potter films. Ezra Miller as Credence Barebone and Eddie Redmayne as Newt Scamander once again excel in their respective roles. Yet the combined efforts of new and returning cast members cannot rescue a film which fails to redeem the series.

The Crimes of Grindlewald is a poor copy of the original Harry Potter films, a series which beyond childhood nostalgia were not great. The dismal quality of the Fantastic Beasts series, much like Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, speak of many film studios’ awareness that some brands will print money regardless of what they shove into the cinema.

By Saul Shimmin

For the trailer, see below:

 

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 (almost a classic)

An unconnected omnibus set in the Wild West, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs brims with the Coen brothers’ hallmarks of dark humour, social commentary and bleak depictions of humanity.

Boasting a venerable and near endless cast alongside ornate cinematography, the six tales compromising The Ballad of Buster Scruggs are a return to form by the Coen brothers. Not every yarn will be well received but any duds are compensated by their neighbours. Particular favourites were the supernatural ‘The Mortal Remains’, and Tom Waits as an eccentric prospector in ‘All Gold Canyon’. The worst story was ‘The Gal who got rattled’ which despite Zoe Kazan’s performance was dull and too long.

No other contemporary directors have so markedly moulded the Western as the Coen brothers. The brothers’ adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s No County For Old Men birthed the New Western style of film including Wind River and Sicario, while their remake of True Grit ushered a renaissance for the classic Western in mainstream cinema.

The chimeric nature of The Ballad of Buster Scruggs reflects the Western’s position as an umbrella genre. The unifying theme of the divergent tales is change, often wrought violently in the West to the benefit of the bad and to the suffering of the innocent. The brutal re-invention seen in some of the film’s stories symbolises the shifting meaning of the Western beneath its surface.

Innocence is a flickering rarity in The Ballad of Buster Scruggs. Even the seemingly good within the anthology are corrupted in some way. The lack of moral distinctions in the Wild West is exemplified by the eponymous Buster Scruggs. Sporting the spotless garb of a ‘White Hat’, Buster Scruggs’s vanity and blood-lust is anathema to the morality and the restraint of the archetypal hero Buster’s wardrobe emulates. By deconstructing the Western in The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, the Coen brothers reveal what history so often is; a myth built upon the silence of the vanquished which blankets the worst excesses of generations past.

Unorthodox in structure yet devoid of their regular cast, the Coen brothers are somewhat restrained in The Ballad of Buster Scruggs despite Netflix’s bottomless finances. It may well be that the directing duo are following the Western genre and morphing once more.

Much like fellow Netflix original Hold the Dark, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs deserves viewing in a cinema, not to languish buffering upon a laptop with a half-asleep internet connection.

By Saul Shimmin

For the trailer, see below:

The Prince of Darkness (4K Restoration)

2.5 out of 5 (okay)

Synopsis: Hidden for centuries by the Catholic church in an L.A cathedral, a mysterious container can no longer hold back the force within. An anonymous priest (Donald Pleasance) enlists physics professor Howard Birack (Victor Wong) and his PhD cohort to understand the container before it is all too late.

Jaded by the big Hollywood studios after Big Trouble in Little China, John Carpenter’s The Prince of Darkness is an unsuccessful attempt by the auteur director to return to his low-budget roots. Emulating the siege in Assault on Precinct 13 alongside the hidden enemy of The Thing and Halloween’s sudden scares; The Prince of Darkness is an enjoyable but forgettable sum of Carpenter’s classics.

Despite an overly long title sequence, The Prince of Darkness’ opening act creates a brooding air of tension due to Donald Pleasance’s performance and Carpenter’s direction. The mystery as to what the container holds is slowly teased through environmental design, indirect clues and yet another synth laden score by Carpenter himself. The film’s revelation about the container is an odd mix of Lovecraft, Christianity and quantum physics which loses integrity as The Prince of Darkness morphs into a zombie film. An abrupt ending with a cliff hanger twist also does little to resolve the plot’s lapsing logic.

The Prince of Darkness does frighten and sports moments of typical Carpenter humour, but hammy acting and some truly awful dialogue are glaring flaws. Carpenter’s Halloween has similar problems, but its originality overcomes its weaknesses. Occasionally struggling from a narrative perspective, The Prince of Darkness’ true positive is Carpenter’s direction. Using practical effects and wide-angle lenses, Carpenter creates moments of shock, surrealism and brooding without modern horror’s reliance on blaring sound, big budgets and CGI. At the film’s best moments Carpenter’s camera conjures the same dread in the viewer as Halloween.

Ultimately The Prince of Darkness is a T.V film, something to be half observed by Carpenter fans curious to see a lesser known Carpenter work. Having reserved a month in advance to watch the film’s 4K re-release, The Prince of Darkness was a little underwhelming.

By Saul Shimmin

For the trailer, see below:

Wildlife

Rating: 5 out of 5 (classic)

Set in the waning days of the 1950’s, Wildlife charts the collapsing marriage between Jerry Brinson (Jake Gyllenhaal) and Jeanette Brinson (Carey Mulligan) from the perspective of their 14 year old son Joe ( Ed Oxenbould).

A tale revealed as much by observation as it is told by dialogue, Wildlife boldly promises a bright directorial path for actor Paul Dano in one of my favourite films this year.

Wildlife begins with a forest fire blazing away in the background of the Brinson’s anonymous Montana hometown. The fire is a symbol for the dissolution of Joe’s family life, a destructive phenomenon ignored by the townsfolk and by contemporary American society. Robbed of any support, Joe is subjected to a rude baptism as he learns to care for himself. From grocery shopping to working a job at a photography studio, Joe becomes a man during Wildlife while his parents devolve into children. Director Paul Dano uses the camera to create a visual arc for Joe’s incremental transition into adulthood. Joe’s dawning independence is his means of escape from the decaying nuclear family he belongs to. Told by his boss that photography is capturing a moment of happiness, Joe’s studio subjects become Norman Rockwell paintings of American bliss while his family life degrades further.

Echoing Loveless earlier this year, the parents of Wildlife are absent from their post. Completely self-indulgent, both Jerry and Jeanette personify two differing obsessions under the American Dream, a dream which neither are enjoying at Wildlife’s beginning. Jerry yearns to lead a life of self-reliance. From the first view of his job at a golf course, Jerry is literally at the bottom as he scrapes mud from rich clients’ shoes. Emasculated by his job and put upon by boss, he chokes at the lack of control and the lack of pride his lifestyle gives him. Jeanette wants to advance in the world at any price. Her initial positive attitude mutates into a mid-life crisis as she seeks any means to be better off. Both parents use Joe, directly and indirectly, as panacea for their behaviour throughout the film.

Jake Gyllenhaal and Carey Mulligan are a mesmerising wreck as dysfunctional couple Jerry and Jeanette. Gyllenhaal’s marked absence from Wildlife bestows ample time for Mulligan to steal all attention. Thinner than ever before on screen, Mulligan’s appearance foretells her teetering collapse from Wildlife’s beginning. Events spark Jeanette into a mid-life crisis but Mulligan enthrals as her complicated character begs both for scorn and sympathy. Switching from observer to agent in Wildlife’s events, Ed Oxenbould’s performance as Joe is a quiet fire that suddenly roars by the film’s end.

Enough is given through dialogue to understand Wildlife, yet other elements are added in the film’s visuals and the cast’s actions for the audience to observe and interpret. The combined effect is a story which engages but neither patronises nor penalises viewers if any nuances are overlooked. Outstanding praise is deserved for Wildlife’s score. David Lang’s fluttering composition mimics the ringing joy and melancholy of a lark at dawn, perfectly capturing Joe’s innocence, tragedy and sadness as the adult world swallows him up.

By Saul Shimmin

For the trailer, see below:

 

An Evening With Beverly Luff Linn

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 (okay) 

An Evening with Beverly Luff Linn follows Lulu (Aubrey Plaza) as she leaves her husband Shane Danger (Emile Hirsch) and forces drifter Colin (Jermaine Clement) to track down her old paramour Beverly Luff Linn (Craig Robinson).

Existing in a 1980’s netherworld of strangeness, An Evening with Beverly Luff Linn’s endearing off-kilter humour in the first act recedes into a ceaseless assault of strangeness upon the viewer. At worst the film equates randomness to actual whit as the cast gesture and utter nonsense like an improv group of teens who watch too much Monty Python.

The flickers of genuine deadpan humour in An Evening with Beverly Luff Linn is a sinking buoy as the film plunges into uncomfortable depths of oddness. Charming at the beginning, this film is knowingly constructed to be as awful as possible for lack of having anything better, or funnier, to deliver. An Evening with Beverly Luff Linn’s artificial awfulness is driven with a conviction that the viewer will either laugh or be branded a fool.

The film’s own reliance on its visceral strangeness is a substitute for any plot. Beginning well when focused on unhappy wife Lulu, the story becomes a feigned tangle of overlapping love triangles once the cast reach the town’s hotel. Scenes uncomfortably tread water as one oddball extra after another appears before the main cast until the designated time for wrapping up the story.

The cast clearly enjoyed making An Evening with Beverly Luff Linn, as it is they who rescue the film from being diabolically bad. Aubrey Plaza and Jermaine Clement naturally gel given their past work on FX’s Legion, but it is Jermaine who comes across as the king of weird out of the pair. Clement exudes a vulnerability that you have when you are deemed strange by those around you, while Plaza just plays the strange type. Matt Berry and Craig Robinson are shamefully underused but Emile Hirsch shines as Shane Danger. Danger is a coffee shop manager who has watched too many Dirty Harry films and has forgotten that he is a little man. Half menace, half man-child, Hirsch endears as a character who seems more complex those around him. Danger, acting as a bungling trio with his two employees, become the best part of the film.

An Evening with Beverly Luff Linn will likely become a cult classic in the ensuing years, but that will be a cult I never sign up to

By Saul Shimmin

For the trailer, see below;

Peterloo

Rating: 1 out of 5 (poor)

Synopsis: Following the burgeoning democratic movement in England after the Napoleonic Wars, Peterloo squanders all its potential to become a dry historical documentary.

Bad films can be, without sounding masochistic, a good thing to experience. They can be a rude pallet cleanser, a jolting contrast which makes the viewer appreciate the excellent films in existence. Peterloo is not a pallet cleanser, or an unintentional hit following from The Room. Once its exhausts the viewer’s patience, Peterloo is an aching slog through each minute until either the film ends or the viewer leaves.

The potential for greatness was there in Peterloo. The events of Peterloo, which sparked the fires of English democracy, are overlooked in British history. In the current age where London and its satellites are the country’s centre and the Northern provinces where I grew up decay into post-industrial collapse; it was warming to see a film focus on the North and attend a cinema screen filled to the highest row. Opening at the Battle of Waterloo, the contrasting fates of a working-class soldier and the absent Duke of Wellington speak of the excesses and sufferings when the powerful dominate the impoverished.  The initial narrative between the haves and the have-nots, displayed in discomforting detail, renders Peterloo’s first twenty minutes a prescient warning to our yawning wealth gap.

Past thirty minutes and director Mike Leigh fastidiously adapts my A-Level course on Victorian Britain’s political reforms. Leigh casts aside all promise of a great film to create something as vapid and dull as the class I endured at sixteen. What ensues is a litany of speeches and conversations, all delivered in the achingly verbose style of Victorian forefathers or lathered with the heavily affected provincial twang of Northerners from that time. The cast, while all commendable, do at first imbue the many conversations and speeches with power and allure. By the twentieth conversation it all melds into a babbling wave of tongues bickering about revolution and rights while the décor has more interest to the viewer than any words uttered. Humour, sparsely sprinkled throughout, rarely hits the mark and often fosters the Northern caricatures Peterloo ought to dispel.

The period’s schism between rich and poor, captured vividly by Charles Dickens is forgotten as actors state line after interminable line. When the end comes, any pay-off is swallowed by the purgatory of stifling scenes and tedious dialogue Mike Leigh subjects the viewer to. Even after the bloodshed at Peterloo, a few more lines are inserted as a parting shot at the audience’s nerves. The highest praise I can give Peterloo is that it should be wheeled in front of future A-level students so that they can have a snooze in class.

When the film ended, I could not decide whether I had been more foolish to sit through Peterloo or to have waited an hour and a half in a crowded art house cinema to see it on a Friday night.

By Saul Shimmin

For the trailer, see below:

Hold the Dark

Rating: 4 out of 5 (excellent)

Synopsis: Beckoned to a remote parcel of Alaska to find the wolf which killed a young boy, naturalist and writer Russell Core (Jeffrey Wright) is pulled into something far darker than he could ever imagine.

Blue Ruin, Green Room and now Hold the Dark, director Jeremy Saulnier finds the cracks in the frayed corners across the map of America and dares to look inside.

Burrowing into true crime and pulp fiction, Saulnier’s works reflect the violence and madness of life below society’s safety net and outside the middle-class bubble. Hold the Dark departs from Saulnier’s earlier films to incorporate the supernatural. The graphic violence and gritty forays into the underworld remain, but atop of this milieu sits a thread pulled from Native American mythology. The supernatural element of Hold the Dark is a malingering presence poised to ensnare the unaware. It is a force which, like the world Saulnier distils into his films, is only a breath away from reality and overshadows every character.

Saulnier’s past films abruptly parachute into the lives of their characters, offering unclear direction but ultimately resolving their mysteries. Hold the Dark yields little clarity by its end. The film’s supernatural emphasis creates a shrouded maze of abrupt twists, shifting motives and character revelations. Sporting a narrative crafted to confuse and question, Hold the Dark lacks the immediate immersion of Blue Ruin’s revenge quest or Green Room’s constrained thriller. Yet Hold the Dark has a subtle allure which like the snow swept tundra of its Alaskan setting, hides more below its layers. A second viewing melts away the film’s gruff neo-western exterior. In its place sits a tale of obsession, loneliness, loss and family against Saulnier’s examination of society’s struggle to accept humanity’s base savageness.

From the infinite sea of pines amid the snow to the subdued palette of interior scenes, Hold the Dark is an ode to the wildness of its land, punctured by a shocking shootout at the halfway point. Once the film follows the avenging father Vernon Slone (Alexander Skarsgård), Hold the Dark becomes stranger and more antiquated as the viewer steps into a myth merged with a Cormac McCarthy novel.

Jeffrey Wright and Alexander Skarsgård as protagonist and antagonist create an enticing dichotomy of perspectives. The struggle between the pair is mirrored by James Badge Dale as sheriff Donald Marium and Julian Black Antelope as Cheeon. Both Dale and Antelope unexpectedly give the most outstanding performances from the whole cast.

Not everyone will enjoy this odd mongrel of a film, but it does not deserve to dwell in the digital wilderness of Netflix’s original film collection. If you are a fan of Saulnier’s films, do spread the word, as Netflix is too focused on promoting its edgy remake of Sabrina The Teenage Witch to care about anything else.

By Saul Shimmin

For the trailer, see below;

Halloween (2018)

Rating: 4 out of 5 (excellent)

Released in 1978, Halloween was a low budget horror flick crafted on 300,000 dollars with director John Carpenter composing the score in three days. The result was an unexpected phenomenon whose mix of moral commentary, taut suspense and supernatural intrigue propelled Carpenter and Jamie Lee Curtis to public prominence. What followed in Halloween’s wake was a string of ever poorer copy-cat sequels each taking a failing stab to recreate the magic of the original.

Set 40 years after John Carpenter’s classic, 2018’s Halloween uses the distance in time to its advantage. It is a distinct narrative which springboards from the original, creating a great introduction to the myth of Michael Myers while also paying homage to the 1978 film. Halloween greatly benefits from being written, produced and directed by fans who love the original film. No part of the new film acts as a soft reboot or a cynical capitalisation upon the Halloween brand. The essence of the original’s brilliance is present while new ideas are cast into the cauldron of horrors, creating something similar yet distinct. The boldest distinction is to let time pass and not reset the clock as other horror franchises clean up the massacred from prior films and place a new cast of teens ripe for slaughter. The past forty years since the 1978 film has seasoned the new Halloween with maturity. It honestly depicts the toll upon an ordinary person, Laurie Strode, of surviving the first film and observes the ricochet of one night through her daughter and granddaughter in turn.

In the real-world Michael Myers, riding high on the era of video nasties, became part of the cultural zeitgeist and a favourite of budding horror hounds. In Halloween’s reality Michael Myers has developed his own macabre personality cult of intrigue from podcasters to psychiatrics obsessing over the mysterious figure. The theme of compulsion runs throughout Halloween, with Laurie committing her life to destroying Michael, others becoming infatuated by the mystery of Michael and then there is Michael himself.

A major difference between the Halloween of 1978 and the Halloween of today is the attention on Michael Myers. Director David Gordon Green’s camera lingers longer than past films on Michael, whose acts are more sadistic and brutal than before. Many scenes set from Michael’s perspective mirror and upend moments from the original, thwarting the expectations of long-time fans. The scariest part is Myer’s boogeyman persona. From Green’s eerie bird’s eye shot of Myers in the insane asylum yard, Michael is an unknown force compelled by an unknown objective. The more that the viewer follows Myers’ path, the more his madness has a sick logic to it; of him being compelled to complete a dark and invisible mission.

The only flaw in the new Halloween is its inclusion of Laurie’s granddaughter Allyson and her teenage pals. Laurie’s granddaughter and her friends are a retinue of bland Disney kids trying to be rebellious and mature. Their dialogue and their antics are feigned attempts to convey the adolescent air of self-importance and shallow seriousness. Now that Horror films have grown up, in large part due to Carpenter’s own works, monsters do not need a setting of sex, drugs and teenagers to be scary.

Jamie Lee Curtis and Judy Greer, as mother and daughter separated by trauma, are an excellent combination while Green’s eye brings a visual richness often unseen in Horror films. The new Halloween may have issues, but it is easily the best slasher sequel so far.

By Saul Shimmin

For the trailer, see below:

Two movie buffs readying to conquer the world.