Movie Reviews

The Alamo Drafthouse in Austin, Texas is something of a Mecca for movie geeks. In addition to first-run theatrical fare, the Drafthouse regularly showcases cult, foreign, and classic films. For the last four years, Alamo programmer Zack Carlson has hosted a late-night horror movie celebration called Terror Tuesday and if you are a lover of horror, both esoterically brilliantly and obscurely awful, this night was invented just for you.

So I decided, since I am already a fixture at the Drafthouse, despite their best efforts to get rid of me, why not provide coverage for this weekly treat? The Terror Tuesday Report will dissect the movie shown as well as provide a barometer for the audience's reaction; as many of these films demand to be seen with an audience, this proves a vital component to the evening.

This week's film: Burial Ground.

Raging Sharks' title would indicate that this is a film about killer sharks, but sharks are only the subplot in this disastrous but fun film where aliens and a rescue mission are at the heart of the story. That is, if you can call it a story because I still don't think I know what the film was really about after watching it. If you're a fan of B level shark flicks then you know this doesn't matter.

The movie isn't quite sure what it wants to be, so there are a whole lot of cooks in the kitchen. And continuing in the tradition of shark movies, there are a lot of other movies being referenced: Jaws (duh), The Thing, Aliens, Leviathan, The Abyss and the list goes on and on. You would think a film that uses few (I think I counted one?) CGI sharks would be better than most, but it's not. The film is hastily edited with stock footage inter-cut with the actors looking pensive, blank, or running for their lives on a beach screaming.

[After the jump, feel more rage ... ]

The Alamo Drafthouse in Austin, Texas is something of a Mecca for movie geeks. In addition to first-run theatrical fare, the Drafthouse regularly showcases cult, foreign, and classic films. For the last four years, Alamo programmer Zack Carlson has hosted a late-night horror movie celebration called Terror Tuesday and if you are a lover of horror, both esoterically brilliantly and obscurely awful, this night was invented just for you.

So I decided, since I am already a fixture at the Drafthouse, despite their best efforts to get rid of me, why not provide coverage for this weekly treat? The Terror Tuesday Report will dissect the movie shown as well as provide a barometer for the audience's reaction; as many of these films demand to be seen with an audience, this proves a vital component to the evening.

This week's film: The Beast Within.

I was in a rented lodge in Park City, Utah, several years ago, and since the snow was really bad (or maybe the Sundance options were really meh), I opted to dig through some screeners from "the other festival," Slamdance. (That's not meant as a knock. I adore Slamdance.) I was in town to review some films, so when I came across one screener that indicated a running time of 47 minutes, I got skeptical.

A 47-minute film, you see, is not a short film, nor is it a feature. So while I'd normally be elated to review a film called The Call of Cthulhu, it just didn't seem like a practical choice for "work." But I watched it anyway. And then I wrote my review about 18 minutes later. Months after that I ordered a copy of the film, and it still holds a firm place in my horror collection. Also, it's probably the finest, coolest, and most "faithful" H.P. Lovecraft adaptation I've ever seen. No disrespect meant to Stuart Gordon, but his awesome Re-Animator, From Beyond, and Dagon are "loose" adaptations, at best, whereas Andrew Leman's The Call of Cthulhu feels like it fell right out of 1931.

So what's all this got to do with you? Well hey, if you happen to be a Netflix subscriber (and I don't feel like a shill for saying you oughtta be), then you can enjoy the 47-minute Lovecraft love letter all by yourself. I'll even include the link: There. Enjoy! And then you can hit the official site and see what sort of lunatic passion inspires folks to make a 47-minute film in a resoundingly "feature friendly" universe. Hats off to the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society for putting this fine film together.

It's no secret that I'm a big fan of independent horror. That said, having spent the last few years optimistically wading through the highs and lows of low-budget horror filmmaking in the hope of finding diamonds in the rough has, in all honesty, kind of jaded me. I have nothing but respect for anyone who picks up a camera and tries to making something to call their own, but, let's face it, more often than not low-budget amateur horror flicks remain relegated to the obscure world of the horror movie convention tradeshow floor not because they're unlucky in distribution, but because they're just not very good.

So when fellow Cinematical/Sci-Fi Squad writer John Gholson asked if I wanted to drive three and a half hours to attend the Pretty Scary Bloodbath Film Festival, a team-up between the Texas Bloodbath Film Festival and Pretty-Scary.net designed to honor independent, female voices in horror, I had a few trepidations. But the more than reasonable ticket price of $15 for 3 features and 8 short films won me over and I've got to say that I'm really glad it did.

I had a lot of fun at the Pretty Scary Bloodbath; more than expected, actually. It delivered exactly as advertised: a fine showcase of indie horror movies made by women. Below I've done a brief rundown of everything the fest had to offer, so read on to see if there were any hidden gems to be found.

I, like practically everyone on the planet, have my vices. Aside from my deeply unsettling addiction to Italian post-apocalyptic cinema, my biggest vice would have to be the purchasing of DVDs and VHS tapes en mass. "But Brian/' you say, "everybody buys movies!" Silence lemmings! The difference is that I tend to buy movies I haven't seen based on the smallest of positive word-of-mouth. So I have quite a few titles languishing on my shelf that not only have not yet been viewed, but in many cases are still confined to their shrink-wrapped gulags. In an effort to be proactive, and quell my wife's urge to kill me, I will not buy another DVD or VHS until I watch every unviewed film I currently own.

Today's fare: Demon Seed

Barbara Steele (The Pit and the Pendulum), Joe Dante (The Howling), Camille Keaton (I Spit on Your Grave), P.J. Soles (Halloween), Adrienne King (Friday the 13th), Ray Wise (Twin Peaks), Heather Langenkamp (Nightmare on Elm Street), James Karen (Poltergeist) and Erica Leerhsen (Wrong Turn 2: Dead End) are all starring in a film together, which by itself is enough information to get me excited. The Butterfly Room is being directed by Jonathan Zarantonello and focuses on the story of Alice, a young girl with a few tricks up her sleeve, and Ann, who seems to be an empty nester but is nesting some very dark secrets.

Alice, after a lifetime of tricking older women into "adopting" her and slowly bribing them for money, disappears after meeting Ann, who seems to have never quite recovered from losing her daughter, Dorothy, after a horrible incident. Ann lives alone, collects butterflies and spends her time trying to cover up the past and the bodies she has piling up in an elevator shaft. She also guards a strange room in her house, known as the butterfly room.

Dread Central previewed some stills from the film and so far it looks like Miss Steele may be playing the wicked and weary Ann, which isn't such a shocker considering her role in classic films like Black Sunday. Joe Dante and Ray Wise will hopefully add some twisted humor to the mix. Hopefully there will be more to this one than the great genre cast, but I'm pretty much sold no matter how you slice it.

[Review by Luke Mullen.]

Ogden Marsh, Iowa is a small town with a Cheers vibe. Everybody knows your name. There's just the one doctor in town, a short main drag, and a small sheriff's station. It's the kind of town you might want to raise a family in, sending your kids down the street to Ogden Marsh School, home of the Tigers. It may as well be Mayberry. That's why it's so disturbing when you see the friends and neighbors you know so well start to kill each other.

The Crazies, based on the 1973 film of the same name, isn't a zombie film, but it evokes a lot of the same fears. The people you once knew, drank beer with, watched football with, they're not themselves anymore. They've changed, seemingly capable of anything. And before it's all over, you might just have to kill a few of them to survive.

The story focuses on Sheriff David Dutton, played by Timothy Olyphant, his deputy, Russell, and his wife, Judy, the town doctor, and her teenage assistant, Becca. Dutton quickly discovers the source of the infection spreading through his town, but before he has much chance to do anything about it, the military rushes in, canvassing the town and establishing a quarantine perimeter around. The townsfolk are all rounded up and tested, the sick separated from the healthy. But, as is so often the case, things go terribly wrong.

The Alamo Drafthouse in Austin, Texas is something of a Mecca for movie geeks. In addition to first-run theatrical fare, the Drafthouse regularly showcases cult, foreign, and classic films. Not only that, but they bring you food and beer during the film; satiating each one of your senses. Every Tuesday for the last four years, Alamo programmer Zack Carlson has hosted a late-night horror movie celebration called Terror Tuesday. If you are a lover of horror, both esoterically brilliantly and obscurely awful, Terror Tuesday was invented just for you. So I decided, since I am already a fixture at the Drafthouse, despite their best efforts to get rid of me, why not provide coverage for this weekly treat? The Terror Tuesday Report will dissect the movie shown as well as provide a barometer for the audience reaction to the film; as many of these films demand to be seen with an audience, this proves a vital component to the evening.

This week's film: The Hills Have Eyes.