All of us at one point or another, though most likely when we were young, were told something along the lines of: “You can do anything if you put our mind to it.” It’s a common cliché, to be sure, but it’s meant to encourage us to never settle for anything less then exactly what we want. It suggests that no matter how impossible something seems or what obstacles stand in our way, if we try hard enough, we can achieve our dreams. While I highly doubt anyone who’s ever given such advice had in mind what Sheung does to achieve her dream, the sentiment is still there… just covered in blood and intestines.

Cheng Lai-sheung (Ho) is a young woman from a working class family still struggling to survive in Hong Kong’s unforgiving economic climate. She works two jobs, never spends frivolously despite opportunities to join colleagues for fun and has only one relationship outside of work, which is a superficial affair with a married man (Chan). She makes all of these sacrifices in the hopes that one day she’ll have saved enough money to purchase a decent flat with a view of the Victoria Harbour – a dream she’s held onto her whole life.

Through all of her struggles and countless pleas by her lender to look at more affordable properties, Sheung finally manages to find a flat she wants – her “dream home”. Just when she’s ready to close on the property – her deposit is already in place – the owners unexpectedly increase the asking price. But Sheung’s worked too hard to lose her dream once again, so she concocts a ruthless plan and executes it with merciless efficiency.

Dream Home is a slasher film with a social conscience. It’s also proof that original slasher films are still a possibility. It highlights several slasher conventions – nudity, gore, creative kills, etc. are all on display – yet social commentary and ambitious characterization elevate the film above the trash commonly tagged “slasher” these days.

The film’s statements on the inflated housing prices in Hong Kong are heavy-handed, but they’re no less poignant. A bit of text at the film’s onset shares statistics regarding the cost of housing in Hong Kong, and it paints a dire picture. Director Pang Ho Cheung is right to point his camera at this injustice, as a whole generation of Chinese are working towards a largely unachievable necessity. The reality of Sheung’s situation, which is complicated by additional struggles, also allows us to identify with her. But while we can identify with her because of the universal struggles she deals with – her back story gives the film an unexpected heart – we can’t always sympathize with her due to some of the decisions she makes.

Sheung, who’s played masterfully by Josie Ho, is the rare character that’s both protagonist and antagonist – victim and killer. The film’s fractured narrative highlights her dichotomy. We watch her kill several people in the course of one night while occasional flashbacks provide the answers to how she arrived at where she’s at. It’s a bold approach that allows Sheung to gain sympathy as the film plays, but a couple of decisions work against her: 1) she doesn’t kill the people directly responsible for her housing crisis – she kills innocents; and 2) the film’s ugliest kill is committed on a woman who’s particularly undeserving of her fate. The film recovers, however, and we’re quickly on Sheung’s side again as she rips through victim after victim.

And rip through victims she certainly does. Dream Home is incredibly gory with every kill imaginative and on display. It has it all: eye-popping, gut-spilling, board-impaling and plenty of other crimson-splashing mayhem. It’s obvious the filmmakers spent time trying to create kills we’ve never seen before, and their efforts pay off, as every kill is worthy of an audible “fuck yes.” Many of the kills are also made ugly by how Sheung fumbles her way through each one. She isn’t a sociopath nor does she want to kill these people, so she struggles.

With a common criticism of many slasher films being a lack of story, Dream Home hits the right balance of on-screen carnage and engaging story. As a result, it’s one of the best horror films to hit DVD this year.

***

The Thing arrives in theaters today. It’s a supposed prequel to John Carpenter’s 1982 classic. While you may want to praise Universal for its decision to forgo the current trend of remakes, I’d contend that their plan to write a prequel is simply an ingenious way for them to remake the original without having to attach the much-maligned “remake” tag to the film. Now, it’s not necessarily Universal’s fault – the original film dealt the cards they’re now playing.

The Thing 2011 may not be an official remake, but it’s so trapped by what the original established, it’s no different. All of the events in Carpenter’s film are preceded by the mysterious abandonment of a Norwegian camp elsewhere on Antarctica. The Thing 2011 details the struggle in the Norwegian camp. Consequently, before the first frame hits the screen, the setting is already established (Antarctica), the antagonist is already established (alien creature) and events are already established (an unknown creature is found, it assimilates to the animals or people within the camp and kills most or all of them in attempt to reach a larger population).

Do those events sounds familiar? It’s Carpenter’s original film!

I see only the bookends of the film significantly deviating from Carpenter’s film. It’ll explain the origins of the creature, which anyone with half a brain could guess (hint: its spaceship crashed), and the creature will survive in the end. I’m not saying there won’t be any interesting additions to what the original established – I’ve already read that there are indeed such additions – I’m just saying a remake would’ve done the same damn thing: keep the major plot points in place as subtle changes are folded in. I see the appeal of creating a prequel or a sequel to a cult classic, you re-kindle the flames of the original while igniting an entirely new film (see: Tron: Legacy). I just don’t believe the studio is making this film for the fans.

The worst part is Universal may have their cake and eat it too… so long as nobody reads reviews of this one.

***

Chloe and Attie are twins. They’re also elderly, and Attie’s health is clearly a problem. What’s unclear, however, is her actual medical condition or when onset occurred, as she’s now bedridden and unresponsive. Chloe takes care of her, however. The two appear to have only each other in their lives. Days are spent in silence. Attie slowly deteriorates in her bed while Chloe fills gaps between bed baths and injections with errands and crossword puzzles. It seems like a sad, quiet life for both.

But Attie isn’t as disabled as she appears. In fact, Attie possesses an extraordinary ability – a deadly ability – and it redefines her relationship with her sister entirely.

***

Director Scooter Corkle establishes a slow-burn approach with his short’s quiet creepiness. Dialogue is minimal – a few sentences perforate the silence – and the film swims in pools of blue, which makes its bleak and almost hopeless tone all the more palpable. It’s an effective short, and an even more effective film teaser. Questions about the sisters abound. Who are they? Why does Attie use her ability? How did she obtain it? Who’s a burden to who? Does Chloe care for her out of unconditional love? Or does she care for her out of fear for what Attie might do to her? These questions have answers, but whether or not we ever see them is in doubt right now.

Corkle wants to turn his award-winning short into a full-length feature film, but he needs help to do so – money, to be specific. Joyce and Jacqueline Robbins, Chloe and Attie, respectively, are also behind the campaign. When you pledge a certain amount of money via Kickstarter, you’ll receive an opportunity to actually Skype with the elderly duo… among other opportunities and gifts. It’s all pretty cool, especially when all my grandma wants to do is go to the casino or play cards.

I don’t usually mention any of the numerous films looking for financing, but I thought his short was worthy of a post – you can decide whether or not it’s worthy of your cash.

October 21st is the Kickstarter deadline and roughly $1500 is still needed. Check out the film’s Kickstarter page and keep track of its development on Facebook.

***

I’m fairly excited for tonight’s premiere of American Horror Story on FX. It’s an odd excitement, however. I wasn’t a fan of Nip/Tuck or Glee – the other series from the creative team of Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk – but I’m still anticipating tonight’s pilot episode. Part of this has to do with the fact it’s a “psycho-sexual thriller,” but I think a bigger part has to do with the network behind the project. FX is edgy. Whether it’s a comedy like Always Sunny in Philadelphia and Louie or dramas like The Shield and Sons of Anarchy – the network’s shown to choose its original programming well. I’ll make sure to check out any series FX decides to put its money behind.

Truth be told, however, I actually don’t know a damn thing about American Horror Story. I’ve done this mostly on purpose, as I’ve tried to sequester myself from news about the series, which is readily available on any and every media website. I haven’t read about it other than its completely vague premise, I haven’t watched the first 5 minutes now available online and I haven’t even seen many of its ever-increasing TV spots, which couldn’t be accused of giving away too much anyway. The only thing I know about the series is that my ass will be parked on the couch (with a bag of edible, gummy creature within arms reach) tonight at 9 PM Central.

What say you?

Six years ago NASA discovered the possibility of alien life within our solar system. A probe was quickly sent out to collect samples, but it crashed upon re-entry in Central America. Soon after, new life forms began to appear. In an effort to limit the destruction that resulted from these creatures unexpected arrival, half of Mexico was quarentined as an “infected zone” where the creatures would be contained. The US and Mexican military now struggle to keep the massive creatures in the area.

With the creatures and the “infected zone” creating problems, Andrew (McNairy), a photographer, is sent to retrieve his boss’ daughter, Samantha (Able), who injured her arm while in Central America. Andrew resents being forced to “babysit” Sam as she tries to get home, but he does as he’s asked – everyone has to make a living. And it’s not as though it’s a difficult assignment: take a train to the coast and board a ferry home. But nothing is as easy as it should be in a world where enormous, alien creatures exist.

Monsters is Gareth Edwards’ film, as he’s both writer and director. While his script’s sufficient – it meanders a bit and never develops his characters – his direction is superb. He basically walked around Central America with his leads, who are pretty much the only “actors” in the film, capturing the scenery and culture, and asking people if they’d like to be in his film. While he creates a genuine world for his characters, he doesn’t lean much on science fiction. Yes, alien creatures have crashed on our planet, which is a concept that’s spun many a sci-fi yarn, but they’re presence is small and more metaphorical than anything else.

Edwards uses the creatures to make several social and political statements (immigration, foreign-policy, etc.). He’s occasionally heavy-handed with his comments, but he’s never preachy. The creatures are also mostly an omnipresent threat heard bellowing from within the dense jungle. They could’ve actually been replaced by any type of crisis (i.e. civil unrest, terrorist attack, natural disaster, etc.) that would’ve forced the protagonists together, as Monsters is more about their relationship than the creatures. This is a dramatic romance in disguise where the creatures provide the context for Andrew and Samantha to be together.

But the banality of the creatures existence works both for and against the film. The creatures roar from the jungle at all hours, the “infected zone” is a constant reminder, fences and walls are everywhere and the military’s presence is strong. Yet, people are surprisingly well adjusted to all of this. Life simply carries on like any other developing, war-torn area: poverty is widespread and life is hard. It’s a believable world for the creatures to exist. But the lack of creatures on-screen and the relative normalcy of the world grounds the majority of the film to a point where I felt like I was just watching a run-of-the-mill love story unfold. Credit Scoot McNairy’s and Whitney Able’s low-key performances, however, for keeping their oil-and-water characters from becoming full-blown clichés, but a little more depth to them could’ve made the film’s mid-section much more eventful.

It isn’t until the third act before Edwards finally allows his creatures and his characters to affect each other in a way entirely unique to his vision. Their interaction also offers insight into his ultimate intent with this project. This is a human drama, and even though the moment involves alien creatures, it’s a very human moment. I don’t want to spoil anything, but it’s a beautiful moment in a film where memorable moments are few and far between. I just felt it came a little too late.

Monsters is okay for what it is – a love story with incredibly mild sci-fi overtones – but a monster movie it is not.

Director: Donald G. Jackson & R.J. Kizer
Writer: Randall Frakes
Cast: Roddy Piper, Sandhal Bergman, Cec Verrell, Rory Calhoun, Nicolas Worth, Brian Frank & William Smith
Studio: Anchor Bay
Special Features: Commentary & Trailer

A film is a combination of story and execution – its story should be worth telling and its telling should be done competently. While these two elements usually need to be “good” for a film to be “good,” sometimes when one area is especially inspired, people will overlook shortcomings in the other. Hatchet’s over-the-top execution elevated its same old slasher premise while Saw broke the mold with its story despite its shabby execution. Hell Comes to Frogtown isn’t well-executed on really any level – its budget also holds it back from what it could’ve been – but it’s ridiculous story still offers some entertainment.

In a post-apocalyptic wasteland where nuclear war has decimated the world’s population, people are scarce – fertile people are scarcer. Med-Tech is a division of the government with the specific focus on re-populating the country, and they’ve just found a man with the highest sperm count they’ve ever seen: Sam Hell (Piper).

But nuclear fallout has also created a race of mutant frogs.

Despite the government having successfully herded them onto reservations, Commander Toty (Frank) has managed to capture several fertile women for his harem. Now forced into a contract with the US government in exchange for immunity from past transgression, Hell, who’s accompanied by Med-Tech’s Spangle (Bergman) and Centinella (Verrell), must infiltrate Frogtown and free the captive women so he may eventually impregnate them.

Hell Comes to Frogtown is the type of film that shouldn’t need a review. Now, I’ll gladly admit I’m the type of guy that could watch Randy Piper spread his seed one woman at a time – can you imagine the glorious, golden-haired, musclebound, wildly overacting progeny he’d make? – but not everyone is cut from this cloth (how I pity you all). The way I see it, though – you’re either frothing at the mouth to see the film by the time you finish the above synopsis or you’re not. It’s that simple, because this is the element the film has going for it: its story. I will concede that it’s a completely absurd one, but to a segment of the population, which I’m proudly a part of, it’s this kind of absurdity that’s a hell of a lot of fun to watch. Other films may focus on the struggles of re-populating the world following an apocalyptic event, but no film is as wild in its approach to that idea as Hell Comes to Frogtown.

And that’s why despite the film’s stumbles in execution – its script is seriously flawed – it skates by on its ludicrous premise and B-movie qualities. It’s buoyed by frequent tits and ass, which the director points out in the commentary, but I’m not sure when that’s ever been a problem? Sandhal Bergman, who you should recognize as Valeria in Conan the Barbarian, is simply gorgeous (her glasses are not however) while the equally exquisite Cec Verrell strips down to experience Sam’s legendary reputation. It’s all done a little awkwardly yet it’s shamelessly entertaining. The dialogue also proves to be awkward in certain scenes like when Spangle says, “Stop. Save yourself for the fertiles,” and Sam replies, “I have enough.” While that sounds like a benign statement, you eventually understand he’s talking about his spunk – a creepy realization to be sure. But the film actually stretches its budget a surprisingly long ways with descent prosthetic effects, though they show their age in 2011, and an old refinery appropriately serving as the dark and dangerous Frogtown.

Director: Anders Banke
Writer: Daniel Ojanlatava & Pidde Andersson
Cast: Grete Havnesköld, Petra Nielsen, Carl-Åke Eriksson, Emma T. Åberg & Jonas Karlström
Studio: Wellspring Media
Special Features: Frostbitten: Behind the Scenes, Deleted Scenes, Bloopers & Trailer

I’m not a fan of the “horror comedy” because they typically have a muddled tone and are neither scary nor funny. Frostbitten, which is billed as Sweden’s first vampire film, is a descent “horror comedy.” It still suffers from the above issues, but it has charm as a self-aware vampire pic. It identifies several vampire conventions and uses them as punchlines. It’s funny and endears itself enough to horror fans to make it a worthwhile watch despite its fluctuating tone and lack of traditional scares.

In Ukraine, 1944, a group of soldiers separated from their platoon try to seek refuge from the cold. When they locate an abandoned shelter deep in the forest, they decide to hole up for the night. But something isn’t quite right. The stove’s still hot and no snow is cleared away from the doors or windows. So how did the former occupants get out?

They didn’t.

Now, decades later, Saga (Havnesköld) and her mother Annika (Nielsen) are relocating to a small Lapland town so Annika can work alongside famous geneticist Gerhard Beckert (Eriksson). They’ve arrived just as the town is about to experience a month of perpetual darkness. As both try to adjust to their new home, Saga meets a quirky friend, Vega (Åberg), while Annika becomes intrigued by Beckert and his only patient, a young coma victim whom he treats with mysterious red pills. But Prof. Beckert is no professor and his red pills are no medicine.

Frostbitten does a lot right. It’s biggest success is the fact it’s actually a funny film. Now, “funny” is an entirely subjective term, so some may not find it consistently funny, but I bet many will find it funny enough. Its laughs don’t rely on goofy slapstick or one-liners from a cliché stoner or something – they’re subtle and smart. Sebastian’s subplot, which follows his transformation to a vampire while at dinner with his girlfriend’s parents, highlights the problematic nature of her dad’s profession and that night’s entrée, among other things. But it’s a gruesome garden gnome kill that not only delivers arguably the biggest laugh but is also a perfect example of the film’s black humor. I didn’t care for all its laughs, however. Sebastian’s ability to hear his girlfriend’s dog speak seems “silly” in a mostly genuine film and other jokes were dated, at least here in the US. One guy says, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” while two others discuss the drummers of Iron Maiden and Def Leppard. Now, as a fellow metal fan, I’ve had too many discussions on drummers of 80s metal bands myself, and it’s not like it takes anything away from the film. It’s just one of several things that make the film feel old.

The film also uses three separate narratives to keep its energy up. Once all of the characters and the evening’s party are in place, the narrative fractures then weaves in and out of three storylines for the rest of the film. It’s a bit too jumpy to start as it bounces around establishing each narrative, and Banke’s use of several wipes and fades also add to the dated feel of the film (Star Wars much?), but the cutting in and out carries the film to a rather abrupt conclusion. The tone of each narrative is also different. Annika’s dealings with Prof. Beckert is mostly serious, though underdeveloped, while Sebastian’s dinner and Saga’s party are more lighthearted and funny. It almost feels like they wrote a vampire anthology, but decided to weave them all together later in the editing room. But as I said to start, Frostbitten is actually funny, so the uneven tone is easier to overlook than when a film’s uneven and not funny.

I also must comment on the effects, which are about the right mix of practical prosthetics and CGI. There are a couple of scenes towards the end where the CGI stands out more, but it’s a mostly fluid use of the technology. The portrayal of the head vampire as an ancient, bloodthirsty monster once again was nice, but I didn’t understand why they went with the 30 Days of Night scenario. Most of the events either take place, or could’ve taken place, in one night (I’ll assume the party in the film isn’t a noon kegger while everybody’s parents were at work). Other issues like rate of infection shouldn’t be considered with two critical an eye either.

Ultimately, Frostbitten does more right than wrong with smart and funny tweaks to the well-worn vampire conventions. I’d recommend it with the caveat that humor is entirely subjective.

Director: Stevan Mena
Writer: Stevan Mena
Cast: Alexandra Daddario, Brett Rickaby, Michael Biehn, Spencer List, Nolan Gerard Funk, Kathryn Meisle & Peyton List
Studio: Anchor Bay

Bereavement, which is a prequel to Malevolence, Stevan Mena’s 2004 slasher, is essentially an origin story. It explains how the killer in Malevolence came to exist, and it’s an interesting yet occasionally muddled story. Mena clearly has ambition for his project – a third film in the series is apparently in the works – but this film is slightly too ambitious. There is clearly no shortage of ideas Mena wants to explore, and many of those ideas are smart and intriguing, but the addition of some unnecessary narratives kept a good film from being great.

In the winter of 1989 in the small town of Minersville, Pennsylvania, six-year-old Martin Bristol is kidnapped by Graham Sutter (Rickaby). He’s intrigued by Martin’s calmness and the fact he doesn’t feel painful sensations – a condition known as CIPA. He decides Martin is a good prospect to “learn the business” and forces him to watch as he brings victims back to his home and dispatches them one by one…

Five years after Martin’s abduction, Allison (Daddario) moves in with her uncle Jonathan (Biehn) and his family when her parents die in a car accident. One day while jogging by the old Sutter Meat & Poultry plant, she sees a boy peering through a window. She asks her uncle about the boy, but he’s dismissive of the experience. As she continues to settle into her new surroundings – splitting her time between her little niece Wendy and a local guy, Billy – the boy she saw that day never leaves her mind. When she finally sees him again, she tries to talk to him but is unwittingly drawn into the sadistic world of Sutter and his reluctant protégé.

Many of the concepts Stevan Mena interjects into Bereavement are interesting. Nature vs. Nurture – the debate whether one’s character is inherent or the result of outside influences – is the most prominent (made obvious by a high school lecture on the concept). I was also intrigued by Sutter’s psychosis, which I’ll leave to the film to disclose. Mena adds a little religious satire to further layer his motivations, and while I’ll concede it’s all a cocktail of Norman Bates and Leatherface, I still find it a compelling and completely plausible one, which is more than you typically receive from a film like this..

Mena’s direction is also competent, as he handles subtle, atmospheric development and lively chase sequences with skill and a deadly serious tone. He captures the sparse countryside where screens go unheard for miles, and his set pieces feel authentic and add to the realism he aims to achieve. Brett Rickaby also clearly relishes his role as Sutter, chewing up his scenes as a man driven to murder by the sins of his past. He’s a pleasure to watch, and the rest of the cast serve adequately in their roles as well.

It seems the script went under a bit work and several scenes were cut from the film. In his commentary, Mena addresses these revisions, talks about the psychology of his characters and helps clarify his intent – it’s a must listen. He even recognizes the problem with how Allison enters Sutter’s home – the biggest “Why the fuck did she do that?” moment in the film. It turns out the original scene he wrote was more plausible – she walks into his home only a little before the floor collapses and she is suddenly trapped in his basement – but he had to re-write it on the fly due to technical issues with the collapse. He defends the scene as is, but what is he supposed to do at this point?

But his film simply has too many narratives. We have Martin’s abduction and slow development as a killer, Sutter’s brutal childhood and subsequent psychosis, which is plenty convoluted by itself, Billy’s past and drunken father and Allison’s blossoming relationships with her uncle and her interest in Billy. It’s all structured fairly coherently for how much is going on, but much of it is unnecessary and clouds what the film is truly about: Martin. This film should be about the birth of a killer, and it is, but a busty, next-door neighbor gets herself into trouble along the way, and I’ve already seen that film a bunch of times before. I would’ve rather seen Mena focus more on Sutter’s psychosis, which had a lot of unique and interesting layers to explore, and its influence on Martin rather than develop his eventual victims (Billy’s entire subplot should’ve also been completely removed from the film).

Overall, Bereavement is decent. It’s ambitions prove to be a double-edged sword, but fans of psychological thrillers and slasher films alike should find plenty to love.

The most dangerous thing is to be alive.

Director: Jim Mickle
Writer: Nick Damici & Jim Mickle
Cast: Nick Damici, Connor Paolo, Kelly McGillis, Daniel Harris & Michael Cerveris
Studio: Dark Sky Films
Special Features: Two Commentary Tracks, Going for the Throat: The Making of Stake Land, Character Prequel Films, Video Diaries & Toronto International Film Festival Q&A Footage

Stake Land is as frustrating a film as I’ve seen in a while. Part of the reason is because it’s been hyped since it was being screened on the festival circuit, but the bigger part is because I understand why people praise it, yet I can’t seem to appreciate it for those reasons. I definitely like the film, but I wouldn’t say it’s the “American horror film of the year” or the “best vampire movie in years.” I would say it’s a painfully slow film that still manages to do a lot right despite its pacing and lack of character development.

America is no more. A vampire pandemic has spread across the country, and for survivors, life is hard. Only small pockets of people remain. On top of all this, the Brotherhood, a violent group of fanatic fundamentalists, have sprung up in the wake of the apocalypse – it’s not dangerous just at night.

On a rainy night, a family’s butchered on their farm by a vampire. As a last request, the father asks Mister (Damici), the stoic vampire hunter that found their farm and killed their attacker, to take and protect his teenage son, Martin (Paolo). With Mister and Martin now together, and as Martin learns to survive in a world where nothing is easy, they travel from lockdown to lockdown as they make their way north to a rumored safe haven known as New Eden.

Stake Land is esthetically beautiful. The cinematography captures the protagonists journey from the warm, sunny fields down south to the cold, mountainous woodlands up north (the isolation also sets in better the further north they travel – vampire or not, people don’t like chilly weather). The “lockdowns,” which are small, secured towns, seem genuinely lived in, and the entire post-apocalyptic world feels authentic. It has Western-y vibe I like where the “hero and his sidekick” ride in, partake in a little booze and possible prostitution, and ride out. It’s full of bartering and small establishments, and Mister is truly seen as a hero, flashing the bag of fangs he’s collected and receiving his due respect. With all of this, director Jim Mickle creates a low-budget, post-apocalyptic dystopia that’s easy to buy into – a feat by itself.

In many ways this is also an optimistic film. Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s a largely bleak affair, but it has spots where a little hope emerges. People measure time by their last encounter with a vampire or the equally deadly Brotherhood, but they still find moments of happiness where all the outside threats fade away. When Belle (Harris) stands alone in a dark tavern slowly rubbing her swollen belly, it’s a sad yet hopeful moment – the entire film embodies this mix of emotions. The vampires are also a welcome and entirely necessary departure from the pale, gothic heartthrobs everyone’s wife or girlfriend wants to bang these days. They’re unintelligent and driven by a need to feed (sorta zombie-ish), but they’re the savage and beastly horrors the film needs. Jeff Grace’s score is another huge success. It’s understated by itself with its big, brassy swells few and far between, but it serves as a beautiful accompaniment to the film.

But a film starts with its characters. While Nick Damici, who’s mere presence has gravity, and Connor Paolo perform well in their roles, I didn’t care much for Mister and Martin. I thought their establishment was immediate – Mister’s a gruff drifter with a heart of gold, and Martin’s a boy becoming a man – but all of the silence left little opportunity for any depth to emerge. Too many interactions consisted of quick glances across empty rooms or car rides being propelled by different variations of the same voiceover. And to this last point, the voiceovers by Martin made it it seem like I was being told about shit more than I was being shown it. When you add in the film’s tedious pace, I was actually bored by it all on several occasions. I know people loved the film and could settle into its post-apocalyptic isolation, but I simply couldn’t despite my best attempts.

So, with all of the above established, I’m actually disappointed by the fact l “ike” not “love” Stake Land. I’ve added it to my Netflix queue in the hopes it’ll show up in a few months or so and make a bigger impression. In the meantime, I’d recommend it, but if you’re a little bored when it’s all said and done, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Drirector: Maurice Devereaux
Writer: Maurice Devereaux
Cast: Iloria Elkin, Nicholas Wright, Robin Wilcock, Emily Shelton, Neil Napier, John Vamvas, Nina Fillis, Tim Rozon, Danny Blanco Hall & Joan McBride
Studio: Critical Mass
Special Features: Making of, Commentary, Q & A at FantasticFest, Deleted Scenes & TV Ad

Religion doesn’t scare me – the religious do. Religion without the religious is simply a book of stories and suggestions. But religious leaders sometimes pervert religion so they can manipulate people, and people sometimes blindly do what they’re asked. Obviously, 9/11 is one form of this manipulation, but quoting the Bible in attack of gay marriage is surely another. End of the Line uses religious themes, without beating that long dead horse, to create a nifty little film where the religious have to spill a little blood as they spread the faith.

Karen (Elkin) is a psychiatric nurse at the end of a long day filled with the delusions and paranoid rants of her patients when she’s told of a former patient’s suicide. Troubled by the news but her shift complete, she walks to the subway for her commute home where she finds two other men waiting for the train. When Patrick (Wilcock), a creepy sleazebag, hits on her, the other man, Mike (Wright), steps in pretending to be an old friend. Appreciative but not looking to meet anyone, Karen sits by herself on the train wanting only a quiet ride home. She gets one too up until someone hits the emergency stop button and the subway screeches to a halt mid-route.

Without clear communication as to what the problem is, the passengers eventually start to look for answers. As some of them come together and others wander off, Karen hears tapping and sees her former patient outside her window. And it’s not the first time she’s seen her that night. The image disturbs her, but before she can recover, several passengers receive a synchronized text. Crucifixes suddenly become daggers, the religious become murderers and the night becomes bloody.

End of the Line is a surprisingly decent film despite the fact it’s all a little rough around the edges. Sure, the script could use a bit more polish, but it’s sufficient – just as everything else in the film. The dialogue is a bit spotty like when Neil suggests they use the bathroom if they have too, and then announces he has to take a “dump.” While the line is horribly out of place tonally, which writer and director Maurice Devereaux admits, it’s tolerable, as are the performances, which hover around “good enough.” But the underground location, the really well-executed jump scares, the gory and realistic kills (even though the daggers look like plastic toys) and the overall concept elevates the film above a lot of killer cult/religious fanatic films out there.

Devereaux’s religious themes are heavy-handed – allegory is nowhere – but it never feels like Bible bashing is his main objective. He clearly takes shots at religious fanaticism, but his Voice of Eternal Hope members feel at least somewhat grounded. I’ve read criticisms of their portrayal as too wide-eyed and crazy, but the frightening juxtaposition of their joyous mood and their horrible actions is striking. They’re happy to save the souls of these people even though they must commit murder. It’s like a big church activity, in fact, as members pray and sing hymns while they stalk the other passengers in the tunnels. In their minds they’re not horrible people because they’re not committing a horrible act – they’re offering salvation. There’s a powerful scene in the film where the wife of a family of Hope members is happy they’re all together as they slowly bleed out on the dirty floor. So while it might be a slightly over-the-top depiction of such a mindset, it’s an eerie and unsettling one.

When the Hope members are eventually identified as the threat, a little of the cat and mouse suspense you’d expect from such a scenario is felt as they try to “save” the other passengers, but the film isn’t overly suspenseful and its pacing doesn’t help. The survivors hunker down a couple of times to figure out what to do next, and the second act feels sluggish as a result. Ultimately, as bodies litter the tunnels, Devereaux makes one last statement with the conclusion of his film, and he leaves it open to interpretation. I don’t want to spoil anything so I won’t say much, but I feel he left enough clues in the film, especially in one conversation between Karen and Mike, to identify his intent behind the ending. And, personally, I thought it was a smart and effective way to end the film regardless of what you make of it.

End of the Line shouldn’t be viewed with a razor-sharp critical eye, but it’s a surprisingly solid independent film in a vast landfill of trash.