Another Shaw Brothers kung fu movie released on Blu-ray, another review by yours truly. You can read it over at Cinema Sentries.
Category: Reviews
The Righteous (2021)
One of the joys of reviewing movies for Cinema Sentries is that I sometimes get a chance to see something I might not have watched were it not for them. Our cinematic world these days is so filled with multi-film universes and blockbuster franchises that smaller, independent films often get blocked out, when they are even made at all.
I recently got to see The Righteous, a movie I’d never heard of before the Blu-ray landed in my mailbox. I’m glad it did. Not because it is perfect, but because it at least tries for something different. Anyway, click here for my review.
Dreamin’ Songs – “World Leader Pretend” By R.E.M.
Our air conditioner is broken again, and as it was 86 degrees inside our home last night, the wife and I decided to take a trip to some fine air-conditioned air in the local Barnes and Noble. As most of our CDs are now locked inside cardboard boxes we were limited in our music choices for the drive.
We wound up choosing REMs major label debut, Green. I say we, but it should be noted that in fact, the decision was really nothing but my wife putting it in the CD player. I make that distinction as I probably would not have chosen that particular album. It turned out to be a good choice, as it is an excellent album. A fact I tend to forget.
I say all this to point out the sheer simplicity of understanding why “World Leader Pretend” floated back into my brain this early morning.
It is what I would call an underrated classic.“Pop Song” and “Stand” tend to get the glory from this album, or even the beautiful “You Are Everything” but “WLP” should get high praise as well.
Musically it is a little mid-tempo number with lilting guitars and a bit of a cadence on the drums. It sounds a little military – well military with background vocals by Mike Mills. The sound fits the lyrics which use a great deal of military language to discuss deeper, personal ideas.
It juxtaposes the concept of governments raising walls and preparing their defenses with the singer’s own emotional walls and defenses, proclaiming at last that he raised these walls and he will have to be “the one to knock it down.”
That’s a pretty universal sentiment and one that has struck large chords with me at various times in my own life when I raised my own defenses.
It is also, I believe, the only time REM has printed the lyrics of a song in their liner notes.
Transformers (2007)
It has been a good long while since I did a proper movie review. The blog has turned into something totally different than I had ever intended. Since the invention of the China connection my world has turned a little lopsided and haggard and busy as crap. I try to post regularly with snippets of interest from the web or youtube or the occasional life story, but proper reviews and really interesting stories have kind of fallen by the wayside. I hope that once China really gets going, I shall be able to get back into regular writing, for real.
All this is to say I am going to give a smaller version of a movie review for Transformers – call it movie review-lite.
Though we couldn’t really afford it, my wife and I decided to watch movies with friends for the Fourth of July celebration. My friend, Daniel, had his heart set on Transformers, whereas my wife wanted nothing but Ratatouille. Truth be told I would have rather seen the cartoon rats, but Daniel had already seen them and like a dutiful friend I saw the cartoon transforming automobiles.
Transformers was pretty much what I expected from a live-action movie based on an 80s toy product directed by Michael Bay – lots of action, little sensible plot.
The plot involved a group of warring robots who have come to Earth in search of this Rubix Cube that will ultimately change their war-torn planet into something nice again, or if you are a Decepticon (bad guys) it will destroy the planet or the good guys or something. It isn’t really made sure why they want the box, but darn do they want it.
To add a human element there is a story about a young, nerdy boy trying to get the popular hot chick. It works better than it ought to, but ultimately it is just filler until we get to the robot battles.
There is a very traditional Michael Bay subplot involving a soldier and his wife and his never-before-seen baby. They add absolutely nothing to the plot, are cardboard things, and only serve to allow Michael Bay to believe he can write real stories and for sentimental parents to cry a little bit in a movie about giant robots.
Oh and there is some conspiracy theory jumbo involving a top-secret government agency (with sadly, John Turturro appearing for a paycheck.)
The Transformers are pretty kicked arse though. They look super cool, they transform in really brilliant ways and they fight like mad. The fight scenes are well worth the price of admission although throughout most of the film I had no real idea who was fighting who as when the bots are transformed into humanish form, they look mostly like each other.
Hearing Peter Cullen as Optimus Prime was admittedly the bomb, even if I am a bigger GI Joe freak than Transformers.
It was worth watching and I’m glad I caught it on the big screen, though I still would have preferred the cartoon rats in Paris.
I jokingly said to my wife before going in that she was going to have a theatre full of screaming children, while I would have a theatre full of screaming middle-aged men. The fanboys were out in full, but it really made for a better experience overall.
First Thoughts On The White Stripes’ Icky Thump
I finally, um, obtained the new White Stripes album, Icky Thump. There has been some weird championing of it since it is (mostly) a return to their loud, blues/garage rock roots after moving into a lighter, more layered soundscape with their last album, Get Behind Me Satan. I say it is weird because when Get Behind Me Satan was slathered with a lot of high praise, but now it seems everyone has forgotten how much they loved that album and want nothing more than loud guitars.
Whatever, I really liked GBMS, and while I’m not the world’s biggest White Stripes fan, I tend to listen to it more than others. I’ve mentioned before how my middle-agedness has turned me a lot more mellow and thus the music I tend to listen to has much softer edges than the grunge/punk/alternative stuff I dug in my youth. While I dig the older, Rockin albums of the White Stripes, I really dug how they created a fuller, more rich sound with Satan.
With Icky Thump they have returned to a louder, more guitar-based sound (mostly as songs like “prickly thorn, but sweetly worn” are softer and more cuddly.) I’ve only given it a listen and a half, so I can’t really give it a full review, but I’m liking what I’m hearing.
Even in middle age I still like a little edgy guitar riff to throw my (ever-thinning) head about. As usual, Jack and Meg have put together a turn-to-eleven, slam up against each other rock fest. I dig Jack’s periodic talking blues pieces, even if I’m not exactly sure what the crap he’s talking about, and I like the more experimental sound collages.
I don’t think this will be replacing GBMS anytime soon, but it is a nice album to put on, crank up and pack my house to.
Concert Review: Wilco – Murat Theatre, Indianapolis, IN (06/15/07)
We had three tickets to see Wilco and only two people to go. A friend who belonged to the other ticket had to cancel at the last moment. I had posted to message boards and asked friends to come, but no one responded.
Free tickets to see one of the greatest live bands playing today and no one responded. I think I need to find new friends.
So we arrived at the venue early, hoping we might find some hapless soul willing to buy the one ticket. Almost immediately we found some guys on bikes with signs saying they were buying tickets. There was a little haggling, and I found myself on the losing end of that. Ten bucks and I was free one ticket. That’s a lot less than I paid, but a little more than nothing.
The Murat is a beautiful old theatre in downtown Indianapolis. Having arrived early to unload the ticket and having already done such, we walked into the entryway of the theatre to await the doors to open. Many folks were already there. An odd thing this was to me as we had assigned seats so there was literally no reason to arrive so early, but there we were.
Our earliness was paid off as a young man came out stating that the band had asked him take fan requests. My mind went racing. I was dying to come up with something obscure and unique – something that the band would see and love and no doubt talk about from the stage. Maybe even ask me to come on down and sing it with them.
Instead, I came up with something off the new album, something they would undoubtedly play even without my request. “Hate it Here” is possibly my favorite song off of Sky Blue Sky, and I was most anxious to hear those Stones riffs live.
Sitting back down I encouraged my wife to choose something but she’s shy about these things, and couldn’t come up with anything. I suggested “Outtasite (Outta mind)” off of an older album, Being There, and she stood up to make the request.
“No, wait,” I said, “pick something off of the Woody Guthrie tribute.” “What’s the name of the one with the repeat? Oh yes, it’s ‘Walt Whitman’s Niece,’ choose that one.”
Yes, I know that’s one that Billy Bragg sang lead on, but Wilco played most of the music and they did the backup parts, which would be awesome live with all the audience singing the repeat.
The wife goes and makes the request coming back with a puzzled look. A few minutes later she begins cursing herself, when I ask why she says, “Walt Whitman’s Knees.”
What?” I ask.
“I wrote the song down as ‘Walt Whitman’s Knees.’ I knew that wasn’t right when I wrote it but I couldn’t think of the right name.”
We laughed and laughed at that. I hoped, I prayed Tweedy would see it and laugh with the band and say something about my silly wife from the stage.
We had quite literally the last seats in the house – upper balcony, last row, very last seats stage left. My view was a little obstructed by an archway, but overall the stage was quite visible.
A band I had never heard of, Low, opened. I won’t say they were bad, but I won’t deny it either. I normally do my best to dig an opening band. I usually get very angry at the crowd when they talk through the opening act. This time, I was kind of with them.
It isn’t that the music wasn’t any good, it was they were in the wrong venue, opening for the wrong band. They had a very relaxed, ethereal feel – think Mazzy Star or Luna and you’ll come close. For the wide-open acoustics of the Murat, they sounded too muddled. When we’re all jazzed to hear the loud, ruckus of Wilco, relaxed and ethereal is not what we want, or not what I wanted anyway.
Luckily their set was short and Wilco came out with a fury. I tried writing down their setlist, but it was so dark in my little corner that I quickly realized there is no way I would be able to read my scratchings. And looking at them now, they are all a mess.
This is the tightest band in show business. Even though half the members have only been with the band a few short years, they play like a well-oiled machine. Nells Cline, the guitarist, is especially amazingly awesome. The guy simply tore it up. The roof was on fire, let me tell you.
They stuck primarily to songs off of their last three albums. I don’t know if this was because Tweedy likes his newer stuff more, of that most of the band hasn’t been on board for longer than those albums, or these are just the songs the fans prefer to hear. This fan would have appreciated some more older stuff, but I take what I can get.
From our in-the-rafter seats the sound was a little less than spectacular and I struggled to differentiate between some of the instruments, but the band was playing like Moses on fire. Enthusiasm oozed from everybody as they jumped and shook and moved like a giant, twitching snake.
About mid-show they played “Hate It Here” and I had to poke my wife with a little “they’re playing this for me” even though most likely they would have played it without my request. Still, it added a fun element to the show, which I would guess is the very reason they do the requests.
It was a darn fine version too, what with the big sing-along chorus and the fun lyrics about washing clothes and what-not. The whole show was filled with a nice little moment and fun sing-alongs. Although, every time I see Wilco I am reminded of how few of their lyrics I actually know.
I’m just not a lyrics guy. I have a terrible short-term memory and as such, I have difficulty remembering lyrics past the moment they are sung. Instead, I concentrate on the music and turn into one of those flailing arms to the beat of the guitar riff guys.
There was a lot of arm pumping this night. After a double encore with the surprise old album shot of “Outtasite (Outta Mind)” we went home happy.
They never did play “Walt Whitman’s Niece” and no one but me made fun of my wife’s mistake, but even so it was a darn fine night of music.
Setlist:
1. A Shot In The Arm
2. Side With The Seeds
3. You Are My Face
4. I Am Trying To Break Your Heart
5. Kamera
6. Handshake Drugs
7. War On War
8. Impossible Germany
9. Sky Blue Sky
10. Jesus, Etc.
11. Hate It Here
12. Walken
13. Shake It Off
14. I’m The Man Who Loves You
15. Hummingbird
Encore 1:
16. Sunken Treasure
17. Spiders (Kidsmoke)
Encore 2:
18. Heavy Metal Drummer
19. Outtasite (Outta Mind)
20. California Stars
Thanks to Wilcobase for the setlist.
Concert Review: Bill Monroe Bluegrass Festival Featuring IIIrd Tyme Out And Ralph Stanley, 2007
My wife and I have lived in Bloomington Indiana now for the last five years or so. While living here there are several things we have always planned to do: see an IU football game, not for the game (for no one wants to see the Hoosiers play football) but because my wife is a band geek, and she’d like to see the marching band perform. We’d like to go to a basketball game, as basketball is the one sport IU consistently does well. We feel we ought to see the Indy 500 and the Kentucky Derby just once, though neither of us can gather up any kind of excitement for that. And we always plan to attend the Bill Monroe bluegrass festival.
Until this week, we’ve seen exactly none of those things. Since we are headed to China in August, we finally decided to buckle down and attend the bluegrass festival. Even then, we had plans to attend every night of the eight-day festival, but due to problems of infinite proportions, we were only able to make it Tuesday and Saturday.
You could say bluegrass is in my blood, though I didn’t know it for many years. My great-uncle played with Dolly Parton when she was little, and my cousin plays guitar in Ricky Skaggs band. Most of my dad’s family plays some sort of instrument, and they say family reunions are a sight and sound to behold.
None of this information was actually known to me for many years. I thought we were a pretty boring family for most of my youth. In fact, I can remember my parents deciding to go to a bluegrass festival when I was in my early teens and I had to ask what the heck bluegrass was.
“It’s like country, but faster and with more twang,” Mom told me.
The Bill Monroe Bluegrass Festival is the oldest bluegrass festival in the world. It has been picking and a grinning for the last 41 years. Everyone who is anyone in bluegrass has played this stage. This year over 50 acts played morning, noon, and night for 8 straight days.
On Tuesday we saw Karl Shiflett, Anita Fisher, Bluegrass Strangers and IIIrd Tyme Out. It was a full day of fun, sun, and good music.
There were rows and rows of lawn chairs set up in front of the stage and we couldn’t quite figure out if they were all owned by individual concertgoers, or if they had been set up by the venue. They were all unmatched, but most of them were empty and they were perfectly set up. It seemed strange to me that so many people would have come in and set up their chairs in neat little rows and then abandoned them.
This worked perfectly on Tuesday, and we found great seats just a few rows back from the stage, and right in the middle.
IIIrd Tyme Out was the highlight of Tuesday. Russell Moore has some of the best vocals in bluegrass and the rest of the band can pick right along with him. They can play traditional bluegrass like the old folks, but aren’t afraid to add something new to the mix and update those old sounds. Plus they are a ton of fun to listen to and watch.
Saturday was much fuller than the Tuesday afternoon crowd, and we were all there to see one man, Dr Ralph Stanley. Legend is too small a word for the man. He is the living embodiment of bluegrass music. He is distinguished and incredible. A giant in a little man’s shoes.
We took seats again up close, but after a few songs, someone approached us stating that we were, in fact, in their chairs. Looking around and seeing how full the venue was getting, we decided to pull our own lawn chairs out of the car and sit to the side so as to not miss anything.
We saw very enjoyable performances from Alecia Nugent, Paul Williams, Jim Lauderdale, JD Crowe and of course Dr. Ralph Stanley. As I said though, the crowd was all holding their breath for Ralph Stanley. When the time finally came, and the announcement was made, we all went nuts.
For the first few songs Stanley didn’t sing a note. He allowed his band to play instrumentals and his guitarist sing a tune or two. I began to wonder if the good Dr. hadn’t fallen ill and couldn’t sing, or if he was too old to do much more than joke with the band between songs.
My worries were unfounded, it seems, as Stanley finally took center stage, and enchanted us all with his distinctive voice. His voice is not what I would ever call beautiful, it is certainly original, and it delivers a perfect old-timey sound. It roared and called out to the crowd on this night.
Stanley is a generous performer and spent much of his long set talking about the records his band mates and children have recently put out. Most of the band got to perform at least one song, and in a very sweet moment a little boy from the area came out and nervously belted out an old Stanley Brothers tune.
Even with three encores the crowd screamed and begged for more. Stanley closed with an a capella version of “O Death” that I believe must have stilled the entire state.
We left a little after 11. Kids were still playing ball and freeze tag, the food vendors were still churning out their unique brand of edibles, the stars were still shining brightly, and the music was still playing. But we were hot, covered in dirt and completely exhausted.
You could do worse things on a summer Saturday night in Indiana.
Concert Review: Ryan Adams, Paula Cole, Suzanne Vega, Charlie Louvin – Louisville, KY (05/19/07)
After the whole Ryan versus Gillian debacle, I had settled down into a wonderful Ryan Adams groove. I’ve been listening to his music for weeks and generally freaking out about seeing him. My mantra has been “I’m going to see Ryan Adams, I’m going to see Ryan Adams.” The world’s troubles melt away with these words.
We made a day of Louisville, eating some fine food at a Hookah bar, and digging through the record bins at Ear X-Tacy. The doors at the Brown Theatre opened at 6, so we arrived at about 4:30. We weren’t the first. Fanboys and girls abounded.
As a general rule, people tend to annoy me. As a solid, never-bending absolute truth, fanboys piss me off. I get fandom. I get solid adoration of an artist. I simply cannot understand slovenly devotion to a single musician. As we stood in the lobby waiting for the doors we had to stand the asinine fanboy conversations. One boy claimed he would not befriend anyone who was not a Ryan Adams fan. Another made the bold proclamation that the Eagles were better than the Beatles and the Stones, though all three really sucked and Ryan Adams blew them all away.
Someone, please school these boys.
In ways, the fanboys shaped my entire concert experience. We landed a seat in the third row, center, and the hardiest of fanboys were in front of us. I couldn’t help but gauge their reactions and observe their behavior.
Paula Cole started the show. I’ve never much cared for her music, but she carried herself well. The voice wavered from time to time, but the band backed her up sufficiently and it was a good time. After some new songs, and some very awkward talk where she proved herself way too aware of her time out of the spotlight, and the audience’s indifference to her come back she simply nailed “I Don’t Want to Wait.” I had never liked the song before, but it shimmered and glowed on this night.
The fanboys sang along, their faces tinged with irony and scoffing laughter. I may not like Paula, but I respect that she can write her own songs and have the balls to get up and sing them. With feeling.
Next was Charlie Louvin and he tore the roof off. He completely lives up to his legendary status. Even the fanboys were enjoying themselves, even if they were pretending that enjoyment was only in an ironic way.
Even with the irony and a few mocking laughs at his more sentimental songs, Louvin was the consummate professional. He noted that some of the young people might not understand his type of music, but if they listened closely, they just might have a good time anyway. During “Cash on the Barrelhead” he leaned forward inviting one particularly obnoxious fanboy onto the stage to sing along. It was a brilliant moment – embarrassing the fanboy without being vicious or mean, yet still staying within character.
Suzanne Vega was up next and I wondered if most of the audience even knew who she was. She was very much a total professional too. Where Paula Cole seemed too aware of the precariousness of trying to make a comeback in this business, Suzanne let it all roll off her shoulders. She seemed to be saying that she had never left the business, and while the fans may have slipped away, she was always around making her music. Her performance was as unique and quirky as ever. She did a few songs with just her and her bassist and it was beautiful. She closed out with “Luca” and “Tom’s Diner” and the house did seem to remember.
A new NY band, Vietnam hit the next spot. I won’t say they were bad, but they were not what we needed at that point. We were all exhausted and ready for nothing but Ryan Adams. They had their 70’s era Allman Brothers band schtick down pat. Except it wasn’t really schtick, but done completely seriously. It was all rock, no subtlety.
And then he came. Stools were set in a half circle towards the back of the stage. The lights were incredibly dim. Mood I guess. The Cardinals came and then Mr. Adams in a shower cap, hoodie, and dark sunglasses. The recently torn ligament and subsequent cast kept him from playing guitar, but his voice has never sounded better.
He played about half the new album, which hasn’t been released and I didn’t know, but it was all good. The record should be brilliant – kind of subdued and sad, more Heartbreaker than Cold Roses, but genius in the way only Ryan Adams can be.
Throughout everybody’s performances, there was trouble with the monitor speakers. Every performer complained about it and was followed by stagehands running around on stage for a bit. During Ryan’s first song, you could tell it wasn’t fixed for he pointed at the speaker then his finger went into the air dozens of times. By the second song, he had called a stagehand over to chew him out.
“Please don’t piss Ryan off,” Holly begged, for Ryan Adams is a bit notorious for walking off the stage early when he gets pissed. Pissed or not, the performance was magic.
The dim lights turned from blue to red and the shower cap came off. They played an Alice in Chains cover, “Down in a Hole” that turned the auditorium inside out. Just as I began to think this might be the most amazing concert experience of my life Ryan let out a “Thanks” and took off.
Twenty minutes and he’s gone.
Bastard. Son of a monkey. Words I cannot write for my mother might read.
Man, I know you have to keep up your eccentricities. I know it is part of your allure to pull this crap. But it is called being a professional. Did Charlie Louvin walk off because he couldn’t hear himself? Did Paula Cole or Suzane Vega? Man, the Vietnam guitarist just moved over to the one working monitor. We paid good money, drove long distances, and generally did what we could to see you perform. You should at least do your freaking job.
Much cursing ensued during the drive home. But then a fanboy posted videos, and I watched, I listened, I teared up just a little, and I have to say, I forgave.
“Goodnight Rose” – Forgive the lousy video quality, as I said the lighting was terribly dim. But the audio is good.
“Rip Off”
Cinderella (2006)
For as far back as I can remember I have loved horror movies. Growing up in the 80s I can remember begging my mother to let me see the slasher films of Freddie Kreuger, Jason, and Michael Myers. Mostly she said no, but I still managed to catch them on late-night cable TV. Later the voyeuristic, sick pleasures of real death films like Faces of Death became something of an underground scene at my school. In the decades since that time, I have continued in my love for horror and gore.
The slasher film seemed to go out of style sometime in the early 90s but came back in vogue a few years later with Scream and its winking, ironic sensibilities. Now we’ve got Asian horror and its significant lack of naked breasts but with plenty of extreme violence. This brings us to Cinderella.
I’m not exactly sure why this film is called Cinderella as there is nary a Prince Charming, a mouse, nor a pumpkin carriage to be found, but there is enough dark moodiness to have Cinderella and her stepsisters screaming for mercy.
The story revolves around Hyun-soo (Shin Se-Kyung) and her mother, Yoon-hee (Do Ji-Won), a plastic surgeon. Dear old Dr. Mom performs facelifts for all of Hyun-soo’s friends who are obsessed with ul-jjang (the ideal beauty), but before long things start going horribly wrong. The face-lifted friends begin having weird visions of their faces being clawed off, which leads them to do some pretty nasty stuff to themselves.
Hyun-soo also begins having visions that her face is a horrible wreck, and she hears voices claiming her own face is someone else’s.
The film is loaded with mood. Shadows abound, and unknown dark faces linger just out of focus in the background. Voices whisper strange and haunting things throughout. As an audience, we’re never quite sure what is going on at any time, but we can be pretty sure it’s eerie.
There are a few Asian horror movie clichés, and to be sure you see more than a few long black-haired girls creeping along. In the end, it feels more like a Romantic era melodrama than a horror film, but for what it lacks in originality and gore it makes up for in mood and social commentary.
Yeah, that’s right, I said social commentary. The film has a great deal to say about our perception of beauty and the extremes we will go through to achieve them. Hyun-soo and her friends, who have all undergone some form of cosmetic surgery, are young students. They haven’t really formed concrete personalities but are more than willing to change their appearance surgically to gain some warped sense of beauty.
In one chilling scene, two girls begin slicing their faces open with sculpting knives all the while whispering “I’ll make you pretty.” This mantra is repeated throughout the film. All anyone seems to care about is his or her physical beauty, and they are willing to do just about anything to achieve it. Take a quick look at our own magazines and television commercials it’s not hard to see how such a warped perception could easily be believed.
Unfortunately in its attempts to be a horror film, a melodrama, and a social commentary, the film falls a little short in all categories. It is stretched just a little too thin to be completely satisfying as any of them, yet it provides enough of each to make it well worth watching.
Slaughter Night (SL8N8) (2006)
The concept of adding critical blurbs to a movie poster, or DVD case is fascinating to me. PR people are able to take heated, loathing, and scathing reviews, pluck out one or two words (out of context), and make the worst movie sound like the greatest thing to ever hit the cinemas.
It was with this thought in my mind that I came to Slaughter Night, a movie so glorious that the only blurb they could find for its DVD cover is “A Whole Lot of Gore.” That’s it. Nothing about how amazing the director is, or how the story is new, fresh, or superb.
Gore. A whole lot of gore. I knew I was in for a treat then.
Hoping that maybe it was mainstream cinema that was finding this little Dutch slasher film a touch too nasty, I went to IMBD in search of fan-boy reviews. The summaries there were a little better. No one was raving about it, but the opinion was that the slashing was good and the story above par.
I should have listened to the cover.
Slaughter Night starts out with a bang. We’re treated to a flashback where some unseen psycho-killer has several kids trapped in an old house. Outside we see what must be police officers sneaking up to the house to save the day. But the killer continues on and before the kids can be rescued he slices off their heads and puts them on pikes. Save but one. Not exactly something to watch with Mom, but a pretty exciting way to start a horror flick.
Flash forward and we find Kristel (Victoria Koblenko)arguing with her father about dropping out of school to travel the world. Father figures she’s a smart kid and ought to stick it out, but before we can conclude the argument we’re treated to a pretty harrowing accident that made me think this was one of those new, terrible car commercials.
Kristel and her gang travel to Belgium to pick up a few of her father’s things. Seems he was working on a book that involved a local mining operation. He was especially interested in Andries Martiens (Robert Eleveld), the killer from the beginning of the flick. You see back in olden times, psycho-killers were given the opportunity to free themselves by taking on insanely dangerous missions underground. They were to detect explosive gasses in the mines, ignite them, and if they survived the explosion they were free to go. Apparently, Martiens was given such a deal, and it ended poorly. Dead underground, he now supposedly haunts the abandoned mines. At least this is what the mine tour guides like to say to scare the tourists with.
Of course, being a horror movie, the ghost is real, and he’s mad as hell.
Of course, our heroes take a tour underground.
Of course, bad things happen.
Slaughter Night is pretty by the books in terms of plot. From the opening murder, we know that baddie is going to be back. Once the cave comes into view, we know our characters are going down, and most of them will be whacked. In the end, we know the killer will be killed. That’s not even a spoiler for this type of film. In slasher films, the plot is usually irrelevant anyway. It’s the style that counts.
While Slaughter Night tries to give us plenty of style, it mostly falls flat. During the scary scenes, the director uses hand-held cameras that shake and move all over the place. This type of shaky cam seems to be in vogue these days with nearly everyone using it to create “mood.” Sometimes it’s effective as in films like Saving Private Ryan or United 93. Here it just distracts. It is especially annoying because the camera shakes violently during the death scenes, obscuring most of the gore. And what’s the point of watching a slasher flick if you can’t see all the slashing?
The lighting is also so murky you can hardly see the characters. Yes, it is in a cave so it should be dark. Yes, darkness can often be used to great effect in a horror film. But instead of adding tension and excitement to the film, it only caused me to be confused as to what was going on.
It’s not all bad. There are a couple of interesting murders (one involving partial decapitation by a shovel that’s pretty cool) and there are one or two scenes that made me jump and squirm.
I was happy to see the Dutch venturing into slasher territory. I’d even be excited to see another one, even if this one failed to ignite my fan-boy sensibilities. Gore-hounds and horror fanatics will find some interesting violence in this film, anybody else should stick with the Descent for their scary movie-in-a-cave fix.
themidnightcafe.org 