Film Reviews by NP

David Greene's beautifully directed film starring Jenny Agutter as 14-year-old Wynne has been described as a horror, but I would suggest it's really a dark - a very dark - coming-of-age film.

Agutter is as charming as she always is, giving her typically unaffected, honest performance as an adolescent fascinated by, and in love with, her stepbrother. His name is George, he is played by Bryan Marshall, and he is twice her age. Annoyingly, Wynne's friend Corinne (Claire Sutcliffe)may also have designs on the rugged charmer. Simon Ward, who was a prolific film and television actor around this time, is also on hand as the unnamed Conductor.

This is one of those films that could only really exist in the late '60s/early '70s. Naivety is mixed with sexuality, and even when under the influence of excessive alcohol, do the youngsters ramble in perfectly received English. It's a charming story in many ways, despite the dark twists and turns it takes, and there's a genuine sense of jeopardy towards the end.

It's strange: I can go through a phase of watching horror films that actually debilitate because of their lack of originality. They tell the same variations of stories, featuring a gang of deeply unpleasant people being stalked by something horrible, or a house giving up its dark secrets to the latest happily married non-entities to have moved in. It sometimes makes me wonder why I love horror so much when the limitations film-makers impose upon themselves result in such mediocrity.

And then, I can watch a run of utter gems. Often low-budget, these are films with something original to say, or at least an original way of presenting an established idea. 'The Ghoul' is one such refreshing example – at times I fought to follow the narrative because I didn't want to lose the thread of interest being weaved around events.

This is a challenging, thought-provoking story. It's far more than just 'is the horror real, or just in the mind?'

'Horror Hospital' is a cheap and very cheerful slice of sexy, early '70s horror sleaze. It's probably the most polished director Anthony Balch made before his untimely death at the age of 42 in 1980. It was also the final acting job for Vanessa Shaw (Judy) who seems to have retired after this.

The cast is impressive. Robin Askwith - whose roles in often hugely un-PC fare such as 'Bless This House', 'Confessions of a Window Cleaner' and 'Carry On, Girls' haven't stifled a prolific career - plays Jason, a true-to-form randy twit who emerges as a kind of hero toward the end (his first words to Judy are, 'Relax, I'm not gonna rape you'). Skip Martin, fresh from Hammer's 'Vampire Circus', is Frederick. Also starring are Eileen Pollock, Dennis Price and top-billed Michael Gough, who puts far more effort into his role as Dr Storm than he did for Hammer's ground-breaking 'Dracula'. You might wonder what these people are doing in gory nonsense like this among a supporting cast of mostly non-actors, but the fact remains - it's gruesomely good fun.

'November' is based on the novel 'Rehepapp' by Andrus Kivirähk and is awash with elements from pagan Estonian folklore. Presented in stark but rich black and white, extraordinary images and set-pieces whirl and skim past us unsuspecting viewers. Underneath all this, the actual story is pretty thin, but that really isn't a consideration. The cinematography is exceptional and squeezes every last drop out of the dark fairy-tale atmosphere.

The plot concerns Liina (Rea Lest) and her patient attempts to attract handsome Hans (Jörgen Liik). However, this is no mere story of love and longing. Mythical-looking, surreal creatures made from wood, metal and bone - Kratts - are obliging and loyal, unsettling and strangely loveable. You won't exactly want one for Christmas, but they have a strange appeal.

At just shy of two hours, 'November' asks the audience to be enthralled by its weirdness for a long time, but that is never really a problem; you don't want to leave until the story is done.

In the UK's comedy 'The Office', Patrick Baladi excelled at being the company heart-throb and hatchet man, someone who could end your career with a smug smile. As Douglas West at one point, he is rather less sympathetic, only realising the folly of his ways whilst stranded in a creepy windmill with a group of others. He is possibly the best-known actor in a uniformly terrific - and diverse - cast.

Boarding a bus for the guided tour of Holland, the group we are to spend the following 85 minutes with are a motley, flawed bunch - Abe (Bart Klever) the guide's weary manner seems to betray something more about him than is immediately apparent. As for his passengers - all of them have a story to tell. Some of them would rather keep it to themselves, but there are no secrets on the 'Happy Holland Tour'.

Nick Jongerius who writes and directs, has guided us on a terrific journey and even at the film's close, the journey shows no real sign of ending, which is disconcerting for any who board the bus. Happily, storytelling comes first here, and the effects that occasionally embellish it are physical for the most part, rather than CGI. Highly recommended. My score is 9 out of 10.

There was a slew of grim kitchen sink dramas around the '60s and '70s in British cinema, and they were often done extremely well. Such is the case here with Ken Loach and David Mercer's superficially simple story of Janice, played by Sandy Ratcliff. There might be said to be extra poignancy given that Ratcliff had a public battle with her own demons following her successful stint on BBC1's EastEnders years later. As Janice, she conveys heart-breakingly the fragility and difficult journey she faces - as well as the battles with those around her.

Her parents, a suitably gruff Bill Dean and Grace Cave (the characters are not given names, which distances them from the audience further) have moments when they appear genuinely to care for their daughter, but for the most part, they are monstrous in their belittlement and dismissal of her, whilst clinging onto their perceived decency and morals; the ultimate hypocrites. Non-conformist boyfriend Tim (Malcolm Tierney) genuinely wants to look after Jan, but has no concept of seeing beyond his own sense of rebellion. Those in charge of the hospital division interested in offering care for the girl are themselves at the mercy of cut-throat penny pinchers more concerned with ticking boxes and self-promotion than actually listening to what's going on.

Jan is at everyone's mercy, and it is difficult to watch her decline. The film ends midway through a scene, offering us no hope of any answers. We'd like to think she'll be alright. Wouldn't we?

Very powerful. Almost too much so at times. Not based on a true story; this is based on too many true stories. Times have changed since the early '70s of course, but the issues still remain, and so do the outside elements that exacerbate them. My score is 9 out of 10.

Hey.

The characters we meet here are predominantly female, all respectably attractive and all hiding their own troubles. Where every sentence, every greeting, every question, begins with ‘hey.’

Everyone seems to walk on tiptoes around each other, so as not to unleash the deeper emotions that seem to be bubbling under the surface. Pretty young Betsy (Jessica Alexander) seems to have a supernatural experience we’re not privy to, and mum Holly (Sienna Guillory) and sis Isabelle (Ruby Stokes) don’t know how to cope with her behaviour. Lots of close-ups of mouths, eating, regurgitating. Shopping. Sitting in silence. A bit of pouting. Tedium occurs, and not just between the characters.

Hey. This is a world where we’re all a bit stoned, all a bit in touch with our feelings (characters like this used to be called Sloane Rangers). That’s, like, cool, of course, but it makes for pretty dull viewing. There are no real conversations here, just characters talking about themselves whilst those around them try desperately, and earnestly, to ‘understand’. This goes on for 97 long minutes. Lindsay Duncan as June sweeps in and speaks a bit of sense; pity she doesn’t hang around long.

Hey. I probably don’t ‘get’ it: that’s what the problem is. ‘Entitled middle-class white girls’ even get a mention here, before the navel-gazing, wistful piano music slips in.

This simply isn’t my kind of film. It seems strangely self-congratulatory as if everyone concerned is convinced something profound is being created. If it appeals, great, but it’s definitely an acquired taste. My score is 3 out of 10.

In the 1980s, horror films became less about telling stories and more about furthering a franchise. The Freddies, the Jasons and the Michaels were reduced from effective scene-stealers to cartoon figures designed to appeal to as wide a demographic as could bring in money. Refreshing then, to find any genre film from that decade unbleamished by such cynical exploitation.

'Stage Fright' resurrects the Giallo genre, so it might be argued the premise is not original - but the setting and the characters, are all refreshing and surprisingly creepy.

The eagerness for stardom is possibly the greatest monster here, and the cast is seen to suffer for that ambition. The more traditional slasher kills are displayed in a variety of pleasingly outlandish ways. The chunky - and very '80s - incidental music is cheesily effective also.

My score is 8 out of 10.

Paul Hyett's low-budget rail-based lycanthropy thriller focusses on under-appreciated Joe, a train guard who tolerates the vague rudeness of the general public as part of his day-to-day job. We're on his side from the off, so when 'outside influences' appear to cause the train to come to a halt in the middle of nowhere, bad fortune is guaranteed. This is especially true for the train driver, played by Sean Pertwee, after the actor's previous encounter with werewolves in 1994's 'Dog Soldiers.'

Apart from Ed Speleers as Joe, there's a plethora of passengers, all flawed of course, that are too interesting to be dismissed as fodder for the wolves. Whether that is their fate or not, you'll have to watch to find out.

'Howl' doesn't provide much that is new or revolutionary concerning our hirsute antagonists, but what it does, it does very well. My score is 8 out of 10.

This Southern American supernatural horror film appears to have been a labour of love for its writer, director, co-producer and star Steve Pullen writes, directs and co-produces this South American horror film. He also uses family members to further bolster the production crew which may be why there is a certain lack of discipline regarding the set-up of certain scenes, especially in the finale. Some of them simply go on for too long, and the sense of tension, or emotion, ends up losing its impact.

Other than that, though, it's difficult to criticise this independent production. As a horror, it works as a slowly evolving mood piece, very character-based. I always argue that if you can get the audience to care about the characters, then you're on your way to making a successful film. Other much more sophisticated (and expensive) films could take a few lessons from 'The Ballerina', because you're invited to care about the characters to such an extent, your eyes are leaking long before the end. As a melancholy horror tear-jerker, I'd give this 9 out of 10.

When does a bad film become a good film? If you watch something and it's kept you entertained until the end, surely that proves it has something of merit? You'd think so, but the line between good and bad remains blurred.

By 1941, Bela Lugosi had ascended heights that only the lord of vampires could allow him, and the lows brought about by a subsequent purge of all cinematic horror in the late '30s. A possible result of this saw him rarely turn down a job, which led to him being treated shabbily by money-minded studios and also, that he would show up in some below-par productions. His run of films for Monogram Pictures was of a quality frequently treated less than seriously today - or even then. 'The Invisible Ghost' is the first of these. It's unimaginatively shot, resulting in many repetitive scenes and the plot makes no real sense, other than to present the audience with a few ghostly images and an unlikely murder saga.

And yet it has a certain something. Former silent screen star Betty Compson is excellent as Virginia, the confused, apparently doomed wife of Charles Kessler (Lugosi). Both of these actors are far better than the material, which nevertheless serves up a few sinister moments. John McGuire plays Ralph, but his limited range is stretched to also play twin brother John. Evans (Clarence Muse) is spared the usual wide-eyed eccentricities most coloured butlers from this era are afforded. He emerges as possibly the best-played character, and rather than being a comedy foil, is the one who stumbles across various killings.

There you have The Invisible Ghost. A slipshod, quickly shot delight, definitely worth your time.

This chatty French horror film has similarities with 2014’s ‘Up Above, So Below’. I found that film’s success surprising for such a lacklustre production, so my enthusiasm for ‘Bunker 717’ (sometimes known as ‘Deep Fear’) was muted. The results here are pretty good.

Three students decide to celebrate their graduation by exploring the catacombs underneath Paris. They appear to be followed down there by a couple of skinhead ne’er do wells.

Things start off slowly and it’s a pity some of the time wasn’t spent allowing us to get to know the characters better; they are all fairly likeable, but sketchy. The main antagonist, who is impressive but used very sparingly, would also have benefited from some semblance of a backstory.

This is low-key, but mainly fun. The claustrophobic setting is well conveyed and there’s a real sense of ‘things lurking in the shadows’. This, and a convincing level of gore, coupled with an effective ending, makes for a fairly effective 80 minutes. My score is 6 out of 10.

A curiously produced film, inconsistent in tone. Very talky scenes are followed by often boringly staged action sequences that tend to drag. Shortly after we’ve been introduced to the characters - Emily Whitcomb as Harriet, the lone survivor of a vicious attack and the gunman she hires Hawes, played by Mike Markoff – there’s a long scene with a widower and her young son, that serves no purpose, and is never referred to again.

Director and co-writer Rene Perez has proven prolific in low-budget horror and, despite the erratic nature of ‘The Legend of Hawes’, is an interesting name nonetheless. Visually, this has a washed-out look, as if the saturation has been filtered down, giving an oddly grey sheen to the often-sunny locations. Also, Perez has decided to liberally embellish the film with faux scratches and blurs from time to time, perhaps in a bid to liven up the very long dialogue-heavy scenes.

I find it hard to be too critical of this; it was clearly made with little budget and boasts a convincing cast of actors who do their best to breathe life into the lacklustre characters. The rampaging murderers who make lives miserable in this Wild Western location are a curiously interesting bunch of outlaws, growling behind their effective flesh masks, although we learn little about them. There’s a refreshing pro-religion theme lightly sprinkled throughout too, which doesn’t happen often. My score is 6 out of 10.

A nicely paced, carefully made low-budget horror film, with a small cast of convincing actors and some immersive sound design. Director and co-writer Ty Leisher creates here a character-based, claustrophobic nightmare featuring my favourite setting – a world within a world.

Four crime scene cleaners find the house they are refining is under the spell of a Nordic demon, which you might consider to be bad enough – but it also makes escape impossible and maintains that whatever goes on inside is imperceptible to those outside. That’s to say anyone calling will find the house impenetrable but there will be nothing of a suspicious nature, entirely impervious to the panicked cries of those inside the dwelling unable to make themselves heard.

The rising panic is well conveyed, and the occasional reminders of the characters’ personal situations cause additional friction. The marrying of the mundanities of every day relationships and the madness of demonic possession is effectively conveyed. Only the familiar modulated voices and glowing CGI eyes advertise any unoriginality. My score is 8 out of 10.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the nastiest of them all? Hot-tempered philanderer Don (CM Punk, under his real name Phil Brooks)? He has a one-night stand while his pregnant wife is away working to keep him in money, and he explains the affair by saying ‘it is what it is’. Or maybe it’s sultry temptress Sarah (Sarah Brooks) who, knowing his marital situation, is more than happy to get her leg over? Certainly, it isn’t Cooper, his Alsatian, whose every glare can either be charming, intimidatory, funny or just plain hungry.

Whatever the deficiencies in the characters, they are at least interesting, and the continual haunted mischief of the house he is trying to renovate (“Who paints a room pink?”) is well-staged and eerily relentless. The unravelling story is strangely compelling and the flawed characters are well played. Director Travis Stevens does a good job of piling on the menace, and if it isn’t particularly scary, it is certainly brutal and something that makes an impression. I like the way Don’s beloved death metal music seeps into the incidental, providing quite a unique score.

Like Stevens’ 2015 film, ‘We Are Still Here’ (a favourite of mine), ‘Girl on the Third Floor’ leaves us with questions only generally skirted over – which I have no problem with. I’m not a fan of undoing all the carefully built-up atmosphere by explaining everything away, but we’re made to wait until near the end before Don’s behaviour is – partially – explained. My score is 7 out of 10.