Film Reviews by NP

The most common word I have seen in reviews of this film is ‘ambitious’, and I think that is pretty fair. There’s nothing wrong with aiming high when directing a film, and there are moments where ‘Umbrage’ really appears to be hitting its stride – only to be knocked back by incomprehensible dialogue, occasional bad acting or the meandering storyline.

The first half concentrates on Doug Bradley’s Jacob (who has recently acquired a black mirror, which appears to be letting in ‘shadows’), who is either fending off barbs from his heavily pregnant wife (never a good omen in a horror film), or his constantly moody ward, Rachel. When two visitors arrive, things get a great deal worse.

The second half delves into the back story of the character Phelan and his age-old battle with the unspecified demon Lilith. Phelan (Johnny Hurn) is an Irish cowboy vampire, and Lilith looks wonderfully evil and sultry, only stumbling when Natalia Celino’s limitations as an actress are exposed whenever she has dialogue. A wholly unnecessary flashback rape scene reveals some of the reasons for their rivalry, and it appears Jacob and his vastly diminishing group have simply been caught in the crossfire.

It occurs to me that during filming, a sudden flurry of snowfall must have hampered proceedings. Rachel is hiding behind a car. When she emerges, snow has covered the ground. Rather than try to hide this, writer/director Drew Cullingham bridges the moments with hugely atmospheric panoramas of the falling snow (which adds further visual interest in a very picturesque backdrop). I assume this to be the case – there is no other reason for this to happen. Then, there is no reason for Lauren to be pregnant, other than to provide a gory death scene (reason enough perhaps) – or indeed for the most of the cast to die.

SPOILERS – after a series of apparent endings, we finally reach the finale: Jacob is blinded and then bitten by Rachel, who has been turned into a vampire by Phelan, reminding us that Lilith may be evil incarnate, but her rival is just as depraved.

The idea of a vampire cowboy is not as unusual as it sounds. Before horror films existed, silent Western films were occasionally spiced up with ghostly happenings. The idea of a vengeful cowboy vampire and a demonic seductress battling each other across (presumably) the centuries is very appealing, it’s just a shame that the results should be this uneven.

This film has probably the most striking opening of any from French Director Jean Rollin – two young women dressed in white dancing together on a bridge walkway over a picturesque stretch of water, followed by a well-to-do group entering a cadaver-strewn abattoir for a genteel blood-tasting ceremony. Blood is a cure for anaemia, apparently – its taste is very ‘fashionable’.

This is followed by scoundrel Marc (Jean-Pierre Lemaire) who has just double-crossed his band of robbers and takes refuge in an ornate mansion, where he meets Eva and Elisabeth who claim to be preparing the property for when the owners return. He places the two girls in very lose home-confinement (leaving them at liberty to enjoy bouts of lovemaking that – rarely for Rollin – carry a genuine sexual charge) they immediately assume the psychological upper hand by undermining Marc and refusing to be intimidated by him. Indeed, Eva seems particularly stricken with him.

Although I loved the use of stark black and white in Rollin’s ‘Rape of the Vampire’, the colour and lighting here is beautiful. Crisp autumnal dawn sunlight, mist and the vibrant hues of the various costumes – all are intoxicating and spellbinding (although there’s a variant in weather and conditions rendering continuity a mess – mist, sunshine and rain – all in the space of the same sequence).

The owners return – upper-class ‘bourgeois crackpots’ who are, of course, the blood-drinkers from the opening moments and put a grisly end to Elisabeth, while Eva appears to save Marc by taking him to the stables, before making it clear she is the most unhinged of all by killing him and blaming the dead Elisabeth.

The acting is particularly strong here. Lemaire is excellent as the caddish Marc (doomed from the moment he enters the château but the last to realise it), and the ever pouting Brigitte Lahie excels as Elisabeth (equally doomed, but much less predictably so).

Rollin is at his most visually confident here. ‘Fascination’ is probably best known from its image of Lahie as a grim reaper (naked under the cowling), complete with scythe striding across the picturesque stone bridge in red leather boots.

Alexandra Essoe plays Sarah, whose demure nature masks a desperation to become a successful actress. She is surrounded by snide wastrel friends, and there are moments when her ambition suggests she is probably just as contemptuous of them as they appear to be of her. After another unsuccessful audition, she is caught throwing a violent tantrum by one of the casting directors, and her outburst sparks interest. When she eventually meets the producer, things take on a mysterious and very sinister turn.

In the pivotal role of Sarah, Essoe excels at every opportunity. The viewer is lead to feel every beat of the humiliation she suffers, either at the hands of her friends, or in the job she abhors. Her transformation throughout the film is believably handled throughout, which is just as well because what happens to her is … bizarre.

The gore effects are very impressive, especially for a low-budget picture, although she does appear to barely be able to move in one scene, only to become a rabid killer in the next.

There are questions. In fact, the whole thing ends with a massive question – none of Sarah’s victims seem to be discovered, there is no evidence of any police investigation. In fact, the whole story takes place in a kind of elevated isolation where no outside influences are present. And of course, who are the people behind it all, and just what does Sarah become? ‘Starry Eyes’ results in being a highly enjoyable, gruesome picture where the journey is a lot more entertaining than the destination.

Amy is irritated by her boyfriend and his offers of help, Amy is angered by the police, Amy is bored by the estate agent, Amy is annoyed at the local chemist. Amy spends such a lot of the time being intolerant of those around her, it is very difficult to care about her plight during the course of this story, especially as the story is not hugely gripping anyway.

As the film rolls on, we realise why Amy has a particularly good reason to be angry at the world, but we spend the majority of the story getting to this point, by which time, I had certainly lost interest in her.

Of the rest of the cast, Eric Roberts is the most familiar face. Known for adopting a slightly tongue-in-cheek approach to his roles, there’s no dramatic change in evidence here. He is probably the most entertaining character, with his dry delivery as Officer Peterson bringing the character more life than is written.

What appealed to me about this film was the idea of horrors dwelling beneath the surface of a sunny, respectable suburban setting. Whilst ideas and characters are touched upon in a mildly effective way, there is nothing here to sustain the entire running time, and whilst I often enjoy films that tell a story in a slowly building way, there isn’t even a memorable pay-off at the end.

Interesting idea - it is accepted that vampires live amongst us. As such, they are quarantined to the smoky desolation of ‘section 5’. As would probably happen in real life, pro-life protestors proclaim that they are people and are being treated like prisoners when they have a right to life. As a contrast to that, the vampires are also described as 'an affront to God' and deserve to be segregated by other-minded souls.

Within the vampire community, comprising of low-lives who make undercover exchanges of synthetic blood substitute for the right price, there is an even bigger danger; something is killing the vampires. To this end, a group of hardened criminals are granted a partial pardon if they make it their mission to destroy this new threat.

The characters presented are exactly the kind of designer-stubbled, black-leather jacket wearing poseurs that I feel has given the vampire concept an image that goes against everything interesting about the original concept. The 'good guys' fair no better, a crew of strutting wise-cracking men or perfectly manicured, improbably attractive females who are strong in determination but always happy to bow to the wishes of the men folk. Impossible to like, everyone postures, smoulders and puckers as much as the screen time will allow them to do. The one exception is the main cop's right hand man, who is from the North of England and is the relentless victim of the team's self-obsessed put-downs.

The good central ideas aside (which apparently are startlingly similar to teen-soap 'True Blood' – indeed this film is widely billed as ‘True Bloodthirst’, giving up all pretence at originality) this well-shot, nicely scored film is a chore to get through. No-one is remotely real, just a collection of glistening catwalk models happy to parade themselves, self-satisfied, through a series of borrowed tension-free set-pieces and the whole enterprise emerges as darkened, elongated day-time soap filler.

French director Jean Rollin tries his hand at a David Cronenberg-type horror/thriller set, for the most part, inside a massive clinic, wherein the patients are all suffering from some sort of mental relapse where they remember nothing about themselves. The idea of an ordered society collapsing into chaos puts me in mind of JG Ballard’s ‘High Rise’ story.

Here is an environment where just about every awkward and uncomfortable bout of spontaneous sex results in graphic death, giving us the chance to witness more nudity than usual for a Rollin film, and moments of genuine shock/gore.

After a strong beginning, the film becomes a series of events featuring characters we don’t ever get to know, which causes the action to drag without the audience being allowed to care aboutwhat is happening. Elizabeth, who has escaped only to be recaptured, is pursued by Robert, who initially discovered her (and her friend Veronique) wandering along a country road in the beginning of the story. In turn, they are pursued by the clinic’s officials.

“I want them alive,” one of the guards shouts to his three men, as they fire several bullets at them. Like ‘Killing Car’, this is an environment where just about everyone has a gun.

It’s a story that offers little hope for the characters. Those who don’t end up dead have their minds wiped once again (the female vocal music that sweeps in at moments of intensity is illusory and highly effective). The Government are behind events, unsurprisingly, and hope to cover up the experiments to avoid a scandal.

The outside views of the tower blocks and various areas of Parisian industry, shot in characteristically cold colours suggesting dawn or twilight shoots, are often accompanied by (what I suspect to be) chill wind sound effects and prove that once again, Rollin is a master at creating unsettling atmospherics in familiar looking places. The finale, with Elizabeth and Robert slowly walking away, hand in hand, high above a landscape of tower-blocks and industria, is a typical example of understated Rollin beauty. A deceptively simple viewpoint it made haunting and plaintive. With the film’s preoccupation with indoor locations, impressive and austere though they are, we are robbed of much in the way of such poignant imagery, which is why ‘The Night of the Hunted’ is not my favourite Rollin film (although it possesses a nicely unsettling atmosphere throughout) . Pornographic actress Brigitte Lahie acquits herself very well with the demanding role of Elizabeth, but again, her pouting good looks rarely fail to remind me she is acting; she doesn’t quite possess the natural unearthly lure of Le Masque de la Méduse’s Marlène Delcambre, Little Orphan Vampire Isabelle Teboul or the Castel twins.

This is adapted from the story by HG Wells in 1896, which was famously filmed as ‘The Island of Lost Souls’ in 1932, concerning animal/human hybrids.

Initially, Douglas’s (David Thewlis) disrespectful comments about Moreau’s cross-bred children, whilst in their presence, grinds alongside their exemplary manners. Indeed, the agent is told there is not one note of malice in them. However, it soon becomes obvious that Moreau’s control over them is far from humane, and the good doctor is – not that there was ever much doubt – insane.

Marlon Brando wrestles with an upper-crust British accent and some outsized false teeth. The accent is perfect, the prosthetics less so, rendering occasional moments of dialogue incomprehensible. His performance though, is terrific. Dangerous and a lot of fun. From his first appearance, draped in white, outsized sunglasses and a full face smothered in white ‘sunblock’, he is delightfully bizarre.

The film loses something when Brando’s presence is removed, and events become a bit of a jumble. Val Kilmer’s Montgomery, who takes Moreau’s place, is good, but he’s no Marlon Brando.

Ultimately, ‘The Island of Doctor Moreau’ is a thoroughly enjoyable film. David Thewlis (who joined the film after shooting had started, replacing another actor) initially seems miscast as Douglas, but he soon proves himself as the talented actor he is. The same can be said for the various hybrids, most of who really take advantage of the excellent make-up jobs and imbue them with tangible emotion which would be lost if everything was achieved with CGI.

It is difficult to ignore the critical mauling the film received, due in part to a series of unfortunate occurrences behind the scenes. Viewed almost 20 years after its release – and I speak as someone yet to see the original Charles Laughton version, so therefore have no other film to compare this to – I found it hugely enjoyable.

Due to unexpected popularity (which caused round-the-block queues) of the original ‘Dracula’ and ‘Frankenstein’ re-screenings, Universal at last lifted their curfew on horror pictures with this hugely budgeted, star-studded sequel to the mighty ‘Bride of Frankenstein.’

Alongside Basil Rathbone’s ambitious Baron Wolf Von Frankenstein, the viewer is literally transported from the real world into a vast, rain-lashed and unforgiving removed reality of horror via a train journey that really does traverse from one to the other very effectively. The town (now also called ‘Frankenstein’) is populated by those who want nothing to do with the new Baron, his wife, or his mop-headed, curiously Texan-sounding son Peter (played by future voice artist for Bambi, Donnie Dunagan). Understandably, they remember well the chaos brought about by Henry Frankenstein’s creation, or more accurately, their own townsfolk’s brutal treatment of him.

Rathbone is brilliant in this, transforming from impetuous family man to hysterical ‘mad doctor’ with great skill. Bela Lugosi plays Ygor in one of his greatest performances, a part that was strengthened in order to give Lugosi a greater share of the action. Lionel Atwill, enjoyable in any part, gets probably his best role – that of Inspector Krogh, the wooden armed Police Inspector determined to protect both Wolf’s family and the townsfolk.

The sets are huge and expressionist, casting great shadows and rising imperiously above the tremendous cast, and the music used here would crop up again and again in future, less well-funded Universal horrors and mysteries.

So why does this film seem slightly disappointing to me?

Even after all this time, I still cannot answer that. Could it be that Peter, such an integral part, is entrusted to a four year old? Dunagan is a terrific performer for his age, but perhaps if the role was given to someone slightly older, they could invest it with just a hint of gravitas. Could it be that a thicker, jowlier Boris Karloff is given a strange sheepskin vest (presumably by friend Ygor, who upstages him regularly) and given no scenes of sympathy as he was so effectively in earlier films? Could it be that the film is just slightly overlong, and suffered from an unfinished script at the time of filming, which as a result, means that it plods – rather like the monster – in places?

I don’t know why I’m less than satisfied by this. Maybe it is because it follows what I consider the greatest film of all time? There’s no doubt that so many elements are excellent here, and this clearly is one of the last Universal horrors to benefit from a generous budget (indeed it was their final ‘A’ production for a Frankenstein film).

‘Treehouse’ starts off in an intriguing manner with the very young looking Elizabeth (Dana Melanie) coming home to find her young brother ‘little Bob’ missing after, bizarrely, being left in the family house alone.

Two brothers, the bullied Killian (J. Michael Trautmann) and wholesome Crawford (Daniel Fredrick) discover Elizabeth trapped in a treehouse, before Crawford disappears (he appears to be one of several figures hung from the tree in probably the film’s most effective sequence) and the two youngsters then have to fend for themselves.

What happens next is a jumble of flashbacks and tantalising glimpses of what appears to be a creature in the distance. The creature turns out to be one of three hillbillies who seem intent on killing the two juveniles.

There were some sound problems (loud music and quiet dialogue), but ‘Treehouse’ has been shot and directed very well, much of the action appearing to take place in crisp early morning sunlight which helps give the woodland setting a stark, uncomfortable look. The acting too, is very good until the very end when the two surviving leads are required to be hardened and detached by events, ready to take on the world – which is asking too much and fails to convince.

This is an effective, mildly graphic shocker of the ‘Jeeper Creepers’ variety where a selection of teens get themselves involved in the eerie ritualistic machinations of animated scarecrows eager to recruit more innocents to become like them. There is no CGI, the scarecrows are physical, solid creatures, and as such, provide a tangible and frightening threat.

The location is beautifully shot and lit. The use of colour is especially worthy of note. The cornfield and decrepit farmhouse nearby provide a wonderfully creepy location for many of the events.

The teens are a formulaic bunch. Johnny, the one who goes missing; Brian, the square jawed hero; Chris, the untrustworthy one; Scott, the one in glasses (he seems empathetic and witnesses an insight into the ‘scarecrows’ past), while talented Australian actress Tammin Sursok has the thankless role of Natalie,‘the girlfriend’. And that is where I find this film lacking. Directly below this review is a film called ‘Beckoning the Butcher’; in it, we get to know the leads well, they are rounded characters. They laugh, joke and argue with each other. There are no jokes in this film – just posturing performers with whom we only sympathise when they begin dying. That isn’t to specifically knock ‘Husk’, which is an extremely well made and well-paced film – but just how more involving (and scary) would it have been for audience if they were actually invited to be invested in the main characters?

It is very effective, throughout much of the film, that the ongoing pattern of the spirit’s plan continues relentless, no matter what our heroes try to do. One by one they are strung up and killed, become infected by the ‘curse’ and, zombie-like, lurch towards the upstairs farmhouse room to fashion themselves a new scarecrow mask. It is through the mask that their possession is complete. When that is removed, their spirit then animates another in the ever increasing army.

The ending is as open-ended as any can be, and provides a real punch-the-air moment. It seems Chris is on the verge of rescue by two passers-by, even though another scarecrow is lurking in the foliage nearby. Fade to black.

‘In my big glass palace, the sun shines freely

And at night the pale moon shines its soft light

Princess, my beloved princess, a kind gentleman said to me,

Your face is a cameo, with your beautiful dewy eyes.’

This is French film director Jean Rollin’s first feature film. It was released at a time of local political unrest, and was one of only a few films available. As such, it drew large audiences who were often angry and scathing at the unconventional nature of the story-telling.

A lot of the back-story is initially conveyed by narration. The four sisters who are convinced they are vampires are suitably seductive and other-worldly, and the three who travel from Paris to ‘cure’ them of their perceived illness are, by contrast, very ordinary. No professional actors were used for budgetary reasons.

Typical Rollin flourishes are here from the outset: it takes less than three minutes for a young topless girl to be seduced, for example. In a scene where the character of Brigitte is stumbling across an open field, there are glimpses of the real world – society, industry – in the distance, but always out of reach, always on the periphery. The events are firmly rooted in a heightened reality, cocooned almost by the unreality of the world of the vampires. This is a theme prevalent in many Rollin pictures.

Denying a Rollin film colour is stripping it of one of his most defining hallmarks, but monochrome nevertheless gives his usual flair for imagery starker, more desolate tones far removed from the comparative ‘comfort’ of his love for rich palettes. The dilapidated buildings look colder, the skeleton trees in the woodland look starker.

It isn’t until act two (the film was originally intended to be a short, before but another chapter was added so that it could be released as a full-length film) that we see the first glimpses of ‘Rollin beach’ (Pourville-lès-Dieppe) which would feature in many future productions. It is this location in particular that Rollin favoured as it left a haunting impression on him as a child, and that eagerness to lend a child’s view impression on his projects is what makes them so appealing to fans of ‘personal’ films. The filming here always takes place in the cold months, under grey, heavy skies – in black and white, it looks very barren indeed. A perfect location for the arrival of the vampire queen (Jacqueline Sieger). Sieger’s acting is very theatrical, but there is no denying she brings an extreme and exotic nature to her character that sets her apart from the others.

The chaotic jazzy/violin soundtrack is used to both work for and against the unsettling mood: ‘against’ because it seems so inappropriate, and ‘for’ because that very jarring quality makes even straightforward scenes unnerving.

The vampire fangs are achieved more successfully here than in probably any other Rollin film. More subtle than usual, they are located on the teeth outside the incisors.

The titles of the two chapters are ‘The Rape of the Vampire’ and ‘The Vampire Woman/Queen of the Vampires’.

To me, an out-of-season sea-front is an ideal place for horror stories. Ever since MR James’ ‘Oh, Whistle, And I'll Come To You, My Lad’ perceived such a location as an isolated, ghostly, shunned arena for supernatural phenomena, it has amazed me the location hasn’t been utilised a lot more within this genre.

‘Sleeping Room’ makes excellent use of Brighton sea-front for such a premise, for both interiors and exteriors. The retro tackiness of some of the décor in various rooms conveys a nice suggestion of timelessness into which this somewhat standard story is set.

Of the cast, Joseph Beattie as Bill really impresses, transforming from being shy and slightly awkward, into a ‘The Shining’-style lunatic with great skill. Sadly, there is an occasionally lacklustre performance from scratchy voiced Leila Mimmack as Blue, who nevertheless comes to life in moments of tension. Julie Graham, David Sibley and Chris Waller provide excellent support.

The secret room in Bill’s new apartment carries ghostly remembrances of ‘Frisky’ Fiskin, a terrifying perverted murderer. It’s a fairly routine story given extra flourish by the director. It rushes through the events somewhat, leaving little time to dwell on the threat – especially during the climactic events.

This is almost an excellent film, but you have to work to understand what is going on.

A family is devastated by the apparent suicide of the son, with the mother Helen (Carolyn Hauck) in particular, making it a personal mission to get to the truth. The acting in this low-budget project is mostly top notch – in Hauck’s case, possibly too good; her obsession pushes her into very obvious insanity that wouldn’t go unnoticed by those she comes into contact with. It goes beyond ‘tell her she’s mad, dad’ and would surely lead to steps being taken to secure proper care for her – but she’s right, of course, to an extent, although the director fills the narrative with so many sped-up shots, blurred images, flashbacks and other effects that occasionally events become incomprehensible. Whilst this is a good way of conveying how Helen (who to me, has a smattering of Sigourney Weaver about her) now sees the world, it can leave the viewer confused. As a result, often the ‘quieter’ moments are most effective.

Suthi Picotte as daughter Kate is also very good in a cast who actually appear to be more concerned with acting than posturing, which can be one of the pitfalls of many modern horror/dramas.

There are many films I’ve thoroughly enjoyed, but it is doubtful I’ll visit them again. This deserves more than one airing however, to enjoy again events packed into the fast moving runtime, and also to see many things undoubtedly missed out on.

For a big lad, Big Foot is very adept at killing people whilst keeping himself out of sight. We don’t get to see him for a while, and when we do, we are given tantalising shots of silhouettes and various limbs speeding past.

At first, the tone of Savage seems to be somewhat tongue-in-cheek, with knowing performances from some of the cast. As time goes on, either the tone gets a little darker or I became used to some of the flippant moments. Either way, as the death toll mounts, we are effortlessly invited into darker waters (speaking of which, a solitary eye floating in the river is a moment that provides a perfect mixture of shock and mirth).

For a horror film, this isn’t going satisfy everyone, although there are some moments of gore and some tension, even if it is difficult to sustain an atmosphere of terror in blazing sunlight. For a low budget project, setting the action amidst forest fires is ambitious (the resultant fires don’t look like they need much controlling), but having those fires disturb the habitat of Bigfoot is an interesting plot device.

The Dark Hour is a Spanish film which explores an unknown dystopian society.

It’s a risk featuring a child actor in a dominant role in a film; the child’s acting maybe be adequate but not convince, or worse, he can produce a precocious, obnoxious performance which can lose the character sympathy. Luckily, Omar Muñoz is both convincing and appealing, which is refreshing, especially as his character Jesus is written as a mischievous scamp.

Jesus could be seen as the eyes of the viewer. He lives with a group of what appear to be survivors of a holocaust which may or may not have wiped out the rest of mankind. Their world is a sealed bunker of sorts. It seems to be infiltrated by ghost-like mutants, necessitating regular curfew. The relationships between the others is nicely outlined by Jesus, who seems intent to record a video-diary – however, this is not a found footage film, for reasons that become clear at the story’s end.

The bleak setting is beautifully conveyed, however the lack of apparent answers until the very end leads to the story dragging a little occasionally. The carefully built-up atmosphere is stiflingly grim, and there is a genuine sense of hope when the remaining characters manage to escape the bunker … or do they?

I won’t give away the final twist, which is tremendous and haunting. There are elements of zombie films here, although I would cautiously suggest this is better than most. It branches out into sci-fi territory, but is assuredly a claustrophobic horror film.