Faye (Sarah French) used to be a successful actress before she lost her sight. Now she spends her days going to support groups and trying to transition to a life with not being able to see. She’s made friends; Sophia (Caroline Williams) who has also lost her sight and Luke (Tyler Gallant), a mute personal trainer who has taken an interest in her.
However, Faye is too stuck in her own head to realise that losing her sight doesn’t mean that nobody will ever love her again. Unfortunately, there is someone who has noticed her and he’s willing to kill anyone in his path to get to her.
Blind is a generic and unimaginative horror movie which takes the tropes of a blind victim in a horror movie and does nothing new with it. Also, as understandable as it may be that somebody would spend time learning to cope with a new disability, Faye does spend the entire run of the movie feeling sorry for herself which makes her a difficult character to warm to, especially as the killer gets closer.
The deaths also come very sparingly in a movie which is already quite short. So, in between those times the camera likes to either linger on Faye as she mourns for her former life, or it moves to the serial killer whose expressionless Ken doll mask still has more emotion than the lead. Either way it takes away any suspense from Faye’s situation.
The film does try and add a sense of danger as it does keep the audience guessing as to the true identity of the killer. However, with that being the most interesting part of the film, there’s not a lot else here that hasn’t already been done a million times.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkbewmI6jh8
Moodily shot and with a focus that clearly likes to wander over French’s body, Blind is a movie as uninspired as its title as it plays with the cliches of horror films that have been around for years and yet doesn’t attempt to do anything different.
Also, the final reveal of the killer’s true identity comes off as unintentionally funny rather than scary.
The only thing more powerful than superheroes is their enormous drawing power with audiences. Considering the massive success of Marvel and DC, filmmakers have been granted the opportunity to get more creative with their super-powered protagonists. This year alone, Netflix experimented with two unique franchise-starters (The Old Guard and Project Power), while horror stalwart Andre Øvredal (Trollhunter and Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark) delivers his own fresh-spin with Mortal. Øvredal’s low-budget offering has some noticeable blemishes, but the film thankfully defines its own avenue in the well-trudged genre.
Mortal follows Eric (Nat Wolff), a drifter traveling through Norway to find the source of his mysterious powers. When he’s taken into captivity by the police, he befriends Christine (Iben Akerlie), a sympathetic therapist who looks to aid Eric on his mission. The duo travels across the country while facing off against armed forces who look to contain Eric’s unknown abilities.
Viewers expecting a straight-forward action romp may be disappointed, but this eschewing of expectations is part of what makes Mortal work. Øvredal defines his film with a gritty, slow-burn approach, setting a foreboding atmosphere around Eric’s mysterious presence. Whereas most films define their super-powered protagonists as noble heroes, Øvredal isn’t afraid to imbue the character with a murky sense of morality.
Nat Wolff offers an assured performance as a super-powered nomad, conveying the character’s unstable emotionality with a sensitive light. Alongside the concerned side characters, the film intentionally has viewers guessing throughout whether Eric will utilize his powers for good or evil. I appreciate this ambiguous approach immensely, with Øvredal grounding his narrative in our society’s own concerns about undefinable entities (Batman V Superman integrated a similar approach).
That’s not to say Mortal lacks crowd-pleasing setpieces. Øvredal continues to operate as an overlooked craftsman, displaying an innate ability to morph minimal assets into immersive and grand action beats. Between helicopters flurrying out of the sky and lightning bolts engulfing cars, I was impressed by the number of inventive action beats Øvredal seamlessly works into the narrative framework. I also commend the director for his tonal management of these sequences, subbing out the usual awe-inspiring mysticism for something far more dangerous and unkempt.
Perhaps the great shame in Mortal’s unique approach is the lingering potential outside of the film’s grasp. The script lacks proper dimension, rarely employing its character’s with the nuance or confliction that they desperately call for (Iben Akerlie is solid as Christine, but her character is reduced to a thankless love interest). This would be more forgivable if the film stuck the landing with its third act, as the finale closes with an anti-climactic whimper. Abruptly cutting off amidst a tense and shocking encounter, it almost feels like Øvredal and company ran out of resources to execute their bold conceit.
While shrouded in imperfections, Mortal offers a refreshing change-up from the traditional superhero formula. I will continue to look forward to Øvredal’s future projects, with the upcoming talent exhibiting some genuine filmmaking prowess.
Marcus (Duke Van Patten) and his dad, Johhny (Michael Paré) have just moved to the idyllic town of Middleton. They’re poor so Marcus sets about to find a job and soon finds himself working for a local garage. That’s where he meets Samantha (Kennedy Tucker) and there’s an instant attraction between them. Unfortunately, Samantha already has a boyfriend and her mum, the principle of Middleton High School, Alana (Eileen Davidson) is having problems as the school is in financial trouble and she may have to close the school.
There are two kinds of people in the world, those who only start shopping two weeks before Christmas and refuse to even acknowledge it before December and there are those who are happy that Halloween is over so they can finally start putting their decorations up and start looking for a tree. Middleton Christmas is aimed at the latter.
Although it does seem that sometime during production there may have been a decision to make it a Christmas movie so that it can appeal to a wider audience. With barely a sprinkling of Christmas, Middleton Christmas could have been done just as easily as a drama set during any other time of the year and it certainly looks like it was filmed outside of Christmas.
With only a few decorations and a finale set piece desperately trying to make up for the lack of Christmas in the rest of the movie, it certainly won’t be a movie on your Christmas watchlist.
There are certain expectations about Christmas movies, especially those made for TV like Middleton Christmas and this one barely scratches the surface. Besides the terrible acting, predictable plot and forced expressions of comfort and joy among its cast, there just isn’t enough there to genuinely enjoy or even enjoy in a cheesy, ironic way where everybody is in on the joke.
The point of cheesy Christmas movies is that they’re so over the top that it’s funny. This one just slapped Christmas in the title and hoped for the best.
However, the biggest question is never answered; why doesn’t the principal take a pay cut to save the school? Her house looks like it’s far too big for somebody working on a school principle’s wage.
Blumhouse’s reign of horror dominance only continues to grow, with producer Jason Blum’s wisely incorporating several well-known brands into his portfolio (The Invisible Man, Halloween, and Fantasy Island were all hits at the box office). Blum’s enterprising spirit treks forward with The Craft: Legacy, the long-awaited follow-up to the 1996 cult horror hit. While this sequel tries to reinvent its predecessor with a modern sensibility, Legacy never escapes the shadow of its far superior contemporary.
The Craft: Legacy follows Lilly (Cailee Spaeny), a teen moving to a new town with her mom Helen (Michelle Monaghan) and her motivational speaking father-in-law Adam (David Duchovny). While struggling to escape the cruel norms of high school life, Lilly is befriended by Lourdes (Zoey Luna), Frankie (Gideon Adlon), and Tabby (Lovie Simone), three inspiring witches looking for their fourth member. When the four try to evoke positive change with their newfound powers, they soon discover not all is as it seems when a sinister force interferes with their intentions.
My interest in Legacy peaked with the involvement of writer/director Zoe-Lister Jones, a sharp talent who proved her immense ability with 2017’s underrated character-drama Band Aid. In her first foray in genre filmmaking, Jones thankfully imbues her own thoughtful lens into the narrative framework.
Whereas the original Craft stood as a potent portrait of the 90’s anti-conformity movement, Legacy operates as a critical condemnation of the uber-masculinity that permeates through dated gender roles. It’s a strong conceit, one that Jones renders through metaphorical plotting and a few strong character-driven moments (Timmy, a bully who gets turned into a socially-progressive peer by the witches, offers raw reflections on his sexuality). I also appreciate Jones’ ability to ground the film into our modern zeitgeist, conveying these sentiments without implementing a mawkish heavy-handedness.
This well-realized foundation is part of what makes Legacy’s faulty final product so disappointing to endure. Whether the film was hacked in post-production or trimmed during filming, there’s a lingering sense that this is an unfinished product.
During the film’s brisk 97 minute runtime, subplots are introduced without resolution, the witchcraft process is reduced to meer montages, and the core witches rarely get time to grow onscreen (outside of Lilly, the other three witches lack dynamic qualities or proper depth, each speaking through the same wise-cracking dialogue). While I don’t want to unfairly hold this sequel to the original’s standard, the 96′ film incorporated patience and care with its development. Each of the central four had an arc and unique presence, with their journey towards witchcraft being carefully-designed from the opening frames. Legacy feels so truncated that none of its characters possess any real gravity onscreen.
From a genre perspective, the horror elements are frankly nonexistent. Not to bring up the original again (I swear, this is the last time!), but The Craft balanced witchcraft’s respective allures with an uncontrollable danger, as the character’s wishes come with their own unforeseen dark side. Here, a third act twist mitigates any consequences that could’ve come from the witches actions, with the only source of danger deriving from a villain that’s equally predictable and flat. Once the witchcraft is finally on display, Jones can’t elevate her low-budget assets into visually compelling sequences, with the third act landing with an awkward thud rather than a roaring climax (a last-second reveal offers unsatisfactory fanfare).
Making a film is a hard, especially when operating in a studio system that assigns specific mandates to follow upon. While The Craft: Legacy doesn’t really work, I do appreciate the conceits Jones brings to the table. She’s got a pulse on genuine dynamics, something that I hope she can employ more successfully with future projects.
Considering theaters dire financial straights, studios have been utilizing this time to release some of their shelved projects for content-starved audiences. That’s where Focus Features latest Come Play comes into action, trying to cash in on the Halloween weekend after its delayed-release (the film was originally scheduled for July 2020). While writer/director Jacob Chase’s film doesn’t reach a new plateau for the genre, his efforts offer an agreeable throwback to the Amblin horror films of yesteryear.
Set during our tech-driven times, Come Play follows Oliver (Azhy Robertson), an autistic adolescent growing up through the aid of his parents (Gillian Jacobs as Sarah and John Gallagher Jr. as Marty) and smart technology. When using his devices, a monster named Larry begins to manifest from the technology, springing to life in horrifying ways.
In his adaptation of his short film Larry, Chase approaches the horror genre through a non-traditional lens. Instead of favoring the scare-a-second aesthetic of modern horror films, Chase’s screenplay allows audiences to immerse themselves in the tight-knit family dynamic. This approach elicits a more potent emotional crux than most horror films, balancing sinister scares with Sarah and Oliver’s genuine comradery (Gillian Jacobs is underrated as always, while Robertson’s portrayal of Oliver never strikes a false note). Chase plays to the old-school Amblin sensibility without being overtly mawkish about it, registering a surprisingly dynamic film that balances the joys and pains of familial dynamics (the melancholic ending is a particular standout).
As a horror craftsman, Chase demonstrates his keen eye for impactful scares. He cleverly utilizes our tech-obsessed landscape to unearth frights from those always illuminating screens, patiently constructing well-timed jump scares from his eerily designed visuals. For a low-budget horror film, I was impressed with Larry’s distinct design. His long, lanky limbs are matched with a multitude of nightmarish forms, as Chase continuously finds new avenues to excite even the most experienced of genre fans.
Come Play achieves several positives within its traditional horror framework, though there’s ultimately little ingenuity speak of. Chase’s script rarely surprises audiences, with predictable plotting and a bevy of generic side characters offering a lingering sense of deja vu. If the writer/director zeroed in on the central dynamics that truly work, Chase could’ve had a special horror hit on his hands.
Still, Jacob Chase’s first outing is a relatively promising one. Come Play colors its horror trappings with an equal measure of craft and heart, making for a solid big-screen outing for any horror-starved audience members.
