Montgomery Dark (Clancy Brown) is a mortician on the verge of retirement. He still very much enjoys his work, but with a Help Wanted sign outside, Montgomery Dark is looking for new blood. Then one day a young woman named Sam (Caitlin Fisher) answers that wanted ad and applies for the position, whatever that may be. What follows is a series of short stories as told by Montgomery to his new apprentice on what could be the very last night of their lives.
The Mortuary Collection is a horror anthology movie coming to Shudder with a spectacular looking production value, all tipped off nicely by a creepy and sometimes comical script and a larger than life performance by cult actor Clancy Brown.
A collection of Morality tales, The Mortuary Collection sets its tale in decades gone by, evoking the Fifties right through to the Seventies although it’s difficult to tell when exactly the movie is set.
Supposedly this adds to the timeless quality of the movie, where fans of horror can indulge in anything from Lovecraftian bathroom scares to Halloween slasher pastiches. However, it could be said that the subgenres that it ties itself to so closely are its constraint, because as well done it is and as lovely it is to look at, The Mortuary Collection sometimes feels like style over substance.
Having a horror anthology with a single writer/director (Ryan Spindell) also limits the range of the stories, although often critiqued by the characters themselves for their unoriginality, some different voices with different things to bring to the table may have added more variety.
All the actors play their parts well, but there isn’t really one story that stands out over any other and some different artistic styles and visions may have helped to liven it up.
Although for fans of a bit of tongue in cheek horror with buckets of blood, gore and… um, well other bodily fluids, then The Mortuary Collection may just be what you’re looking for. After all, who could deny themselves the pleasure of watching Clancy Brown camping it up for a few laughs?
I don’t know whether it was the 2.00am start, the fact that I’d just finished The Haunting of Bly Manor, or that I was absolutely shattered after a long, hard days work, but Blumhouse’s newest entry into the Welcome to the Blumhouse canon creeped up on me like a faceless lady wandering mindlessly around a old English stately home.
After watching Black Box a couple of weeks ago and coming out somewhat underwhelmed but its made-for-television aesthetic and inconsistent and half-baked plot, I had started to wonder whether I’d made the wrong choice in what to watch. I’ve since checked out The Lie (which was the other option that night) on Amazon Prime and came away figuring that Black Box probably was the better of the two. This whole experience left me somewhat apprehensive about Nocturne, my choice for last night’s virtual premiere. I could have checked out Evil Eye instead, but Nocturne, written and directed by Zu Quirke, looked the more interesting option.
Still, I can’t say I was expecting much. As I said, I’ve already been left underwhelmed by this series, and so part of me was assuming I’d be met with yet another not-good-enough-for-cinema-release offering. So, I was pleasantly surprised when it actually did sort of unsettle me.
Let’s be clear, it isn’t perfect. Playing out like a sort of schlocky rendition of Black Swan set in a classical music school, Nocturne stumbles along, never entirely sure what to do with its admittedly intriguing premise. The concept of passion, obsession, possession and the like is right up my street, so I’ll hold my hand up now and say I’m somewhat biased. But even though it suffers from long stretches of dullness and an inability to effectively use what could be a genuinely frightening image of a dead girl to its advantage, the typical, now almost formulaic, Blumhouse approach of jump scares and sudden loud music stingers were enough to keep me entertained, while the subtler aspects of a slow decent into obsession and madness were enough to keep me engaged.
Much like Black Box before it, Nocturne definitely suffers from that kind of horrible made-for-television feel. There are things here that just look cheap and, as a result, cheapen their impact (hello aforementioned dead girl), but there is also enough meat to the concept that it never feels like its overcomplicating itself or getting itself tangled in a mess of plot holes and inconsistencies in the way I felt with Black Box.
The lead performance, but star Sydney Sweeney, is solid. She manages to capture that sense of bubbling resentment, frustration, and a longing for something more, incredibly well. Given recent events surrounding the arts here in the UK, as well, there is something to be said about a film that acknowledges just how important art can be to some people, and how, so often as it is, unflinchingly cruel, unfair, and miserable pursuing your dreams can be.
The story revolves around Sweeney’s Juliet, a shy music student who lacks the confidence, bravado, and talent of her twin sister, Vivian (played by Madison Iseman), despite her willingness to put in more work, and her obvious passion for the subject. For Juliet music isn’t just a thing she does for fun, it is her calling and her entire reason for being, and that kind of devotion to an art speaks to me. When Juliet discovers a mysterious notebook belonging to a classmate who recently committed suicide by throwing herself out a window, things take a more genre-like turn as our protagonist starts to experience strange visions, bizarre goings on, and begins to change in a far more outspoken, brash, and almost arrogant individual.
Whether or not any of this is real or is simply the result of a mind so consumed by obsession and desire is left somewhat ambiguous, and although the ending was so obvious as to be almost pointless, the journey to get there had just enough twists, turns, interesting moments, and engaging performances to keep me watching.
Of the three Welcome to the Blumhouse projects I’ve seen so far, Nocturne is easily my favorite. It may not be entirely successful in its attempts to portray the struggles of those of us who do see certain artforms as a calling, but it is smart enough to offer up plenty of distraction in the form of weird imagery and ghost-train style scares here and there to paper over those cracks.
Perhaps the biggest missed opportunity, however, is the way in which the film lands on what could be a truly chilling and thoughtful ending before undermining it with the more obvious and schlocky one. In a way that small issue is a microcosm of the movie as a whole. An enjoyable but predictable experience that is so close to being so much more than it ultimately is.
Malcom (Jack Foley) wakes up one morning with no recollection of how he got there or who he is. He meets Helen (Laura Tremblay) who tells him that she is his wife and that he has been suffering from short term memory loss. A while later, Helen opens the door and it’s their friend, Ian (Mike Donis) who comes inside and hopes to help Malcolm regain his memory.
However, later that night Malcolm and Helen are woken up to intruders who try and force Malcolm to open their safe, but with Malcolm not having any idea who he is let alone the safe combination, they knock him out.
When Malcolm wakes up the next day, he cannot remember a thing about the night before and goes about his day with his wife and his son, Samuel (Evan Siemann) who’s celebrating a sixth birthday. Little does Malcolm realise that although he may have forgotten the events of the night before, the intruders haven’t and they’re coming back to get into Malcolm’s safe by any means necessary.
Fugue is an intense home invasion thriller with familiar tropes that have been used time and time again when it comes to protagonists suffering from memory loss. Right from the start the audience may be wondering whether Malcolm is really in a situation that he is and so suspicion falls onto Helen and Ian from the word go.
Both are being rather cagey and seem to be hiding something, however the extent of their deception is played so well that although the audience may know where the plot is going, the performances are enjoyable enough.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9txZxp0KXE
However, there’s enough to distract the audience, at least for the most part, so that it doesn’t really matter whether the audience realise how familiar the story may be, not to mention the large plot hole that never gets addressed.
All the actors play their parts well, particularly Tremblay and Donis who play well off each other when the full extent of their relationship is revealed. Fugue’s plot may not be all that original and the low budget Inception-like plot may grate a little, but it’s enjoyable enough as long as you don’t think about it too hard.
Vampires vs. The Bronx is the first of several horror-centric titles set to hit Netflix during the month of October. Successfully tying-in with an upcoming holiday is often easier said than done though, as the streaming giant’s 2019 Halloween slate (Fractured and In the Tall Grass) failed to generate a positive impression. Thankfully, their latest horror venture unearths a promising debut from writer/director Osmany Rodriguez, delivering a spirited adventure that intelligently connects its thrills to our societal zeitgeist.
The film follows Miguel aka “Young Mayor” (Jaden Mitchell), Bobby (Gerald Jones III), and Luis (Gregory Diaz IV), a trio of precocious teens adamantly standing against the gentrification of their neighborhood. New tenets aren’t the only issue, as the three quickly realize their neighbors are blood-thirsty vampires.
Instead of fixating on superficial thrills, Rodriguez’s film aptly grounds itself in a sense of place. The opening act soundly establishes our characters and their beloved neighborhood with charm and style, whisking audiences into a lively place that sings with personality (including a few playoff homages to Spike Lee). Rodriguez’s script defines his world with a very genuine eye, drafting free-flowing conversations and witty banter that fly right off the page. It helps that the central stars, Mitchell, Jones III, and Diaz IV, make for a dynamic trio, with the young performers elevating what could be archetype roles (cameos by Method Mad and The Kid Mero are also quite fun).
As good horror should, Vampires vs. The Bronx reflects on societal dynamics. Instead of crafting a lengthy thesis on gentrification, Rodriguez addresses the systematic problem through the film’s playful humor. This approach feels tailor-made for the horror/comedy tonality, discarding a self-serious preachiness that plagues other entries in the genre. I also appreciate the finite tonal line Rodriguez totes, creating an approachable family horror film that still isn’t afraid to throw some dramatic stakes at its adolescent audiences.
There’s fun to be had with Vampires vs. The Bronx, though its pleasures are relatively slight. The narrative often feels bogged down by cliched plot beat, with the personable qualities Rodriguez imbues only covering so much ground. There are also some struggles when the film dances outside its core focus, with a B-plot involving the allures of gangster life lacking the dimension to register a strong impression.
When operating at its apex, Vampires vs. The Bronx thrives as an inspired remix of genre influences.
Supernova, director Harry Macqueen’s follow-up to 2014 debut Hinterland, is a heartfelt and deeply affecting look at one couple coming to terms with an inevitable reality. Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci play Sam and Tusker, together for twenty years, enjoying a camper van holiday across England to visit family and look back on their fondest memories. Tusker is struggling with early onset dementia, and Sam fearful of a life without his best friend.
While the film certainly brings back memories of Michael Haneke’s devastating yet brilliant Amour, Macqueen’s approach is a little different. It’s a warm, affectionate and charming picture that reels the audience in with the likeability of its central characters and entertains every bit as much as it hurts.
Firth and Tucci are, undoubtedly, hugely responsible for the film’s success; two superbly talented and experienced actors with a wonderful chemistry that unfolds like magic on the screen. We really feel as if these characters have a history that is being threatened, and we truly grow to love them and care for their plight. Their commitment to their character traits and to the story’s most upsetting moments really sell the heartbreak of the situation; a long-term, happy and loving relationship is slowly fading away before our very eyes.
Both Sam and Tusker have to come to terms with a great deal in Supernova. They are fully aware that this may very well be their last trip together, at least while Tusker is of his right mind, and he’s terrified of losing sight of himself and becoming somebody else. Meanwhile, Sam is doubtful of his ability to look after him but determined to do whatever he needs. Both clearly know an unspoken truth that they’re hesitant to admit to themselves or each other, and those worries manifest themselves in several touching moments, particularly during a heart-breaking toast at a family dinner.
It’s not perfect, by any means. It’s a tad conventional and the script occasionally comes across a little clunky and on-the-nose, but it doesn’t really matter. Sam and Tucker are so likeable and authentic that the film comfortably succeeds in its approach to loss and mortality.
Supernova isn’t doing anything necessarily knew, but it’s doing it well. It’s a sincere, gentle and charming look at the things we do for the ones we love, and the closing moments will break the hearts of even the most hard-nosed of viewers.
SUPERNOVA, starring Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci and directed by Harry Macqueen, will now be released in cinemas on Friday 20th November.
