The Year in Review: The Best Horror Films of 2015 (Honorable Mentions)

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2015, All Hallows' Eve 2, Best of 2015, cinema, Circle, Deep Dark, Digging Up the Marrow, Extinction, film reviews, films, horror, horror films, horror movies, Knock Knock, Last Shift, Lost After Dark, Love in the Time of Monsters, Movies, personal opinions, Pod, Spring, Stung, Suburban Gothic, The Gift, The Midnight Swim, Wyrmwood: Road of the Dead, Zombeavers

Just how good was the “Year in Horror,” circa 2015? It was so good, dear friends and readers, that your humble host had to compile a whole separate listing to contain all of the amazing films that just missed the “Best of” by this much (you can’t see it but it’s about a centimeter, give or take). In any other year, any or every one of these little gems might have made the big list: hell, once all is said and done, I’m sure I’ll second-guess at least a few of these and kick myself, anyway.

With no further ado, then (and in no particular order whatsoever), I present the seventeen runner-ups to Best Horror Films of 2015. If the “Best Ofs” are Rolls Royces, these are Jaguars. In other words, you just can’t go wrong taking any of ’em out for a spin.

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Love in the Time of Monsters — Pure fun from start to finish, this is one of the most unabashed good times I had watching a film all year. Full of endearing, quirky characters, a really great concept (the people who play Sasquatch at a Bigfoot-themed tourist trap are turned into murderous monsters by toxic waste), some great, gory special effects and one of the most kickass finales in some time, this isn’t perfect but it’s pretty darn awesome, nonetheless.

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Pod — Claustrophobic, endlessly tense and with a genuinely smart pay-off, the only thing that holds Pod back from neo-classic status are a set of performances that are slightly too intense and shouty for their own good. When the film is focused on the creeping, oppressive atmosphere and the question of just what, exactly, is down in the basement, there were few films that got under my skin quite like this.

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Last Shift — Full disclosure: I absolutely loathed the last film I saw by writer-director Anthony DiBlasi, the patently terrible Clive Barker adaptation, Dread. Combined with the truly terrible cover art for his newest, Last Shift, I had absolutely no interest in seeing the film whatsoever. Good thing I choked back my bias, however, because Last Shift isn’t just a good film: it’s an absolutely great one. Barring the stereotypical and cliched finale, everything about this film is a master study in minimal effort for maximum unease. Think of it as a ruthlessly slow-burning variant on Assault on Precinct 13 (kinda sorta) and that’ll get you close enough. I’m not to proud to say when I’m wrong: sorry, Anthony D…this was a keeper.

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The Gift — Not strictly a horror film but close enough for government work, actor-writer Joel Edgerton’s directorial debut is, hands-down, one of the subtlest, meanest and most uncompromising films of the year. Based on the idea that we’re only ever a stones’ throw from the sins of our past, The Gift features a trio of razor-sharp performances (Bateman, playing completely against type, is utterly magnificent) and the kind of twist that used to be Shyamalan’s stock in trade. This is psychological horror of the highest caliber and destined for classic status, down the road.

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Knock Knock — This one completely surprised me. While Knock Knock features the usual tonal shifts, inappropriate humor and “thinking bro observations” that are endemic to Eli Roth’s entire filmography, there’s something about this sneaky little gem that sank its hooks into me and wouldn’t let go. Come for the sick head-games, screwy gender politics and shocking level of restraint (suffice to say, this is the first Roth film that doesn’t feature copious gore) but do stay for the scene where poor Keanu discusses, in detail, his inability to turn down free pizza. This should have been completely wretched but, somehow, ended up being pretty good. Surprise, surprise.

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Digging Up the Marrow — In a true gift to genre fans, writer-director Adam Green (the mastermind behind the Hatchet franchise and under-rated “stuck on a ski-lift” epic, Frozen) teamed up with renowned monster illustrator Alex Pardee and the results are some of the flat-out coolest, creepiest and most awe-inspiring, diverse monsters to hit the silver screen since Clive Barker’s Nightbreed took us to Midian. The story, itself, is pretty meta for this type of thing: Green (playing himself) is invited by the always amazing Ray Wise (not playing himself) to check out some honest to goodness monsters. Things, as expected, don’t go well. More monsters on screen would have pushed this into the next echelon but what’s here is pretty damn unforgettable.

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Lost After Dark — In a genre where throwbacks to previous eras have become not only more popular but virtually expected, finding a new horror film that apes a ’70s or ’80s horror film really isn’t that hard. Finding one with the consistent quality, high production values and subtle wit of Lost After Dark, however, isn’t quite so easy. While writer-director Ian Kessner doesn’t do anything radically different, he does manage to nail all of the stylistic quirks of his intended homage, all while conducting things with a modicum more seriousness and less meta tongue-in-cheek than we usually get. If Lost After Dark really were an ’80s film, I’m pretty sure we’d be seeing homages to it right around this time.

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Extinction — Like Lost After Dark, Extinction doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel but, instead, doubles-down on what makes its particular sub-genre (zombie films) such an intrinsic part of our horror-loving culture. The performances are solid (Burn Notice’s Jeffrey Donovan is particularly good), the twists and revelations come across as fairly organic and the whole “zombie outbreak in a frozen wasteland” scenario is explored to good effect. Is this one of the best zombie films ever? Not even close. Was it the best zombie film of 2015? Maybe.

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Stung — Going in, I expected this to be another silly, over-the-top horror-comedy: after all, caterers standing as the last line of defense between a mob of giant, mutant wasps and the sniveling local aristocracy at a posh garden party sounds like the kind of thing that could, troublingly, be dubbed “zany.” Imagine my surprise and delight, then, when Stung turned out to be much more serious than that. Essentially an old-fashioned “giant insect” film with deft touches of pitch-black humor, this was just about a grand slam. Fantastic creature effects (easily in the Top 5 of this year), fun performances (Lance Henriksen gets a nice bit as the elderly, tough-as-nails mayor), some really great setpieces and some genuinely smart tweaks to convention (suffice to say there’s more than a little bit of Cronenbergian body horror here) make this an easy recommendation.

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Zombeavers — In a year with more top-notch horror-comedies than you could shake a funny bone at, Zombeavers wasn’t the creme de la creme but it still held its own. With an intriguingly gonzo premise (mutant, zombified beavers attack partying young people, all hell breaks loose), an all-in cast, some fairly outrageous gore effects and a helluva lot of impolite, politically-incorrect humor (the bit where the “wild girl” doffs her top, for no reason, only to be chided by a stereotypical backwoods yokel for making a spectacle of herself is but one example of the filmmakers biting the hand that feeds), Zombeavers is pretty much the perfect party film. Silly, funny but distinctly horror-minded, Zombeavers is one horror-comedy with real teeth.

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The Midnight Swim — Beautifully made, expertly acted and genuinely unsettling, writer-director Sarah Adina Smith’s The Midnight Swim was one of the most thought-provoking films I screened all year. This is a subtle film, certainly more sororal relationship drama than hard-core fright film. Look closer, however, and you’ll see that the concepts being discussed here (loss of the self, life after death, the dark mysteries of bottomless bodies of water) are the same sort of things explored in plenty of more “traditional” horror films. While those looking for gore and explosions should keep walking, anyone with a thirst for genuinely smart, evocative cinema should have no problem diving into the deep end.

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Suburban Gothic — Essentially a lesser version of Peter Jackson’s superior The Frighteners or Gerard Johnstone’s far superior Housebound (or a much, much better version of the inept Odd Thomas, if you prefer), Suburban Gothic stars Criminal Minds’ Matthew Gray Gubler as a grown man who moves back into his parents’ house and immediately begins seeing spooky things. Kat Dennings and Gubler make a fairly cute couple, Ray Wise is typically excellent as Gubler’s hateful, racist dad and the whole thing has a light-hearted feel that makes it endlessly breezy and rather pleasant. Barring a few scenes of extraordinarily stupid physical comedy, this was definitely a sleeper.

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Spring — Of the two indie-romance-inspired “guy dates a monster” films that were released in 2015 (the much more problematic Honeymoon being the other), Spring is definitely the better one. Featuring strong performances from both Lou Taylor Pucci and Nadia Hilker, great use of the picturesque Italian countryside and a decidedly Lovecraftian bent, this metaphor for the joys and terrors of new relationships is appropriately icky, when necessary, while also managing to be genuinely heartfelt and emotionally resonant. Small surprise that this is from Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead, the filmmakers behind the stunning Resolution and two of the most promising new filmmakers out there.

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All Hallows’ Eve 2 — One of the biggest surprises of the whole year for me, All Hallows’ Eve 2 was the equivalent of finding a golden ticket in my Wonka Bar. While I genuinely liked and respected the ultra-gory, no budget original film, nothing about this more polished and expensive follow-up inspired early confidence. Turns out I was wrong, however, since this modest little anthology ended up being one of the best I’ve seen in the past few years. While nowhere near the feral insanity of the original, this is still a rock-solid horror film with plenty of good ideas and no shortage of red stuff for the gorehounds. It’s no Trick ‘r Treat, mind you, but really…what is?

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Wyrmwood: Road of the Dead — Gleefully bonkers, this outrageous splatter film manages to deliver just what the cover promises: Mad Max meets Dawn of the Dead. Detailing one badass mofo’s trek across the zombie-ravaged Australian Outback, in search of his sister (kidnapped by mad scientists), while wearing homemade armor, there really aren’t a lot of films like this out there. Although the film is frequently quite funny (Leon Burchill provides excellent comic support as the sassy Aborigine sidekick), it’s actually more of a straight-forward horror/action flick than the synopsis might make it sound. While the exterior scenes provide plenty of tension, it’s the sweaty, claustrophobic sequences in the scientist’s lair that pack the biggest punch.

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Circle — With a simple concept, obviously low budget, largely unknown cast and lack of unnecessary backstory, Aaron Hann and Mario Miscione’s Circle instantly recalls another sci-fi sleeper: Vincenzo Natali’s classic Cube. Like Cube, Circle is a film that purposely keeps the audience off balance, wondering just what the hell is happening onscreen. By the time we get the full story, the film is already rolling the final credits, which is just the way it should be. Smart, economical and legitimately fascinating, I have a sneaking suspicion that Circle will enjoy the same favored status as Cube in the next decade or so. I went in expecting nothing and was completely blown away: that’s the definition of a nice surprise.

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Deep Dark — This year saw the release of two excellent films about sad sack losers receiving life advice from holes in their grimy apartment walls (if this baffles you, we obviously don’t run in the same circles): we’ll get to Motivational Growth later (I know, I know…”spoiler alert”)…Deep Dark is the other one. Although I prefer the batshit insanity of Motivational Growth, that has less to do with the quality of Michael Medaglia’s Deep Dark than it does with my personal sensibilities. Needless to say, if Motivational Growth wouldn’t have dropped this year, I’m pretty sure that Deep Dark would’ve got called up to the majors. This dark fable of a starving artist who seeks inspiration from a strange, fleshy hole in his apartment wall features blood-spraying art mobiles, man-on-wall sex and that all important warning: be careful what you wish for. Indeed.

 

11/21/15 (Part One): The Hole Truth and Nothing But the Truth

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Anne Sorce, artists, cinema, Deep Dark, Denise Poirier, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, horror, horror films, John Nielsen, Monica Graves, Movies, Sean McGrath, Tabor Helton, tortured artists, writer-director

Inspiration is a funny thing. A great idea can strike at any time, as sudden and organic as a rain storm, as torrential and disruptive as a tornado. One can be doing nothing more intensive than walking across the street when…bam! A random passerby sparks an idea, someone drops their handbag and the next Catcher in the Rye is born.

The ancient Greeks and Romans viewed inspiration as coming at the hands of some sort of external “muse,” the physical manifestation of that wholly inexplicable genesis of a genuinely great idea. With the proper muse, any poet, sculptor or painter of ancient renown could produce works that would impress not only their current generation but last the test of time. Every artist needs their muse.

Writer-director Michael Medaglia’s exceptionally disturbing Deep Dark (2015) examines this notion of the creative muse from a view slightly askew, resulting in one of the more interesting, dark and illuminative films I screened this year. If anything, Deep Dark established itself as the more grounded, (slightly) respectable version of another of my favorite films of the year, Motivational Behavior (2015). To coin a new phrase: Approximating greatness can, in its own way, become a sort of greatness.

Our guide through this particular patch of strange ground is Hermann Haig (Sean McGrath), the sad-sack mobile-artist who serves as our source of identification and empathy (what little there is). Hermann is, for lack of a better word, kind of a loser: he still lives at home with his mother, produces increasingly shabby installations to an increasingly uncaring public and seems one certain decision away from blowing his brains all over the back wall. In other words, Hermann is the epitome of the misunderstood artiste.

After hitting rock bottom when a planned installation sprays arterial blood all over the glitterati, Hermann finds himself in the rare position of approaching his “sell-out” artist uncle, Felix (John Nielsen), and asking for whatever manner of assistance he might provide. Uncle Felix offers to rent Hermann the apartment (shabby though it might be) that provided him the inspiration to become a self-sustaining artist. Hermann might consider himself the ultimate outsider artist but the desire to provide a roof over his head proves too much and he ends up relenting.

This, of course, leads us to the film’s central conceit, as Hermann discovers a hole behind an excessively strange painting of a peacock in the dreary, run-down apartment. This hole, as you might surmise, isn’t the usual kind of hole one might find in a wall. For one thing, it has a voice: an alluring female voice, as it turns out. For another thing, the hole appears to lead into some sort of strange, fleshy organic material: certainly not the sort of thing one usually finds insulating walls in older residences. Finally, the hole promises to turn Hermann into the buzz-bin artist that he’s always assumed he would be…no mean feat, if you think about it.

In no time, Hermann has used the mysterious hole to get a head-up on his competition, creating mobiles that seem to drive viewers absolutely mad with admiration. All he needed, as it turns out, is the strange, fleshy material that the hole produces after…well…let’s just say, after being “stimulated” and leave it at that. When gallery owner/failed artist Devora Klein (Anne Sorce) gets wind of Hermann’s “assistance,” however, she becomes determined to use the strange hole to further her own frustrated art career. Will Hermann be able to remain true to his (decidely strange) muse or is inspiration more a question of proximity than need?

As any long-time readers of The VHS Graveyard will note, your humble host prizes strange, difficult and outre cinema beyond all else. As especially astute viewers might recall, we previously visited an exceptional little film called Motivational Growth (2015) earlier in the year and were completely blown away. If it helps, consider Deep Dark to be “Motivational Growth: Take Two.” While nowhere near as strange and wonderful as that prior film, Deep Dark dives deep enough into the deep end to satisfy our weird itch and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Let’s get one thing out of the way, right off the bat: Deep Dark is a fundamentally strange film and that’s definitely part of the appeal. Whether we’re witnessing Hermann’s failed attempts at “art” (hope you like spraying blood) or an unbelievably disturbing human/wall sex scene (yeah, it goes there), this is a film that revels in throwing strange and disturbing shit at the wall. Luckily (?) for us, most us it sticks.

Whether Hermann’s ultra-disturbing dream where he pulls a chain from his navel (spoiler: there will be blood) or pretty much any of the scenes involving the wall (I don’t know about you but “fingering” a wall to ecstacy is just weird, no matter how you look at it), Deep Dark is absolutely genius at burrowing under your skin and staying there. Like the best (?) fever dreams, Deep Dark has an insane logic all its own, a logic that’s genuinely painful to minds more accustomed to a straight-forward A-to-Z narrative.

Here, gentle readers, is where we get into the trust portion of this particular exercise. As with Motivational Growth, nothing about this general description of this film should inspire any assurance of quality: after all, this is a film where a highly disturbed artist fucks a wall in order to receive the ickily organic “flesh balls” that he needs to complete his mobile installations. If you just backed-up your breakfast, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that this isn’t for you.

If, however, you can get on the right wavelength…if you can choke back your gag reflex and just go with it…Deep Dark is one helluva film. Really. From the all-in performances to the genuinely disturbing effects (the stuff involving the wall is, to use a scientific term, “way gross”) to the mind-blowing ultimate revelation (you’ll never think about “true love” in the same way), this is one impressive film.

With a visual aesthetic that splits the difference between “grimy” and “whimsical,” a score that accentuates the above and performances that ride the line between “realistic” and “way out there,” it’s easy to view Deep Dark as a particularly twisted fairy tale and that’s not far off the actual mark. Like the best films, Deep Dark asks you to take a pretty big leap of faith and then pays off the sacrifice ten-fold: love it or hate it, it’s impossible to have anything approaching a “whatever” attitude regarding this strange little film.

Ultimately, Motivational Growth is going to be my go-to, totally inappropriate source of  personal advice for calendar year 2015. If that little gem didn’t exist, however, I have a feeling that Deep Dark would easily take its place. If nothing else, this prove the time-old adage: Believe half of what the hole shows you and none of what it says. Keep this is mind, friends and neighbors, and I think you’re gonna do just fine.