10/22/14 (Part One): When History Just Won’t Stay Buried

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31 Days of Halloween, abandoned bunkers, Brett Fancy, British films, cinema, Dead Snow, directorial debut, Dog Soldiers, Enoch Frost, ensemble cast, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, horror, horror films, horror franchises, Julian Rivett, Julian Wadham, Michael Smiley, Movies, Nazi zombies, Nazis, Neil Marshall, Oasis of the Zombies, Outpost, Paul Blair, Rae Brunton, Ray Stevenson, Richard Brake, set in Eastern Europe, soldiers, Steve Barker, UK films, zombies

Despite having seen so few good ones, I’ve always been a fan of Nazi zombie flicks. Chalk it up to seeing “classics” like Shock Waves (1977) and Oasis of the Zombies (1981) when I was I kid but I’ve always had a soft spot for shockers that feature the undead SS, especially when said films tend to take a more serious, dark approach. While Oasis, Shock Waves and Zombie Lake (1981) are all pretty silly entries in this particular subgenre, there have also been real gems like The Bunker (2001), Blood Creek (2009), the hilarious Dead Snow (2009) and The Keep (1983) (although The Keep is a bit of a cheat since it features Nazis and a demon but no Nazi zombies). Chief among these “good” Nazi zombie films, however, would have to be Steve Barker’s creepy, atmospheric feature-debut, Outpost (2007). Making good use of a strong ensemble cast and some genuinely eerie locations, Outpost is a rock-solid horror film that resembles Neil Marshall’s excellent Dog Soldiers (2002) yet manages to have an identity all its own.

Kicking off in present-day Eastern Europe, a fussy bureaucrat by the name of Hunt (Julian Wadham) hires a team of mercenaries to take him into a dangerous no-man’s land so that he can access a long-abandoned World War II-era bunker. Hunt tells the team that he’s after mineral deposits but merc leader DC (Rome’s Ray Stevenson) has his doubts, especially when his team appears to get fired on by unseen assailants. Returning fire with a zeal that should’ve laid a whole city flat, the mercenaries come to find that not only aren’t there any bodies in the nearby woods, there aren’t even any shell casings or signs that anything living was ever in the area.

Things get even eerier once the team descends into the bunker and realizes that nothing is quite as it seems. For one thing, the bunker appears to be an old Nazi fortification, as evidenced by the enormous swastika found in one of the chambers. There’s also an inexplicable room full of dead bodies, bodies which appear to belong to the poor, unfortunate locals in the area. Most importantly, however, the group also comes across a large, mysterious machine that appears to be part combustion engine, part science experiment. This, of course, is the reason that Hunt needed to come to the bunker: in the end, it always come around to some button-pusher’s hidden agenda, doesn’t it?

All hell breaks loose when Hunt powers on the machine and its seems to have the effect of raising the dead, unleashing an army of zombified Nazi soldiers upon the unfortunate mercs and their employer. Unlike the gut-munching zombies of Romero’s classic Night of the Living Dead (1968), these Nazis are the weapon-utilizing variety found in Lenzi’s Nightmare City (1980): in no time, the soldiers are locked in a desperate life-or-death struggle against creatures that shrugged off the mortal coil some time in the past but just can’t seem to stay dead. One zombie in particular, a mute, stone-faced commandant, appears to take charge of the undead legion, leading his troops in blood-thristy pursuit against the living. As DC’s men are picked off, one by one, he must uncover the secret behind the machine and figure out Hunt’s real reason for being there: otherwise, he’s going to be just another body for the war machine to roll over.

Similar to Marshall’s Dog Soldiers, Outpost ends up being an excellent, fast-paced and atmospheric war-horror hybrid that features some fantastic effects work (the makeup, in particular, is great), evocative cinematography and eerie sound design. The bunker location is a truly awesome setting and utilized to great effect by Barker and director of photography Gavin Struthers, in only his second full-length film. The filmmakers wring endless mileage out of the mercs slipping from one dark tunnel to the next, often lit by nothing more than the gentle glow of a light stick: to be honest, it never really gets old, testament to the importance of a good location.

In another nod to Marshall’s debut, the ensemble cast in Outpost is particularly strong, ably anchored by Stevenson’s authoritative performance as DC (in an odd coincidence, Stevenson’s partner-in-Rome, Kevin McKidd, was also in Dog Soldiers). The whole cast is solid, however, featuring reliable character actors like Michael Smiley, Richard Brake and Enoch Frost: their interactions ring true, for the most part, and it’s pretty easy to believe that these guys are not only former soldiers but current comrades, despite their often bristly relationships. Actually caring about the characters is one of the prime requisites for separating “decent” horror films from “good” ones and Outpost has this handily locked down.

While the “zombies using weapons” aspect was initially a little off-putting (I prefer my zombies to be old-school, meaning they shuffle, stumble and chew with their mouths open), it actually fits in perfectly with the film’s “soldier” theme and leads to some truly disturbing scenes, such as the one where the Nazis hammer bullets into one of the mercs. These Nazi are soldiers, first, and zombies second, which is actually kind of refreshing. Despite being more military than monstrous, the Nazis still manage to cut quite the terrifying figures: the scene where they slowly emerge from the woods, surrounded by fog and backlit by a blinding white light, is instantly reminiscent of both Carpenter’s classic The Fog (1980) and Bava’s stylish Demons (1985) and is a real corker.

Ultimately, Outpost succeeds so well because it has modest ambitions and executes them with a sturdy, self-assured hand. While the “mysterious machine” aspect of the film tends to get a little overly complicated (I’m still not quite sure what the logistics of the Nazi plan was supposed to be, although it was obviously nefarious), there’s no shortage of genuine chills and shocks to be found, making sure that the film stays firmly planted in “horror” territory. The ending even leaves the door wide open for a sequel, a promise which Barker would make good on a few years later with Outpost: Black Sun (2012), followed by a further entry, Outpost: Rise of the Spetsnaz in 2013, albeit one not directed by Barker.

And there you have it: a great setting, strong cast, smart script and creative kill scenes combine to make one helluva horror movie. While the early days of the Nazi zombie film might have been overly silly, it looks like Barker is helping to give them a little legitimacy. Here’s to hoping that the Outpost franchise continues to deliver quality chills into the distant future: for this guy, at least, you can never have too many Nazi zombies wandering around.

10/13/14 (Part One): Going to the Dogs

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31 Days of Halloween, action films, aliens, auteur theory, British films, Centurion, Chris Robson, cinema, cult classic, Darren Morfitt, Dog Soldiers, dogs, Doomsday, Emma Cleasby, extreme violence, feature-film debut, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, horror films, horror movies, isolation, James Cameron, Kevin McKidd, Leslie Simpson, Liam Cunningham, Movies, Neil Marshall, Sam McCurdy, Sean Pertwee, soldiers, The Descent, Thomas Lockyer, war games, werewolves, writer-director-editor

Like horror-comedies, action and horror hybrids walk a pretty fine line: too much of the action side of things and you get, well, an action film. A film which features endless scenes of zombies engaged in bone-crunching MMA action might be thrilling but it probably won’t be very blood-chilling. Likewise, traditional zombies that pop out of the background, stumble around and bite people might be horrifying and blood-chilling but probably won’t elicit the kinds of fist-pumping responses we might get from our mixed-martial artist gut-munchers. It’s a real formula, in a way, a formula which very few films really get right. The gold standard for these types of horror-action hybrids, as far as I’m concerned, is James Cameron’s classic Aliens (1986), the direct sequel to Ridley Scott’s horrifying sci-fi classic. Coming in at a close second, however, would have to be writer-director Neil Marshall’s extraordinary feature-film debut, Dog Soldiers (2002). Soldiers fighting werewolves? It doesn’t get much more thrilling than that, friends and neighbors.

As befits its no-nonsense style, Dog Soldiers jumps us into the action fairly quickly and keeps the accelerator floored for the majority of its running time. A small squadron of British soldiers, led by Sgt. Harry Wells (Sean Pertwee) and including Pvt. Cooper (Kevin McKidd) among their ranks, are in the Scottish Highlands for a run-of-the-mill training exercise. They seem to be a good bunch of guys, close-knit and good at what they do: we’ve already spent a little time with Cooper as he tries out for a Special Forces position and know that he’s a helluva fighter with a strong moral center and a particular respect for dogs, which seems to befit the protagonist of a werewolf film.

In short order, our intrepid group of soldiers begins to get the idea that things might not be as copacetic as they originally thought: they constantly hear odd noises in the surrounding forest and someone/thing tosses a slaughtered cow in their general direction, which would be enough to unnerve just about anyone. The situation gets even more extreme once they stumble onto the destroyed campsite of Capt. Ryan (Liam Cunningham) and his Special Forces unit. Ryan was the son of a bitch from the intro to shot the innocent dog but he appears to have seen much better days: he’s cut up pretty bad and looks as white as a ghost. He’s also babbling that “They tore them apart!” and the even more sinister, “There was only supposed to be one!”

Faster than you can say “Full moon,” the squadron are under siege and end up taking refuge with a passing Good Samaritan (Emma Cleasby) at a nearby abandoned farmhouse. As the enraged werewolves try to storm their meager safe house, the soldiers must band together against a foe that seems to be not supernaturally strong but also unbelievably cunning and vicious. There’s more than meets the eye here, however, and the odious Capt. Ryan appears to be right at the very heart of the mystery. What is the secret behind their hirsute attackers and will any of them survive to greet the new day?

Horror films have incorporated action elements for generations but this really became explicit with the rise of horror franchises, such as Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street, in the ’80s. One of the conventions of these type of films, perhaps best exemplified in something like A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: The Dream Warriors (1987), are the scenes where the protagonists engage in heated battle with the main villain. These “action” moments are almost always qualified, however, with the knowledge that the “normal” people are never a match for foes like Jason or Freddy: they might temporarily get the upper hand (at least until the finale) but they’re way to “wimpy” to ever pose any real threat to these super-strong monsters. This is one reason why Scott’s Alien (1979) can be considered a horror film, whereas Cameron’s follow-up is distinctly horror-action: in Alien, the human characters (with the exception of Ripley) are all too weak to even finish off one Xenomorph, let alone a handful of them. The hat-trick that Aliens pulls, then, is to give us a group of protagonists who are utterly and completely badass: Space marines, as it turns out, and set them loose against the alien menace.  This way, we don’t question when the marines are kicking alien ass up one side and down the other (although this doesn’t happen quite as easily as I’ve, obviously, made it sound) because that’s what rough-and-tumble space marines are supposed to do: kick ass.

By making our protagonists tough-guy soldiers, Dog Soldiers levels the playing field quite a bit and allows us to suspend disbelief for the resulting action sequences. We don’t question that these guys have sharp reflexes and are able survivalists because, well, that’s kind of what we expect of soldiers. Since the opponents are more evenly matched (at least slightly more, as the werewolves are still towering, mountainous and furry buzzsaws), this allows for a more even balance between the action and horror elements. There are genuine horror elements in the film, not least of which is the ultimate “reveal” about the werewolves identities, which are allowed to play out at a more leisurely pace. For the most part, however, Dog Soldiers definitely plays like one all-out action sequence after another, similar to the way that Dario Argento liberally sprinkled murder set-pieces throughout his early classics.

For a debut film, Dog Soldiers is a remarkably assured and nearly flawless construction. Marshall also handled the editing of the film and displays a deft talent for putting action scenes together in fast-paced and evocative yet clear ways: this isn’t the chaotic chop-chop editing of Greengrass’ The Bourne Ultimatum (2007) but something that’s altogether more fluid, with characters being much more delineated on the screen. The cinematography, by extension, is also crystal clear and sharp: Sam McCurdy, the director of photography on all of Marshall’s films, thus far, has a real eye for color and detail that gives the proceedings a rich look.

Effects-wise, Dog Soldiers is a complete marvel: the violence is sudden, harsh and well-done, while the creature effects are simply stunning, recalling nothing so much as Rick Baker’s groundbreaking work on The Howling (1981). Unlike films that hide their monsters behind shadows and off the edge of the frame, Dog Soldiers is (rightfully) proud of its lycanthropes and takes every opportunity possible to trot them before the camera. Thanks to the stellar effects work, the creatures look equally imposing whether shot in a long shot or in close up: you won’t see any zippers on these costumes.

One of the most important aspects of any “squadron-based film,” of course, is the effectiveness of the ensemble cast: as with everything else, Dog Soldiers knocks this out of the park. Sean Pertwee does a great job as the Sarge who just wants to get his guys out of the shit and Kevin McKidd (from TV’s Rome) injects enough grit into his performance of Pvt. Cooper to prevent the character from seeming like too much of a “goody-goody” cliché. Cunningham is a rather teeth-gnashing, over-the-top villain, but the performance ends up working, perhaps because it gives the group someone entirely more “manageable” to fight against.

One aspect of Dog Soldiers that sets it a bit apart from similar films (and parallels it with Cameron’s Aliens) is the film’s overall serious tone and intent: while there are the occasional clever one-liners and cheeky moments, the emphasis is definitely on adrenaline over the easy release that comic relief affords. Truth be told, the film’s funniest moment is also one of its most badass: as Spoon (Darren Morfitt) is about to be devoured by a werewolf, he tosses out the immortal retort, “I hope I give you the shits, you fucking wimp!” Epic, indeed.

For my money, Neil Marshall is, hands-down, one of the single most impressive genre directors in the business. While I’ve enjoyed some of his films more than others (Dog Soldiers and The Descent (2005) occupy a pretty lofty perch, whereas Doomsday (2008) and Centurion (2010) reside a bit closer to solid ground), I’ve never been anything less than completely entertained with any of his work: he’s the kind of director that can get me excited for any project, sight unseen, and is a filmmaker that I expect to follow for several good decades to come. It’s always handy, however, to go back to the beginning and see how it all started. For Marshall, it started with this thrilling, edge-of-the-seat classic about werewolves and the soldiers who fight them and it doesn’t show any signs of stopping anytime soon. Utterly essential for genre fans and anyone who relishes a ripping good, military-themed action film.

6/4/14: Watching the Watchers

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alternate title, Chun Ho-jin, cinema, confusing, DMZ, film reviews, films, flashbacks, foreign films, GP506, guard post, horror, horror film, horror films, horror movies, infections, isolation, Jo Hyun-jae, Korean Demilitarized Zone, Korean films, Lee Jeong-heon, Lee Yeong-hoon, Lieutenant Yoo, military coverup, Movies, R-Point, race against time, soldiers, Su-Chang Kong, The Guard Post, The Thing, writer-director

If location is king, in horror films, than the oppressive, claustrophobic, abandoned guard post that serves as the setting for Su-Chang Kong’s The Guard Post (alt title: GP506) must be some kind of an emperor. Looking like some creepy mash-up of an insane asylum and old-school prison, the titular guard post is one sprawling mess of endless corridors, mysteriously closing steel doors and oddly oozing pipes. To add to the overall effect, the South Korean guard post is situated directly across the DMZ from the opposing North Korean guard post, with the live-wire tension from both countries never more than a hair-trigger away. It would make a helluva setting for any film, let along a horror film, and Kong uses it to masterful effect in his paranoid, grisly, kinda-sorta remake of John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982). If the actual film ends up being a rather jumbled, confusing but endlessly intriguing curiosity, let no one say that Kong didn’t wring every last drop of atmosphere from his location.

The film’s begins with a small troop of S. Korean soldiers pouring en masse into the titular guard post, GP506. At first glance, there definitely appears to be something wrong: despite the outpost’s “active” status, there’s no one around and the atmosphere is oppressive. Presently, the soldiers find the outpost’s occupants, hacked to pieces and stacked like firewood in one room, while a bare-chested soldier stands over them with a bloody axe, giggling. With that, we’re off to the races.

Sergeant Major Noh (Chun Ho-jin) is called in to investigate the incident, which carries a few qualifiers: since the head of the guard post, 1st Lieutenant Yoo (Jo Hyun-jae), is the son of a high-ranking military official (and currently unaccounted for), special care must be taken. The wrong move, wrong conclusion or wrong accusation could end Noh’s career, he’s told, and a contingency plan is already in effect: he has until six in the morning (roughly 8 hours) to get to the bottom of everything before military “cleaners” will be called in to erase all traces of the incident. Noh’s first task is identifying the mysterious axe-wielder, a task that proves remarkably easy (Noh is quite the sleuth, apparently), but the knowledge ends up bringing more answers than questions. When another survivor turns up, claiming to be 1st Lt. Yoo, the plot begins to thicken even more.

In time, Noh comes to realize that something evil has happened to the men in GP506. As he unravels more of the mystery, via journal entries and video-cam footage, Noh gradually understands that something infected Yoo’s men, something that caused them to go berserk and kill each other…something that may very well still be hanging around. As the clock ticks down towards 6AM, the situation in the guard post becomes more critical: Noh’s men are starting to show symptoms of the mysterious disease, symptoms that manifest themselves in such delightful ways as self-mutilation and uncontrolled rage. Will Noh be able to get to the bottom of the mystery before he and all of his men are killed? What is the true secret behind the tragic events at GP506? And why can they only account for 19 of the 21 soldiers at the guard post? Noh will come to realize that the no-man’s-land inside GP506 can be far more lethal than the one outside its doors.

Thanks to a truly great location, The Guard Post practically drips atmosphere from the very first frame. For a time, the atmosphere and rather vague storyline work hand in hand but, over time, the increasingly complex structure (multiple flashbacks that bounce back to the present with no warning, right down to matches-on-action) begins to wear one down (or, at least, it wore me down). Add to this the fact that nearly every character in the film, with the exception of Sergeant Major Noh, are fairly anonymous and interchangeable and you get a film that can often be downright baffling. At several points in the film, I felt completely lost as to the timeline, although everything ends up making more sense by the end (The Guard Post is one of those rare films where looking back on it actually tends to fix, rather than find, plot holes). Nonetheless, the film proved to be a particularly disorienting experience, especially once I realized that the subtitles on the streaming version of the film were incomplete, at best. For the most part, only the first part of any character’s speech was translated, leading to such gems of information as “Are you telling me that this is…,” “I can’t believe that you mean…” and “Is this like…” When their dialogue was short, this wasn’t an issue. Whenever things got expository, however, it felt like I was reading only page out of a stack of stenographer’s notes. Essentially, any of the connective tissue that I needed to really “understand” what was going on was missing. I got the general idea, to be sure, but I’m still frightfully short on the specifics, which is kind of a frustrating experience.

As a whole, The Guard Post is well-made and certainly reminded me of Kong’s debut, the much better R-Point (2004). The cinematography is evocative and atmospheric and the creepy score adds a lot to the feel. On the negative side, Kong seems particularly fond of an irritating “slow-down” effect that frequently made the image glitchy and added nothing whatsoever to the overall feel. The makeup and effects are all pretty top-notch and exceptionally gooey, particularly in scenes such as the one where an infected soldier is, essentially, shot into multiple pieces. The violence is never too in-your-face, especially as compared to other South Korean genre offerings, but it’s never shied away from, either.

Ultimately, I found myself rather conflicted by The Guard Post. On the one hand, I feel that it nailed its atmosphere and sense of creeping dread perfectly and Chun Ho-jin was a remarkably charismatic presence as Noh. Unlike the other characters, Noh actually felt fleshed-out and multi-dimensional, making his ultimate journey that much more tragic. Too often, however, it was a situation where one anonymous character would reveal something to another anonymous character, while I would patiently wait to see how it all connected. There were actually several moments in the film that approximated the “Aha!” moments from medical TV shows like House and these always felt strange and out-of-place, as if I were constantly missing significant information. The Guard Post is one of the few films I’ve seen recently where the style wins out over the substance, simply by virtue of it being easier to “feel” what’s going on rather than to “understand” the events.

Fans of South Korean cinema, as well as anyone who truly appreciates the rather narrow subgenre of military-themed horror films (consider me a huge fan) will certainly find lots to appreciate in Kong’s most recent film. For those who may have a little less patience, however, there’s much of The Guard Post that will come across as a hard slog through rough terrain. Perhaps it says something that I appreciated the film enough to actually watch a physical copy, sometime, and see if that annoying subtitle issue goes away. As it stands, however, The Guard Post feels like two-thirds of a pretty good film in desperate need of that missing part.