The 31 Days of Halloween (2018): 10/8-10/14

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31 Days of Halloween, Halloween, Halloween traditions, horror, horror films, horror movies, Housewife, neighbors, October, Puppet Master The Littlest Reich, Stitches, Terrified, Terrifier, Terrortory 2, The Windmill

A little late but, at long last: Week Two of the 31 Days of Halloween! This week featured three unplanned variations on the word “terror” (Terrifier, Terrified and Terrortory 2), along with a couple of older favorites and one of the most gonzo, over-the-top headfucks I’ve seen in some time. With no further ado: the 31 Days of Halloween continues.

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Terrifier (2018)

Picking up where writer/director Damien Leone’s All Hallows’ Eve left off, Terrifier puts us back in the bad company of Art the Clown, serial killer extraordinaire. This time around, the anthology format is ditched for a more straight-forward, grindhouse slasher feel that focuses exclusively on Art and the mess he makes over the course of one very gory Halloween eve. As the body count rises, will anyone be able to put an end to the evil clown’s reign of terror?

Here’s the thing with Terrifier: it’s the cinematic equivalent of a game of freeway chicken and your appreciation of said offering will really depend on whether you swerve first. Leone and crew have perfectly captured the feel of sleazy, vile, unrepentant “golden era” slasher films, the kind that played in back-alley dives rather than big theaters. The film is ridiculously gory (one setpiece involves sawing someone in half with a hacksaw) and features truly impressive practical effects. It’s ugly, arguably misogynistic (although just as many men as women are slaughtered in the film), full of casual “acting,” oddly paced and possessed by one of the truly unforgettable modern-day boogeymen in Art the Clown. Terrifier is inventive, disgusting, tedious and, every so often, mind-blowing. It’s a film that my teenaged self would have probably obsessed over but one that my middle-aged self might accuse of trying a little too hard. If you’re looking for blood, guts and grime, look no further than Terrifier but be forewarned: this is just about as extreme as non-underground horror offerings get.

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Stitches (2012)

Sleazebag birthday clown Stitches (comedian Ross Noble) meets an untimely end at the hands of a bunch of truly shitty kids. Years later, Stitches returns from the dead, seeking revenge on his now-teenaged antagonists, determined to kill them all in the clowniest of ways. It’s up to sixteen-year-old protagonist Tommy to put an end to the infernal funnyman once and for all and stop his lethal shenanigans.

Full disclosure: I’m madly in love with this film…hopelessly, completely and madly. There’s not one frame I would change, one awful character I would modify, a single catch-phrase I would delete. I think that the backstory involving the shadowy clown cabal is fascinating, fully believe that the death set-pieces easily equal the best of the Nightmare on Elm Street series (the ice cream pieta is just perfect) and consider Ross Noble’s Stitches to be one of the very best horror villains ever. The film is funny and scary, tense and silly. As far as I’m concerned, there are really only two evil clown films that ever need to be bothered with: Jon Watt’s Clown and Conor McMahon’s Stitches.

Beep, beep, Pennywise.

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The Windmill (2016)

A bus full of tourists break down during a tour of Dutch windmills and wind up at the stomping grounds of a Satanic medieval miller who ground people’s bones to make his bread. Literally. As luck would have it, the miller isn’t totally dead (these things happen) and he proceeds to cut a mighty swath through our collected stereotypes with a mighty scythe. The survivors must band together and find some way to send this particular demon straight back to Hell before they all get turned into meat scraps. Amsterdamned, indeed!

I first saw writer/director Nick Jongerius’ The Windmill as part of my effort to see every horror film released in 2016, regardless of content or quality. I didn’t expect much, at the time, but was quickly blown away by not only the film’s overall quality (it looks simply smashing) but also by how fun it ended up being. Simply put, The Windmill is a blast, the kind of old-school horror film that demands you yell at the screen and throw your fist in the air when something truly epic happens. The film isn’t perfect, mind you, but none of its flaws are critical: in pretty much every regard, The Windmill is just about as good as slick, big-screen, gory, pop-horror films get. Add in a pretty memorable villain and you have the recipe for a damned good seasonal treat.

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Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich (2018)

For the latest installment in Charles Band’s long-running franchise (30 years young in 2019), the keys to the kingdom are handed over to a few interesting choices: Swedish Evil Dead devotees Sonny Laguna and Tommy Wiklund direct, while pulp wunderkind S. Craig Zahler handles the writing duties. The results, which concern chaos and carnage at an auction devoted to the lethal puppets, are some of the bloodiest, funniest and most outrageous of the entire series.

Right off the bat, the newest Puppet Master is two things: genuinely funny and zealously determined to offend. Whether via the astoundingly gory effects (the film starts slow but ends closer to Dead Alive territory, gore-wise), the brazenly politically-incorrect humor or focus on taboo situations, this is a film that will absolutely not be for everyone.

Give it a chance, however, and the new Puppet Master reveals itself as more than just a cheap provocateur. The film is not only extremely well-made and ruthlessly effective, but it also has a genuine heart, albeit a smirking, blood-smeared one. In many ways, the film is kindred spirits with the equally raunchy Hobo With a Shotgun: if the content and grue don’t turn you off, the emotion might pull you in. Plus, that opening credit sequence really is one of the best of the whole year.

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Housewife (2018)

A few years back, Turkish filmmaker Can Evrenol blew me away with a disturbing little ditty that was equal parts Reservoir Dogs and Hellraiser: Baskin was a little talky, in the opening stretch, but devolved into nothing short of a nightmare by the time it all went, literally, to Hell. Suffice to say, anticipation was pretty high for the follow-up: is there any way it could possibly be as fucked up as its predecessor?

The answer, it turns out, is a resounding “yes.” For only his second full-length, writer/director Evrenol has created something that feels like a companion piece to Ari Aster’s Hereditary, an austere, psychological nightmare that descends into complete and unmitigated, howling insanity. The less said about this, the better (some of the surprises really do need to wallop you over the head, for maximum impact) but the film manages to take elements of the aforementioned Hereditary, Aronofsky’s Mother, Phantasm, Rosemary’s Baby and H.P. Lovecraft and turn them into something completely unique and impossibly disturbing. Right on the edge between arthouse and grindhouse, I’m willing to wager that you’ll never get Housewife out of your head…for better or worse.

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Terrortory 2 (2018)

Whenever possible, I like to root for the underdog. Case in point: multi-director, indie anthology Terrortory. I screened this a few years ago for my 2016 project and was rather impressed. Despite being a micro-budget indie horror film with a mostly amateur cast, the film had tons of heart and creativity. It was nowhere close to perfect but never less than watchable. At the time, I made a personal vow to keep up with the filmmakers…and then promptly forgot all about ’em. Flash-forward to this year and I finally get to keep my promise as writer/director Kevin Kangas delivers Terrortory 2.

Like the original, the sequel is an anthology film taking place in the mystical Terrortory, a spot of land where a myriad of monsters, ghosts, demons and generally weird things all happen to hang out together. Similar to the first film, the sequel is ultra-low budget and features a cast that ranges from rather blank to decent enough. The stories range from effective to slightly less so (“The Fountain” is appropriately Lovecraftian and well-paced, whereas “The Wendigo” is nothing more than a minute-long setup for a punchline: the other handful of tales fall between these poles), the effects are decent and the original story-line is continued in a logical way. Terrortory 2 may be a far-cry from the best horror films of 2018 but it’s got more passion and heart than many films of its ilk. At this rate, I’m already booking my next trip to the Terrortory, presumably sometime around Halloween 2019.

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Terrified (2018)

A sleepy, suburban neighborhood finds itself under assault from a myriad of paranormal terrors, including creepy voices in the sink, a dead child who won’t stay buried and a terrifying, gangly humanoid with a propensity for hiding under beds and emerging in the wee hours of the night. It’s up to a trio of ghost hunters, along with a local police captain, to get to the bottom of the eerie events before all Hell breaks loose and takes the suburbs with it.

This Argentinian export had ferociously good word-of-mouth at recent genre festivals, making it one of my most anticipated screenings of the year. After watching it, however, I found myself more than a little conflicted. On the one hand, Terrified does feature several instantly memorable setpieces and plenty of creepy moments: the scene involving the dead kid at the kitchen table is just about as good as horror gets, for one thing. On the other hand, the whole film is batshit crazy and makes not one whit of sense. As a champion of plenty of nonsensical films in the past, I must also freely admit that Terrified takes that inch and runs for a country mile.

Imagine a cross between more traditional entries in the Waniverse (think Insidious) and something totally nuts like Obayashi’s Hausu. Terrified has plenty of atmosphere but also plenty of insanely-loud jump scares, making it a constant see-saw between loud, obvious, dumb scares and more subtly, creepy moments. When Demian Rugna’s film works, though, it’s a pretty singular experience and one of the more memorable films of the year.

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That takes care of Week Two. As we approach the big day, stay tuned for recaps on Weeks Three and Four. Stay spooky, boos and ghouls!

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7/14/15: This Little Light of Mine

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cinema, Conor McMahon, couples in peril, couples on vacation, creature feature, film reviews, films, foreign films, From the Dark, Ged Murray, Gerry O'Brien, horror, horror movies, independent film, Irish films, isolation, low-budget films, Michael Lavelle, Monsters, Movies, Niamh Algar, night-vision, peat bog, Pitch Black, set in Ireland, Stephen Cromwell, Stitches, The Descent, weekend in the country, writer-director

Several years ago, a horror film emerged from the ether (so to speak) and gave me a righteous thumping upside my head: the film was Stitches (2012), the filmmaker was an Irish writer/director/editor named Conor McMahon and it became, hands down, one of my favorite films of the entire year. By turns horrifying, hilarious and almost ludicrously splatterific, Stitches was a glorious return to the good old days of the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise and introduced the world to one of the greatest, new horror icons of the 2000s: Stitches, the homicidal, undead clown. Death by ice cream cone? Two scoops, please!

After a few years of silence, McMahon’s newest opus, From the Dark (2014), has been unleashed upon a largely unsuspecting populace. As someone who not only liked but positively loved McMahon’s previous film, I found myself greedily seeking more of the same: after all, horror-comedy is never an easy sub-genre to pull off but the writer-director made it seem so easy-breezy the first time around, who can fault me for pulling an Oliver Twist? Proving he’s anything but a one-trick pony, however, McMahon’s newest film is the furthest thing from his previous one: From the Dark is an ultra-serious, low-budget and very modest production (the entire cast appears to consist of four actors, including the costumed creature) that involves a bickering couple stumbling upon ancient evil in the picturesque Irish countryside. While the film never approaches the sublime heights of Stitches, it handily showcases another side of an extremely exciting new(ish) filmmaker and points the way towards an interesting future.

Sarah (Niamh Algar) and Mark (Stephen Cromwell) are a young couple who set off for a romantic getaway but end up running into the usual raft of horror movie problems: their car gets stuck in the mud, in the middle of nowhere, and Mark is forced to set off and find help, as Sarah waits with the vehicle. Characterization is light but we get a few basics: the couple aren’t married, yet, although Mark’s dim view of the institution of wedlock doesn’t bespeak of a particularly rosy future. They bicker a little, although we can tell there’s a lot of love here. We also get the notion that Sarah is the stronger of the two, both mentally and emotionally: again, never bad qualities to have in a horror movie heroine.

Mark ends up stumbling upon a seemingly deserted farmhouse, although an intriguing opening scene has already set the scene for this, as well: our first image is of a grizzled old farmer digging up some sort of “body” in a peat bog, a body which seems to move of its own volition after the farmer leaves. We witness “something” attack and drag the farmer into a nearby pond, which makes Mark’s discovery of him standing in the dark farmhouse, zombie-like, somewhat disconcerting. After bringing Sarah back to the farmhouse, in order to help the seemingly wounded farmer, he suddenly turns on the couple, attacking viciously.

To make matters worse, the “thing” that the farmer initially dug up is roaming around the countryside, looking like a rather terrifying combination of the troglodytes in The Descent (2005), James Sizemore’s creations in The Demon’s Rook (2013) and Max Schreck’s take on Nosferatu. It’s big, monstrous, vaguely humanoid and seems to be very hungry (or angry…it’s a little hard to tell). There is a bright spot, however (quite literally): the creature can’t stand light, similar to the monsters in David Twohy’s under-rated Pitch Black (2000). Thus, Sarah and Mark retreat to the “safety” of the farmhouse and make a desperate stand, utilizing flashlights, lamps, candelabrum, makeshift torches and anything else they can get their hands on. If they can only make it to the morning, perhaps the healing, warm rays of the sun will wash away the evil. It’s going to be a long, dark night, however…a very long one, indeed.

Were I not such a huge fan of McMahon’s previous film, From the Dark would, most likely, have hit me a lot harder than it did: as it stands, however, I can’t help but feel a tad disappointed, even though there’s nothing particularly wrong with the finished product. It is a bit familiar, true: if I’ve seen one recent indie horror about a couple stranded out in the wilderness, I’ve probably seen at least five (to be fair, maybe four). It’s not like McMahon and crew drop the ball on this facet of the film: despite the familiarity, Algar and Cromwell are a likable enough pair and everything moves forward at a fairly fast clip. The cinematography, courtesy of Michael Lavelle, is plenty evocative and atmospheric, even if the occasional camera shake feels woefully out-of-place. The creature looks great from farther away and pretty good from up close (the closer we get, the more it looks like one of the aforementioned Descent critters) and there’s a really intuitive use of light and shadow to help build suspense and tension, both of which also tie into the basic mechanics of the film.

Pretty much everything is in place, yet From the Dark still feels a touch under-cooked, just a shade less developed than it needs to be. For one thing, there’s absolutely no mythos attached to the monster whatsoever: while I found the recent Horsehead (2014) to be cagier than necessary with its titular creature, From the Dark vaults straight past “mysterious” right into “unnecessarily vague.” The creature acts and looks sort of vampiric (the Nosferatu nod, being buried with a stake in its chest), infects people like a zombie, has night-vision (hence the light resistance, I’m assuming), has human-like hands and feet and, at times, seems to be able to fly around (or, at the least, run really quickly and silently). I definitely didn’t need an awkward exposition scene where an old townie holds a flashlight under his chin and tells us a ghost story but I also needed more than what we’re given. As it stands, we don’t even get the vague insinuations of age-old mutations hinted at in The Descent: we pretty much get a monster, which chases our protagonists around for a while.

This sense of vagueness also points towards another major difference between From the Dark and its predecessor: From the Dark is a markedly less clever, inventive film than Stitches. While this might have a little to do with the differences in tone (Stitches, after all, was an extremely dark comedy featuring a motor-mouthed comic in the lead sociopath role), some of the cleverest, most outrageous aspects of Stitches were the incredibly inventive death setpieces, not the hilarious dialogue. In these moments, Stitches was not only one of the smartest, wackiest modern films, it was one of the smartest to come down the pike since the glory days of the ’80s.

As compared to Stitches, From the Dark is as bare-bones, meat-and-potatoes as it gets. The only setpiece in the film that really stands out (aside from the beautifully Gothic final confrontation) is the one where Sarah maneuvers from the upstairs of the farmhouse to the ground floor, moving a lamp, as necessary, to provide meager protection from the rampaging creature. It’s a gloriously tense scene, exquisitely blocked and genuinely thrilling: too bad that so many other scenes devolve into your basic “run and get chased” formula. Stitches was a film where you never had any sense of what’s coming next: from clown sex to death by ice cream scooper, McMahon seemed to pull twists and outrage seemingly out of thin air. Here, McMahon seems to be following a pre-established recipe, giving us all of the required beats and moments for this type of thing but with a decided lack of “seasoning”: even the creature’s aversion to light hearkens back to Pitch Black, which managed to make much better use of that particular “gimmick.”

Despite my disappointment, however, I still enjoyed From the Dark. While Stephen Cromwell’s Mark got a little tedious and whiny by the film’s conclusion, Niamh Algar’s Sarah was always a sturdy protagonist and a more than suitable “final girl” to move the proceedings into their logical conclusion. In fact, I was so impressed with her organic progression from “scared” to “ass-kicking” that I’m going to make a point to follow her more in the future: I’m hoping that more filmmakers take McMahon’s lead and start making Algar the focus of their fright flicks.

I also really liked the film’s look and atmosphere, for the most part, and totally dug the idea of the monster, even if the actual execution was a little too vague and anonymous for my taste: I found myself thinking about it for some time after, trying to fill in the missing pieces. This, of course, is pretty high praise for any film, least of all a low-budget horror film: if I find myself thinking about any of it afterwards, that’s always a big plus, in my book.

There’s no doubt that Conor McMahon is one seriously talented dude: irregardless of its numerous issues, From the Dark is still vastly superior to many similar films. It’s also great to see that he’s not a one-trick-pony: anyone who can create something as giddy and uproarious as Stitches, yet follow it up with something as serious and glum as From the Dark seems poised to avoid pigeon-holing at all costs. At the end of the day, however, I’m nothing if not a greedy bastard: for that reason, I’m gonna be holding out for another Stitches. Serious or funny…flip a coin. As long as McMahon’s next film displays the same delirious level of invention and imagination as his killer clown opus, I’ll be that proverbial kid in that proverbial candy store.

 

My 16 Favorite Films of 2013

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American Mary, Antiviral, Best of 2013, cinema, Computer Chess, films, Grabbers, horror films, John Dies at the End, Jug Face, Magic Magic, Maniac, Movies, Only God Forgives, Resolution, Side Effects, Sightseers, Stitches, The Conjuring, V/H/S 2, Wrong, year-end lists

I had posted my Best of the Year list on Facebook before starting the blog. Since I figured that at least a few new viewers might be interested in what blew me away last year, I’ve decided to re-post it here, with one addition. My 15 Best is now a 16 Best. C’est la vie. Now then, in no particular order, here they are:

Jug Face – Quiet, character-driven and tragic, Jug Face is my favorite kind of horror film. The script was quite good, the performances of Lauren Ashley Carter as the troubled lead and genre vet Larry Fessenden as her stern father are nuanced and outstanding and the backwoods setting managed to seem booth authentic and eerily dreamlike. Although there are elements of a creature feature, this is much more about family and duty.

The Conjuring – Decidedly old-fashioned and proud of it, Saw creator James Wan’s third foray into low gore, atmospheric horror is a home run. The performances can seem a tad earnest at times and I still don’t care for that (literal) jump scare but these are minor quibbles. When Wan is content to let the chills unfold at their own glacial pace, it can feel like a steamroller is crushing your chest.

Computer Chess – Very few films are genuinely weird: Computer Chess is genuinely weird. At times baffling, often like watching paint dry into Dali-esque nonsense, occasionally terrifying and always brilliant, this film is truly in a league of its own. This is truly outsider art that feels like Jarmusch filtered through Korine. Like the saying goes, if this is the kinda stuff you like, you’re really gonna like this stuff.

Only God Forgives – For me, Nicholas Winding Refn is the modern Kubrick. I’ve never seen one of his films that I haven’t loved, despite their vast differences, and Only God Forgives was no exception.  For me, everything about the film from the visuals and score to the acting and themes did exactly what it was supposed to do. Walking out of the theatre after seeing this the first time was like waking from one dream into another.

 

Resolution – Resolution is a film about the evils of drug addiction. It’s also about: the power of friendship; demons; book-writing squirrels; the influence of story-telling on reality; multi-dimensional time-travel; the joy of creation; creepy backwoods areas; Indian burial grounds; the nature of story; friends vs family…and on and on. I loved every single minute of this film and restarted it as soon as it was over. Absolutely genius.

Maniac – As a rule, I dislike remakes. Franck Khalfoun’s remake of Maniac, however, is a huge exception to this rule. In fact, I can confidently say that the remake is superior to the original in every way save one: I really miss those gritty, sleazy early-‘80s Times Square visuals. Other than that, the new Maniac is impossibly tense, outrageously gory (certainly one of the goriest films I’ve ever seen) and features an outstanding performance by some kid named Elijah Wood: someone should make that guy a star.

 

V/H/S 2 – Anthology films, by their nature, are hit or miss. The first V/H/S was especially emblematic of this, although there were frequent bursts of insanity to move things along. Luckily, the follow-up is much more meat than gristle. In fact, the penultimate tale, Safe Haven, may just be 20 minutes of the finest, most extreme (non-underground) minutes ever committed to tape. Thoroughly memorable.

Grabbers – In films, concept is king and this one rules the roost: hungry, tentacled evil arrives from space and proceeds to chow down on any humanoid that isn’t drunk. That’s right: these particular aliens are allergic to alcohol. They’ve also managed to land in a hard-scrabble Irish fishing village…bad luck, Kang and Kodos! Hilarious, heartfelt and utterly awesome, I fell completely in love with this after the first viewing. A neo-classic.

American Mary – I applaud fearlessness in film and, nowadays, I don’t think that any filmmakers are as hard to scare as the Soska sisters. Their newest film, American Mary, is a flawless synthesis of Lynch’s kink, Cronenberg’s ick and Scorcese’s rags-to-riches-to-shit character arcs. When I wasn’t staring in awe at the visuals or gagging at the graphic surgical scenes, I was wishing the film would never end.

John Dies at the End – Yeah, it’s not a perfect adaptation of the book but guess what? It’s a damn fine film and, most importantly, a damn fine new Coscarelli film. In my mind, this film’s whups Bubba Ho-tep up one side and down the other. Funny, imaginative, startling…sometimes all three at once (the meat man will be forever etched in my mind), this was some of the most fun I had watching a film all year.

Magic Magic – Michael Cera as a super-creepy, ugly-sweater-bedecked perv? Sign me up! Magic Magic is a rare bird: it’s not really a horror film, yet features some truly horrific things. It’s not really a thriller but features an atmosphere so tense and unpleasant  that the air practically crackles. If anything, Magic Magic is the modern Repulsion: a near-perfect examination of one young woman’s terrifying spiral into insanity.

Antiviral – Like father, like son: Brandon Cronenberg, son of David, turns in one of the freshest, most disturbing and oddest sci-fi/body-horror hybrids in recent memory with his feature debut. Antiviral is a timely examination of our society’s obsession (sickness?) with celebrity and fame. Equal parts Blade Runner-lite and Videodrome, Antiviral is sterile, off-putting, strange, rather gross and kind of brilliant…just like good ol’ dad.

 

Side Effects – If this really is one of Soderbergh’s last films, he’s going out on top. Tightly plotted, exquisitely paced, completely unpredictable and stacked with quality performances from top actors, Side Effects is a sleeper that shoulda been a contenda. Compare this to most other thrillers of the year and it becomes apparent why Soderbergh is in his own class.

Wrong – Once, there was a little French film called Rubber about a car tire that gained sentient intelligence and became a serial killer, using its powers of telekinesis to make various heads explode. Wrong is the follow-up to that film, about a sad-sack office drone that loses his little dog and finds his life up-ended. If Rubber was strange, Wrong is one of the most gleefully batshit films ever made. Seriously.

Stitches – After just watching this last night, there was absolutely no way I could leave this twisted, nutso, wonderful little film off my best-of list. A clown comes back from the grave, thanks to an evil clown ceremony, to take revenge on the bratty kids who accidentally killed him six years earlier. The comedy is razor-sharp, the killer clown is completely awesome, the kills are radically inventive and the whole thing has more energy than a power plant.

Sightseers – Over the course of three exceptional films (Down Terrace, Kill List, Sightseers) and one short (in The ABCs of Death), Ben Wheatley has quickly became one of my favorite modern directors, next to Nicholas Winding Refn. Sightseers is the culmination of his power, although a new film drops next year, so there may be competition. This tragically hilarious, pitch-black examination of a vacation gone horribly wrong is impossible to shake once it’s over. The ending, in particular, is devastating.

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There were several films from last year that I still haven’t seen (The Wolf of Wall Street, You’re Next, Gravity, Upstream Color, 12 Years a Slave, Jim Mickel’s remake of We Are What We Are) and I’m sure that any of those might have wormed their way into this list if I had.

Honorable mentions go to the Evil Dead remake, The ABCs of Death and Europa Report. I liked all of these more than many films last year but not quite enough to give them an official home of the list.

1/2/14: Die Laughing

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bratty kids, Conor McMahon, horror, horror films, Irish films, killer clowns, Nightmare on Elm St., Ross Noble, Shakes the Clown, Stitches, UK films, villain

The first part of today’s installment will feature half of last night’s double-header: Stitches. Since I’ve got quite a few words to say about Stitches, we’ll handle A Lonely Place to Die in another post. On to the show!

Without a shadow of a doubt, Stitches is the single best Nightmare on Elm St. film since Part 3: The Dream Warriors. This may, of course, seem a little odd, since Stitches is clearly not related in any way, shape or form to Wes Craven’s seminal franchise. Upon closer examination, however, there are a few more similarities.

I’ve always loved the NOES series: it’s probably my favorite horror series (the Halloween franchise is way too hit/miss and I’ve always preferred Freddy to Jason) but I’ll be the first to admit its faults. After debuting with a serious effort, the series gradually became campier, with more of an emphasis on pop culture references (“You forgot the Power Glove!” being a chief offender), zany deaths and Freddy’s increasingly Henny Youngman-esque one-liners. The transition to camp was pretty much solidified by Part 5, with Part 6 being so over-the-top that it even featured Alice Cooper and Roseanne Barr. For a very short time, however, the series managed to get the tone absolutely perfect, with The Dream Warriors being (in my mind) the quintessential NOES film.

What made Part 3 work so well? In short, the synthesis between the scares and laughs was pitch-perfect. Freddy drops wisecracks but he’s still a seriously scary dude by this point. He hasn’t assumed the mantle of stand-up comedian yet and is very much a smug, sarcastic, nasty bastard (literally). The group of kids involved may still be ’80s cliches but they’re vibrant ones, clearly individuals and easy to like. The kills are also some of the most inventive in the series (the human marionette will go down as my favorite moment in the entire series, closely followed by the Freddy snake) and the effects work is astounding, especially considering the late ’80s glut of big effects bonanzas. In my mind, although the franchise remained entertaining, it never topped the third entry (the 4th is pretty good, to be honest, and I always enjoy the 5th, camp be damned).

Stitches, then, becomes the best NOES film since Part 3 by taking all the best elements of that film and running with them. The film begins with a tone that reminds one of the crude blue-collar humor of Edgar Wright before swinging easily into something that could best be described as a UK version of Scream with a greater emphasis on the interpersonal dynamics. The kids in Stitches are cliches, of course, but they’re not lazy ones. Each character takes their prescribed quirks and tics and incorporates them into something that actually feels like a real teenager. Shocking! You’re not supposed to like most of these kids (in fact, aside from the hero, most of them are complete assholes) but they feel so real that you can’t help but feel something when they die. And die they do.

You see, where Stitches really assumes the NOES crown is where it counts: the bad guy. A horror franchise is, literally, only as strong as its chief antagonist. Make them memorable enough (Freddy, Jason, Michael, Chucky) and they enter the cultural vernacular, becoming as much a part of the pop landscape as any celebrity. Make them too generic (any of at least a thousand slashers in the ’80s-’90s) and they sink beneath the masses of similar product. Stitches, the killer clown, is probably the best modern horror antagonist since Freddy was created.

As portrayed by Ross Noble, Stitches is spiritual kin to Bobcat’s repugnant Shakes the Clown. Hard drinking, as unhygienic as possible and obnoxious to the core (in response to a mother’s statement that he’s late to her child’s birthday party, Stitches replies, “And you’re fooking ugly. Just kidding.” before honking his lapel flower at her), he’s probably the last person you would want around your kids.

But these kids, man…these kids. The party is full of brats, a prank is pulled, Stitches accidentally ends up with a butcher knife in his head and the birthday boy is scarred for life. But, as a bizarre clown elder tells the hero (in one of the films coolest, weirdest sequences, akin to something by either Jodorowski or de la Iglesia), any clown that doesn’t finish a birthday party can never rest. And a joke is never as funny the second time around.

Stitches returns from the grave, six years later, to exact revenge against the now teenage brats. At this point, the film pulls its most glorious hat-trick of all. When Stitches returns, he’s not quite the scuzzy drunkard from the beginning. Noble has modulated his performance, slowed Stitches down a bit and, in the process, creates a classic performance. His line delivery recalls an even droller, drier Freddy Krueger and, to be honest, I could have easily done with more of him. The balance between chills and laughs is perfect, especially with the killer clown’s look being akin to King Buzzo in facepaint.

And those kills. My, oh my…those kills. Imagine a live-action version of an Itchy and Scratchy Show episode. I was originally going to use Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner as an example but, to be honest, those really don’t even come close to this film. Suffice to say that the kills in Stitches are absolutely brilliant, perhaps the best looking gore effects since the original Hatchet and the most ambitious, energetic set-pieces since the glory days of Dario Argento. All of the deaths involve an ironic clown angle (of course) but move in such genuinely fresh and daring directions that it’s exhilarating to watch. I will say that, even almost 30 years into my horror film viewing, there was some pretty shocking violence here. Played for laughs, perhaps, but way past the vast majority of mainstream horror offerings.

Since saying too much about any of them can spoil some very big thrills, I’ll keep rather mum on the specifics but I will say that there was one particular scene that set a bar so high that most other films can’t even see it. The scene involves an ice-cream scoop, a can opener and the cheestastic anthem “(I Just) Died in Your Arms Tonight,” ending with Stitches holding his victim in approximation of the Pieta, complete with a sadly wistful look on his grease-painted face. If you’re the kind of horror fan that can name every kill in Jason X, the kills in Stitches will probably take top honors on your list.

But are inventive kills really what make a horror film? Of course not. However, inventive kills, a great villain, exciting set-pieces, intelligent humor, astounding practical effects, good acting, a rich and deep backstory (all of the stuff about the clown council and the creepy clown crypt is so damn good that I really wish there was more) and a complete and overriding sense of fun are certainly what make a great horror film. Even better, the film ends with a fantastic set-up for a sequel (the tag is actually so clever that I hope it buries that stupid “one last jump scare before the credits roll” bullshit forever), one that I hope comes to more fruition than Buckaroo Banzai vs The World Crime League.

In short, Stitches is not only a great horror film but it’s a great film, period. It may be campy but it’s never stupid: this was a film made by people who obviously love films and are passionate about them. This passion comes through loud and clear, providing what was, for me, the most fun horror film I’ve seen in years. Had I seen this earlier, Stitches would have easily made my Best of 2013 list. To be honest, maybe that list already needs some revision.