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.

 

5/25/15: Zom-Beavers Wander By the Lake

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Al Kaplan, Bill Burr, Brent Briscoe, cabins, cheating boyfriends, cinema, Code Monkeys, Cortney Palm, dark comedies, dark humor, directorial debut, Ed Marx, electronic score, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, girls only weekend, goofy, gory films, horror, horror-comedies, Hutch Dano, isolation, Jake Weary, John Mayer, Jon Kaplan, Jonathan Hall, Jordan Rubin, Lexi Atkins, Movies, multiple writers, Peter Gilroy, Phyllis Katz, practical effects, Rachel Melvin, Rex Linn, Robert R. Shafer, silly films, sorority sisters, toxic waste spill, Troma films, writer-director, Zombeavers, zombie films, zombies

There’s a point in Jordan Rubin’s ridiculously fun Zombeavers (2014) where our hapless heroes need to execute one of those standard “shoring up the defenses” scenes that’s as much a fixture of siege films as the actual siege itself. Working together, the group goes through all the familiar motions: moving dressers against doors, nailing boards across windows, frantically working to keep what’s outside from coming inside their small, isolated cabin. Despite their best efforts, however, it seems to be a losing battle, the gist of which isn’t lost on one of the exasperated survivors: “You do realize that the whole point of a beaver is it chops fucking wood, right?”

It’s an astute observation but, more importantly, it’s a damn good line and pretty much par for the course in a debut feature that’s always more intelligent than it seems, never quite as crass as it means to be and an easy step above similarly goofy horror-comedy fare. Writer-director Rubin comes from a long background as a writer on TV comedies (most notably the crude but effective Crank Yankers and several late night shows, including Craig Kilborn and Carson Daly) and his script (co-written with Al and Jon Kaplan, who also handled the fabulous score, just as they did with the criminally under-rated Code Monkeys) is consistently smart, if constantly silly. The biggest coup? Rubin and company manage to take a fairly dumb concept (zombified beavers) and inject just enough genuine tension and action to keep the whole thing from floating away into the ether. Zombeavers may be the class cut-up but it sure as hell ain’t the class dunce.

Kicking off with a fantastic gag involving a heavily disguised John Mayer and comedian Bill Burr as less than attentive truck drivers, we immediately get the nuts and bolts of the tale: a mysterious barrel falls off the truck, proceeds down a river and winds up at a beaver dam where it’s inspected by a couple of cute beaver puppets. If you grew up in the ’80s, you probably know what mysterious barrels that fall into rivers do and, by Jove, that’s just what happens here: exit the cute, friendly little beavers…enter…the zombeavers!

Our cannon fodder, in this case, consists of a trio of sorority sisters, Mary (Rachel Melvin), Zoe (Cortney Palm) and Jenn (Lexi Atkins), who’ve headed into the woods for a “girls only” weekend. Jenn has just seen a photo of her boyfriend, Sam (Hutch Dano, grandson of Royal), canoodling with a strange girl (or, at least, the back of her head) and Mary and Zoe want to help take her mind off her misery. Or, to be more accurate, Mary does: for her part, Zoe is the kind of amazingly snarky, sarcastic and just plain shitty character who can either make or break a film and she’s a complete blast.

While they settle in, the girls meet a local hunter, Smyth (Rex Linn), who flips the tired, old “leering redneck” cliché on its head by admonishing the young ladies’ skimpy bathing suits and “weird tattoos” rather than wolf-whistling. They also find the beaver dam from the beginning, although it’s now covered in neon-green “beaver piss,” so they keep their distance. As the “friends” play Truth or Dare, a pounding at the door begins as a fright but culminates in that other, great slasher film cliché: the crashing of the girls’ night out by their loutish boyfriends. Seems that ultra horny Zoe can’t go a weekend without screwing her equally horny boyfriend, Buck (Peter Gilroy), so she secretly invited him, along with Mary’s boyfriend, Tommy (Jake Weary) and good, old, cheatin’ Sam.

With our crew assembled, it’s only a matter of time before the zombeavers rear their vicious little heads and, before they know it, our young lovers are knee-deep in ravenous, dead-eyed little dam-builders. When the group is forced to split-up, it seems that tragedy is looming ever nearer over the horizon. As they must deal with not only the very real outside threat but their own internal struggles, a new wrinkle emerges: this is a zombie film, after all, and we all know why it’s a good idea to keep those fellas at arm’s length. Will our plucky heroes be able to pull together and kick beaver ass or have they just been dammed?

On paper, Zombeavers is a thoroughly ridiculous, silly concept, akin to something like Sharknado (2013) or FDR: American Badass (2012): after all, this is a film about zombified beavers…gravitas might seem slightly out-of-place, here. Thanks to a pretty great script, however (it’s probably one of the most quotable newer films I’ve seen), Zombeavers functions as more of a high-concept parody/homage than a lunk-headed bit of SyFy fluff. While it’s not in the same vaunted company as the stellar Tucker & Dale vs Evil (2010), Zombeavers is pretty equitable to Mike Mendez’s fun Big Ass Spider! (2013) in that it mixes fun, dumb gags with more clever, subtle marginalia. One of my favorite bits in Zombeavers is a throwaway gag that features a teenage fisherman wearing a “#1 Dad” ball cap: it works on a number of levels but, most importantly, it’s the kind of absurd detail that makes the film’s world feel so much more complete than it could have, something akin to the immersive worlds of Troma films.

Rubin and company throw a lot of schtick at the screen (particularly once we get to the last act “twist” that introduces a whole other, outrageous element to the proceedings) but most of it actually sticks, unlike something like the obnoxious, tone-deaf Sharknado. Part of this has to do with all of the aforementioned nifty little details but the whole thing would collapse if there wasn’t an incredibly game cast propping it up. Luckily, Zombeavers is filled with actors who perfectly understand the razor-thin line between “campy” and “stupid” and manage to (mostly) walk it with ease.

While the central trio of Melvin, Palm and Atkins are set-up as rather feather-headed (particularly Melvin’s Mary), they have tremendous chemistry together: their scenes have such a quick, snappy pace to them that they handily recall films like Mean Girls (2004) or, to a lesser extent, Heathers (1988). While Melvin’s exquisite comedic timing and Atkins’ slightly ethereal bearing fit like a glove, the real standout is Palm’s Zoe. Time after time, Palm manages to swipe the film right from under the others, whether it’s the bit where she gleefully doffs her bikini top only to cover herself up when a bear looks at her or any of her perfectly delivered bon mots (her deadpan rejoinder of “Maybe you should try going down on me more often,” to Buck’s “I’ve never seen a real beaver before” is so perfectly delivered that it hurts).

As befits their characters, the guys are pitched as pretty unrepentant, obnoxious horn-dogs but it works, for the most part, although Dano never seems to connect with his character in any meaningful way: his delivery always seems awkward and slightly off. Although Weary’s Tommy doesn’t get as much to do, Gilroy’s Buck is another highlight, just like his equally churlish girlfriend. While Gilroy’s delivery doesn’t always work (there are some definitively odd things that he does, beat-wise), he almost hits an Andy Kaufman-lite vibe when it does. His “my dick is asleep” bit starts out irritating but becomes oddly amusing (and weirdly charming) but moments like his bizarrely energetic sex scene (screaming “You’re way too hot for me!” as he enthusiastically humps away) or any of his great throwaway lines (“Who the fuck is crying on vacation day?!”…”I’ll see you in the bone zone!”) are all but essential to the film’s overall vibe.

And back to that vibe: one of the most notable things about Zombeavers is that, despite the assumed crudity of the concept and execution, the film is anything but a collection of stupid “beaver” jokes and frat boy humor. If anything, Rubin’s script constantly pushes against those stereotypes, walking a fine line between embracing the clichés and setting them on fire. This isn’t to say that Zombeavers is wholesome family fare (penis-chomping, eye-gouging and Zoe’s boobs abound): it is to say, however, that Rubin and crew are smart and savvy enough to know that raunchy humor doesn’t have to be braindead…there’s nothing in this film that comes close to approximating the inanity of the aforementioned SyFy tripe, no matter how hard they try.

As should be plainly obvious, I was quite taken with Zombeavers: as a directorial debut, it’s even more impressive. While not everything worked, the elements that really worked tended to soar: the last fifteen minutes of the film are so damned perfect that I, literally, cheered. Since the film ends with a direct, clever set-up for a sequel (there are other things in the woods besides beavers, after all), I’m hoping that Rubin can capitalize on what worked here and come roaring out of the gate on the next one. After all: any guy that can see the inherent, soul-shattering evil of those flat-tailed, buck-toothed bastards…well, he’s pretty alright in my book.