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Friday, October 30, 2020

Ghost Stories (2017)

Directors: Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman
Writers: Dyson and Nyman, adapted from their own stage play
Starring: Andy Nyman, Martin Freeman, Paul Whitehouse, and Alex Lawther

My wife and I were planning on sitting down to a viewing of Ghost Stories one evening, when she laid down a huge bombshell on me: she wanted to be terrified; a movie that would scare the daylights out of her. While she's always willing to watch whatever I want, she's not always willing to go that far with it; I was psyched, and—even though I'd heard this one was relatively scary—spent over an hour looking for something that would scare her even more--only to come up with nothing. So after all that wasted time, the night went on as originally planned...

...which ended up being a good thing.

The set-up of Ghost Stories is almost as creepy as the stories themselves: Phillip Goodman is a professor, and a skeptic, who runs a television show called “Psychic Cheats”, in which he publicly outs popular “psychics” (think that John Edward guy from the early 2000s). It's an honest living, I suppose, until he gets a letter from his idol, a man by the name of Charles Cameron. Cameron was the “original” naysayer, debunking claims of the supernatural; his earlier works were the main inspiration for Goodman to enter the same field.

The meeting, however, does not go as planned: the crotchety old man reveals that Goodman's work is “shit”, and that there really are some stories that can't merely be explained away with science or logic. He begs Goodman to investigate three stories of the supernatural that he himself could not disprove; these three stories make up the basis for the anthology.

I don't really understand why anthology movies all of a sudden feel like there needs to be a framing narrative around the whole thing, because that usually ends up being the worst of the stories. Why can't we just go back to the good ol' days, where each story in the anthology was just that, with nothing to link or tie them together? At any rate, that seems to be the current fad, and at least Ghost Stories' framing device is rather unique,while at the same time actually adding tension before any of the tales are spun; after all, if the premiere naysayer can't just discuss these stories away, how terrifying must they be?

Case 1” concerns a former nightwatchman named Tony Matthews, who guards a large, seemingly abandoned building. He worked at that particular place for years, until one day, something seems hellbent on capturing his attention. At first, it's just minor: the lights go out, the generator mysteriously unplugged by someone. But as the night wears on, the events seem to get more and more threatening: there are loud noises heard, interference through his walkie talkie, and something seems to be calling out to him. What could have been so scary that he never went back to that job?

The setting here is perfect, with long shots of him in his watch station that show just how dark—and huge—the building is. And that's actually the best part of Ghost Stories: while the stories themselves aren't anything unique, the way they build up tension out of “normal” movie cliches is pretty impressive. We've seen dark buildings a million times before, but the way the scene is established—along with that framing narrative that hints we're in for something terrifying—really helps to effectively set the mood before anything even happens. Our brains are already programmed to be scared right from the outset; it's almost psychological horror, in a way.

Case 2” follows Simon Rifkind (the great Alex Lawther, from the great Black Mirror episode “Shut Up and Dance”), a teenager who has never been the same ever since seeing a mysterious goat-like creature deep in the woods on his way home from a party one night.

Again, the setting is familiar, and the story is completely threadbare, but the lack of a long set-up and the filmmakers' grasp of what makes things scary really helps keep things interesting. I mean, how many characters in horror movies have been stranded in the woods by a car that suddenly dies? But here, the desolate setting—along with Simon's loneliness—really help to set the mood. It's familiar, but not quite in the same way we're accustomed to, and that's what makes it rather chilling. I will say that it ends on a somewhat humorous note that die-hard horror fans might not appreciate (I'm not entirely sold on it myself), but the build-up to it is creepy, to say the least.

Lastly, there's “Case 3”, who follows a distinguished looking gentleman named Mike Priddle, who takes his wife to the hospital after she experiences spotting late in her pregnancy. He returns home to do some work—and quickly discovers that something seems to be reaching out to him—from the room they set up to be their nursery.

Once again, this one makes good use of the location--a sprawling mansion that's far too big for two people—and that also preys on the fears of parents, to create a story that had my wife burying her face in blankets for most of it. It's yet another creepy tale that might end up being the best in the lot, and that sets up the film's most shocking scene, which caught us both off guard: it elicited a noticeable yelp from my wife, and dropped my jaw nearly to the floor.

But things aren't quite as they appear: all of them tie directly into Professor Goodman himself, something that he learns the hard way...

I'm not sure that I would really categorize Ghost Stories as all that “scary”--there are some effective jump scares, and while the atmosphere is excellent in all three stories, they really didn't cross the line into truly terrifying territory for me. The most effective scary stories should take the viewer out of their comfort zone, catch them off guard, and create an eerie ambiance that just creates a constant, pervasive feeling of dread. The Innocents did that to me, Black Sabbath did that to me, and even more recent fare like Paranormal Activity and Blair Witch project all managed to get my heart rate pumping, and my hands clammy.

This isn't quite on the same level as those classics, but that doesn't mean that it's not effective in its own right: I had a smile on my face for probably half the movie, simply because the movie was so well shot; it might not have truly scared a seasoned veteran of the genre like myself, but it certainly got to my wife (who, to be fair, is naturally scared of supernatural forces), while every sequence has at least one or two creepy scenes that just naturally reinforced why I love the genre so much.

As seems to be a recurring theme with the genre as of late, the strength of the stories are carried by the performances, and the two standouts here are Andy Nyman, as the skeptical professor, and the aforementioned Alex Lawther, as Simon Rifkind. Lawther is no surprise here—he is clearly one of the greatest young actors working today. He not only has that rare ability to cover a wide range of emotions, but can switch between them on a dime—two things we see on full display here.

The bigger shock is Nyman, who adapted this for the screen (along with Jeremy Dyson) from their own stage play, and who also directed the film together. While it might seem straightforward that someone with a theatrical background could easily segue into the world of film, that's not at all the case; they are two distinct disciplines. Just because you're a good TV or film actor doesn't at all mean it will automatically translate to theater, and vice versa. While the stage is probably less forgiving—there are no chances for alternate takes—acting on a film set also comes with its own set of obstacles; for Nyman to so strongly translate his character to the screen is an astonishing accomplishment in its own right.

It's not perfect, but it's hard to imagine Ghost Stories being executed any better than it is here, and that's saying something. Dyson and Nyman have crafted a strong horror film that maintains an impressive level of consistency across all of the tales; even if you aren't scared, will still have you glued to the screen, wondering where all this is headed. The final twist—an overused plot device that can often singlehandedly ruin an entire movie—is rather brilliantly done, with callbacks and clues in each story that virtually require a repeat viewing in order to put all the pieces together.

If you want a solid horror film to get you in the Halloween spirit, or just the perfect film for a cold, dark winter evening, then there's no need to look any farther than this one.

RATING: 8/10

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Thursday, October 29, 2020

Haunt (2019)

Directors: Scott Beck and Bryan Woods
Writers: Beck and Woods
Starring: Katie Stevens, Will Brittain, Lauryn Alisa McClain, and Andrew Lewis Caldwell

Stop me if you've heard this one before: Six people looking for an adventure stumble upon a mysterious haunted house, where they quickly learn that the sinister forces inside are interested in much more than merely scaring the hapless collection of good-looking visitors...

It's an idea that's been done millions of times before, and that will no doubt be done a million times more. But the main frustration with Haunt is that, while it does build up an unnerving atmosphere and has some effectively “icky” kills, it doesn't really aim to be anything more than that. Which is a shame, because underneath its predictability is a truly classic film waiting to be born.

Katie Stevens is Harper, a young woman who is trying to get out of an abusive relationship with her controlling boyfriend. In order to help take her mind off things, she reluctantly agrees to hang out with some friends—and in the process, of course, meets Nathan, an attractive, athletic man who quickly takes a liking to the freshly single lady.

The group head off to find a haunted house, and instead stumble on one when Harper suddenly feels like she is being stalked by her boyfriend. As they sit off to the side of a dark road in their old van, a “Haunted House” sign suddenly lights up, and the group has very little qualms about entering an otherwise unpromoted haunt. From there, the red flags continue to pile up: the bizarre man at the gate who requires no money; the seemingly vicious torture of another soul unlucky enough to wander in; the bloodcurdling screams heard off in the distance; but these are just explained away as completely normal events for a random haunted house off the side of a mostly abandoned road that no one knows about.

I think we all know where this is headed: the creepy masked “characters” in the haunted house are more than they seem, and the characters get picked off one by one in gruesome ways. Can anyone put a stop to the bloodbath? Or will all of them meet their end inside the abandoned building?

The synopsis itself reveals the underlying problem: it's all too familiar. For a film that seems hellbent on throwing up some shocking violence and maintaining a tense feeling of unease—two things it does rather well—there's just too much straightforward, linear storytelling to truly elevate it into the higher echelons of the subgenre. It's pretty obvious from the get-go who's going to survive and who's going to die, and the filmmakers show no real intention of subverting that tired formula. Most of the side characters are still stupid caricatures who do stupid things to put themselves further in harm's way, making the jobs of these murderers way easier than it should be. Even during the meandering finale—which goes on about ten minutes too long—when the audience is no doubt expecting one final, decimating twist to justify the elongated length, we basically just end up with the ending we already had ten minutes prior, with nothing shocking or necessary details added.

And can we stop with the trend of horror movies half-heartedly trying to pull on heartstrings? In this case, we not only have Harper dealing with an abusive boyfriend, but also a backstory involving an abusive father that's never resolved. There's no doubt that horror movies can effectively deal with heartrending issues (see The Orphanage for a perfect example, and to a lesser extent, The Babadook), but it takes complete commitment from the creators for that to work. Here, Harper's troubles feel thrown in more as an afterthought, as a cheap way to give her character more dimensionality, while the lack of resolution is ultimately a slap in the face to the viewer.

That's not to say at all that it's a bad film—in fact, I would definitely say it's still above average for what it is. The acting really carries it, with no one turning in a poor performance, while Katie Stevens absolutely steals the show as Harper. It's certainly not her fault the floundering backstories fail to resonate with the viewer, because she does her part to sell them: she cries, cowers, screams, or acts confident, all to the whims of the script, and with a clear commitment to the material that's sometimes missing behind the scenes. She better watch it though: her 2019 output includes two horror films (this, along with Polaroid), which just might pigeonhole her into the genre; she's more deserving of greater chances than that.

The effects work is also excellent: although limited to quick shots, the film's use of practical effects gives the death scenes much stronger impact than any amount of computer generated imagery could provide. The kills really help to carry the tense mood along, even as the characters seem to get dumber and dumber, setting themselves up for easy—though often predictable, as is par for the course—demises.

In other words, Haunt works when it's doing what the title implies, but falls off the rails in the fleeting moments when it feels like it has more that it wants to say. This is a good movie full of “what ifs” that will leave you pondering just how much better it could have been.

OVERALL: 6/10