In the Company of Vampires

Allow me to make something very, very clear: I would never intentionally sit down to watch a movie written and directed by Neil LaBute. In fact, I had actually removed House of Darkness from my Hulu queue once I realized it was a product of one of my least favorite woman-hating trolls. 

But then weeks passed, it was early, and I quickly said, "this looks like a quick horror movie with a good poster," pressing play fully forgetting the entire reason it wasn't on my list.

So. Here we are. 

Quick Plot: Hap (scream king Justin Long) drives Mina (Kate Bosworth) home to her sprawling gothic castle to end their first date. He's a city boy who feels unsafe in the country, while she's an extremely confident heiress smoothly calling him out on his various bullshit. It's Justin Long: of course he's playing a smarmy bro.

They flirt, or rather, Hap thinks he's flirting by yammering away with the same effective ickiness Long used in Barbarian. Mina's sister Lucy (GET IT?) shows up to triple the date, giving Hap all sorts of typically gross ideas. He drinks whiskey, they drink...wine, and at the 80 minute mark, we get to hear a Neil LaBute male character call women cunts. Order has been restored. 

I try to approach every film with an open mind, but when an artist has spent his entire professional career dedicated to telling his audience that women are evil (and doing so with little skill), I don't know that I owe this one a break. 

I'll say this for House of Darkness: it's short. 

It has to be, since it feels like one of the least ambitious films I've ever seen. LaBute obviously comes from a stage background, so it's not terribly surprising that the script reads more play than movie, and the actual staging offers nothing of visual interest. But it's a dull play even at that. 

I had a lot of issues with Barbarian (primarily the third what-exactly-are-we-trying-to-say-here act) but Justin Long's performance was certainly not one of them. He's exceedingly good at playing exceedingly awful, which makes Hap feel like something he filmed on his Barbarian lunch break. Well, in truth, the entire movie feels like it was made over a long weekend.

There's just no real energy, no real sense of danger or even surprise. We have sisters named Mina and Lucy and guess WHAT? They're vampires. Eventually, they kill Hap. Credits roll. 

Now mind you, I have nothing against the concept of dialogue-driven horror. It's just that if that's your style, make it interesting. Make it refreshing. Make it say something, ANYTHING. 

This movie does not agree. 

High Points

Kate Bosworth doesn't get many notes to play here (remember: it's a Neil LaBute script) but she's effectively captivating with the one she gets

Low Points

...if only her character, or any of the four we meet, offered a single surprise

Lessons Learned

If you really feel the need to brag to your friend about the hot rich chick you're about to bang, consider sending a text rather than a regular volume phone call. Also, it's 2023: who makes PHONE CALLS?

Good stories need to begin with "once upon a time"

Trust me: sisters do not ever want to have a threesome with you

Rent/Bury/Buy

Considering where I stand on Neil LaBute's work, I guess I'll concede that House of Darkness isn't nearly as infuriating as I expected it to be. Instead, it's just ... there. And then it's over, and we all will likely never think about it again. 

Unlike some of his other work...

Corn Rigs & Coconuts

Because Neil LaBute is a laughable misogynist who directs films with the spiritual energy of an angry teenage boy lashing out on the internet after being rejected by his crush because he had Cheetos stuck in his teeth, it's safe to say we've experienced the worst possible remake of The Wicker Man that can ever be humanely possibly. So go ahead, Death of Me! Do your worst.

Quick Plot: Americans Christine and Neil wake up with a massive hangover on their last day on a remote island off Thailand's mainland. With barely any memory from the heavy partying the night before, they rush their way to their boat only to discover their passports are missing. 

Looks like they're stuck in tropical paradise, right in time for a massive typhoon. The locals laugh off the weather reports because, as the brochures proudly proclaim, there hasn't been a storm in over 200 years. The couple decides to dig into their phones and cameras to help piece together their missing memories only to discover a haunting video that puts a whole new perspective on their lost evening.

Not surprisingly, Neil and Christine drank HARD, and not just fruity mai tais. Video shows them accepting a uniquely strong drink from a flirty waitress, who followed up the shots with a mysterious necklace for Christine. After, they stumbled home to their airbnb and had aggressive sex, which ended when Neil choked Christine to death and buried her in a shallow grave.

What a great concept, right?! It's haunting and fresh, and yet, for reasons I don't understand, Death of Me decides to stop it in its tracks and proceed to just follow every step of the much better The Wicker Man. Don't worry, it is most certainly aware of what it's doing, so much so that Neil stops to say, "hey, what happened in The Wicker Man?" 

I can't decide if I should commend Death of Me for saluting the elephant in the room or chide it for reminding the audience how much better a movie we could be watching.

Directed by the inconsistent but genre-loving Darren Lynn Bousman, Death of Me is an extremely frustrating, possibly racist, occasionally neat, and ultimately unsatisfying tale. From the beautiful Thai setting and unusual setup to its decent cast and score, It's positively dripping in potential. This film should work!

It does not.

Maggie Q and Luke Hemsworth are adequate, though the screenplay (credited to three writers: Ari Margolis, James Morley III, and David Tish) never offers a single detail about their lives to make them interesting and not, you know, just very attractive. The magical island is described as being small, yet Bousman makes no effort to give us any sense of its geography. Also, it's not necessarily my place to say it, but the more I think about Death of Me's depiction of its villains, the more horrifically problematic it seems. Thailand is known as the land of smiles, and Bousman's camera turns that into something sinister in a way that just doesn't feel right (especially coming from what seems like a fairly American, Caucasian creative team). 

The thrust of Death of Me's story is that human sacrifice staves off tsunamis. The very idea is cringe-worthy, and the film never really seems to know whose side it's ultimately on. It wants us to see the islanders as monsters, but half of that comes from the simple fact that they're speaking a language most of the intended audience doesn't understand. Are we supposed to be afraid of a shot like this?

Yes, The Wicker Man's morals and faith are also muddy, but turning Gaelic culture into folk horror feels a bit less icky in 2021 than making Thai customs into something of terror. It also doesn't help that I watch Death of Me thinking about a much better outsiders-in-Southeast-Asia film (Fabrice Du Weiz's Vinyan) and how that was effectively used:

Made for more money than your average under-the-radar horror film (you can tell that just be seeing this streaming on Netflix as opposed to Amazon Prime), Death of Me is not a waste of time. It has ideas, and it's pretty enough to look at. But if you're the type of genre fan who can't let some very bad choices go, it will frustrate you to no end.

Still: nice beach. 

High Points

I'll never complain about seeing Starry Eyes' Alex Essoe show up in a genre film, and while I wish she had more to do here, she still helps lend a great sense of distrust to the film as the airbnb host with secrets

Low Points

You know how on America's Next Top Model, Tyra Banks would often chide a beautiful young woman who didn't know how to work in front of the camera with the line, "the camera loves you, but you don't love the camera?" Well, that's somewhat true of how this film uses Thailand. Death of Me is infinitely more interesting because of its location, but I don't know that Bousman or his team pull anything exciting out of it

Lessons Learned

The Wicker Man might have had a different ending had Howie had a cell phone, but considering how poor service is anytime a genre movie is set away from a character's home, I'd say we'd have the same movie...only with a few scenes of "no bars!"

A tourist should never be confused for a celebrated guest

Maybe don't shoot the mystery gasoline-flavored alcohol that locals won't drink? JUST A THOUGHT

Rent/Bury/Buy

As with Abattoir, I appreciate Bousman's commitment to putting new spins on horror. And as with Abattoir, I find myself wildly disappointed in the end result. 

Send More Corn Rigs

Sometimes, it's hard to judge the movie you see when the one you wrote in your head is so much more interesting. 

Especially if yours involves musical numbers.

Quick Plot: Vaughn and Marcus are childhood pals looking for one last weekend of wild fun before Vaughn becomes a father. The pair heads out to a remote village to do some hunting, drinking, and in Marcus's case, coke and townie hookup-ing.

Hung over and still reeking of whisky, the men delve into the woods fully armed with not quite legal ammo. Vaughn lines up a clean shot at an adorably unaware deer, only to pull the trigger and discover his bullet landing straight into the head of a wandering little boy. When the boy's father follows close behind, Marcus doesn't hesitate in shooting him to cover their tracks.

The weekend, you can say, is kind of ruined.

Level-headed (maybe?) Marcus insists he and Vaughn bury the bodies and tell no one, assuming the victims to be tourists who won't be missed for some time. Just as they're gearing up to leave town, they discover their tires slashed by some of the angrier villagers who demand payback for Marcus's reckless night of seducing a local lass.

Oh, and by the way: the two dead bodies belong to the leader of the angry, car-destroying pack.

Written and directed by Matt Palmer, Calibre is a small, tense thriller. With all its lead-up to an annual full-village bonfire, I was really hoping it would pull a Kill List and turn into something far weirder with Wicker Man implications. Unfortunately for me, it's just not that kind of movie. 

That's not in any way to say Calibre isn't good. Sometimes, as an overeager audience, we simply get excited about seeing the film we've written in our heads. Director Palmer does such a solid job of building a threatening atmosphere with location and character that it's weirdly disappointing when things are settled in a dark, but not, I don't know, truly primal way.

High Points

I'm a sucker for a cold British countryside, and Palmer uses every layer and muddy boot to strong effect

Low Points

Perhaps it's intentional, but there hit a point early on in the film where I thought to myself, "here we go with yet another tale of bland white professional city men being jerks in the country and paying for it at the hands of oppressed rural villagers." Granted, that in itself is (I believe) part of the very point of Calibre, but it still means dealing with yet another pair of bland white professional city men being jerks

Lessons Learned

Really, I think this can all be summed up with one pretty handy suggestion: maybe don't go hunting with powerful firearms when you're still rather drunk?

Rent/Bury/Buy

Calibre is streaming on Netflix, and it makes for a pleasantly tense little watch when you're in that kind of mood. Yes, it would have been better had the townspeople revealed themselves to be human sacrificers with pleasant singing voices. But isn't that always the case?

Wicker It, Just a Little Bit

Writing about the psuedo sequel to my third favorite film of all time is no easy feat, and hence, the weakling inside me is taking the easy way out: I’m excusing The Wicker Tree as a warm-up for whatever Robin Hardy does next.

See, give the 82 year old filmmaker a break. It’s been quite some time since his he last got behind a camera and everybody needs a good warmup.

The Wicker Tree is just a 90 minute yoga stretch.

Quick Plot: Beth Boothsby (fresh-faced Brittania Nicol) is a successful country singing star who just can’t stop warbling about Jesus. She pauses long enough for a goodbye party at her Baptist church, wherein the good cowboys of Texas send her and her fiancée Steve out to Scotland for a two-year missionary journey to bring Christ to pagans.

I don’t know about you, but I had no idea modern missionaries took European tours. Consider me schooled.

Shockingly enough, those funny voiced redheads don’t really want to hear about dying on the cross. Disheartened by the sound of doors slamming in their pretty faces, Beth and Steve reluctantly accept an invitation to the more rural town of Tresseck, where wealthy power couple Lord Lachlan and Lady Delia Morrison oversee a gaggle of plain folk who worship goddesses and nature.

Tresseck isn’t an easy home for two crazy Texans whose biggest source of pride shines from their promise rings. Beth is able to charm some of the townspeople with her voice, but her preaching never seems to land on open ears. This is especially hard on our country star since she is (gag) a born again virgin, having remade herself into a crucifix wearing angel after hitting it big with her original single, Trailer Trash Love (yes, there’s a music video set in a redneck bar and yes, it’s amazing).

On the other hand, Steve is far more willing to suspend his Christian beliefs for fleshier pleasures. After failing to seduce Beth, he takes a quick liking to local Lolly…mostly because she’s a pretty blond with a cute accent who likes to bathe in the nude and essentially say “Hey, I’d really like it if you came in here and had sex with me.”

And so he does.

See, Cowboy Steve ain’t no Sergeant Howie. Then again, Hardy has also argued that The Wicker Tree is NOT a sequel to his 1974 masterpiece. It’s more a companion piece, a film set in the same TYPE of world that also explores the contrasts and similarities of paganism and Christianity. Or something.

Sigh. It’s never easy to approach a follow-up to one of your all-time favorite films. Sometimes the results are pleasantly odd enough to make it work (Return to Oz) while others just feel like wasteful one-offs unworthy of their names (Starship Troopers 2—though in fairness, Part 3 is surprisingly sly).  Robin Hardy can SAY that The Wicker Tree isn’t a sequel, but why name it “The Wicker Tree” if that’s the case? Perhaps my immediate low point is that the title is positively distracting. Like other Hardy fans who have been following the film’s 4+ year journey through budget cuts and actor injuries, I would have rather sat down to watch a film called Cowboys For Christ and gone from there.

That being said, The Wicker Tree DOES still share some of its predecessor’s charms. The original music isn’t as insanely humful as Paul Giovanni’s catchy Landlord’s Daughter, but some of the songs are quite pretty in a haunting way. Aside from Beth’s Jesus jingles, there’s a striking number sang by a middle aged tavern wench about, as far as I could tell, doing the nasty in the forest.

But the REST of the film…well, it’s there with some great ideas, some truly creepy ones, and ultimately, no solid payoff for its religious buildup. Let’s get spoilery:

Whereas the townspeople of The Wicker Man were making human sacrifices to restore their harvest, the villagers of The Wicker Tree are suffering from a different, equally stirring plague: infertility. As Tresseck is too close to a nuclear power plant, the female population has been unable to conceive for some time. Naturally for a bunch of nature worshipping Europeans, the logical way to fight this is to sacrifice two innocent(ishes) in some extremely brutal fashions, i.e., skin the female and call her The May Queen and tear the cowboy apart to eat with your bare hands. I imagine Hardy is trying to show an extreme case of religious fanaticism to compare to Steve and Beth’s overly fanatical (yet more conventionally accepted) Christianity. But the problem is, what is he actually accomplishing by having the pagans prove to be so brutal?

It’s a tough question and perhaps a second viewing might make more themes clear. The IDEAS are certainly there, but considering how much time is spent on Beth’s conversion from a slutty Britney Spears knockoff to a fully clothed church girl, it’s odd that her character ultimately gets no real choice in or lesson from her awful fate. Perhaps some of you smarter readers who have watched The Wicker Tree can help.

SPOILERS HATH END'TH

High Notes

Not spoiling, but just sayin’: like in The Wicker Man, people die in some fairly horrific manners, all of which are suggested without being deliberately shown. I found it chilling

Yes, Graham McTavish's role was supposed to be played by the god that is Christopher Lee, but I still found his self-proclaimed Monty Burnsish millionaire to be an effective villain. Similarly, Nicol captures the perfect essence of an overly devout without much brains Christian princess

Low Notes

Hey, I’m not going to argue with the hypocrisy of Bible interpretation, but it just feels like the script could have pointed this out in a more organic show-don’t-tell way. Instead, we have out pagan characters describing Christian beliefs about the rapture. The execution felt lazy

Lessons Learned

Contrary to common Englishman belief, The Clitoris is NOT an island off Greece famous for its ouzo

Never ask a Christian cowboy to play poker. He’ll probably just spend hours going through each card and explaining what it has to do with Jesus and really, you’ve got money to win already. Eff that dude

Cowboys keep their hats on

The Winning Line

“Where is my bowl of eyes?”

Because, come on: it’s one thing to HAVE a bowl of eyes. It’s a far greater thing to misplace it

Rent/Bury/Buy

It’s hard to know how to recommend The Wicker Tree. If you’re a diehard fan of The Wicker Man (like me), then you kind of HAVE to see where Hardy went next, even if the results are just nowhere nearly as satisfying as you might hope. That being said, there is some beautiful landscaping, weirdly paced horrors, and haunting original songs that make even an ultimately lackluster film still something more special than your average straight-to-DVD genre picture. So put it on your queue for an eventual watch. It won’t change your belief in cinema or fertility goddesses, but it will be something unique.

Friday Fixins

Bleh. January.

Not that one (though Betty Draper does make me use words that would make Dexter's sister-wife blush).


I'm talking this month, this cold, dry skinning, icy sidewalked month. It's a sloggish time for weather and work, and can you believe it? We still have to wait TWO WHOLE WEEKS for the inevitably amazing The Roommate. Sigh. We need some form of refreshment and thankfully, I've got a few random bursts of sunshine to shine your way.

First off, it's weekend vacation time with the virgins! In simpler terms, head over to The Blood Sprayer for my post on horror cinema's most complicated good girls (and boy) and while you're there, stick around for some truly spectacular content from an array of talented writers. It's like a Godiva box of chocolates without the hazelnut!

Psst. By the way, I'll give you a kitten if you can successfully prove you ever predicted you'd live to see Queen Amidala French kissing Sheitan.

Also, an exciting announcement from one of my most favoritest blogs out there: Planet of Terror is going pod! Cortez (the Killer) and the mysterious Complaint Department have started a podcast, an exciting burst of audio pleasure you can currently find streaming here. Get to it!


Lastly, this is your friendly reminder to prepare yourself for littleness. We're just 11 days away from The Deadly Doll's House First (Maybe) Annual February of the Vertically Challenged Villains Month du Shorties!  It's a long title for a short month. I'm ironic like that.

On my slate thus far, expect 28 days of posts including, but not limited to the following:


Blood gnomes, black devil dolls from hell, puppet people, puppets, dolls, dangerous worry dolls, ghoulies, klowns, evil fetuses, evil babies possessed by sinful dwarfs, carnivorous tree babies, leprechauns, dummies, sociopathic children, brainwashed backwoods children, murderous African tribal dolls, more dolls, bad seeds, and the incarnation of angry aborted fetuses come to life in the form of homicidal midgets!

Contain your excitement (or wig, in the '90s slang kinda way) and get your posts ready!