DON'T GO IN THE WOODS - Often wheeled out as a textbook example of bad, bad filmmaking, DGITW is charming and jarring in equal measure. Some of the acting seems almost fake-bad. The wild-man killer is pretty random. The editing, pace and photography are subtly skewed and out of kilter in a completely non-intentional manner. The overall rubbishness teeters on the brink of being totally laughable, but then has to vie with unexpectedly moody bits, mostly accompanied by the murky synth soundtrack which loads of people seem to write off but which I think is almost THE defining moment of early eighties horror atmos. Great stuff, er well maybe, maybe not but definitely enjoyable.
SLUGS - I don't know why I always turn to 'Slugs' when I feel I need some kind of trash B-movie fix, because it's certainly not the tastiest morsel out there (see above for a richer feast and below for a vom-bag full of eeeek!). But for the first hour it really does something for me, a weird mix of satisfyingly icky gore and plastic eighties TV movie dynamics (even though it was a theatrical release). The last half hour drags a bit in its standard 'race against time to bomb a sewer' action horror pay-off attempt, but for a while it promises to be something a bit special (ie a bit shit but still likeable).
ENTRAILS OF A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN - The follow up to 'Guts of a Virgin' and features a similar combine of post-Pinku and monster prosthetic. It seems a lot more rapey than it's predecessor and, even if it doesn't boast any wanking with severed limbs, it feels grottier and sleazier. There's a Cronenbergian edge, with some kind of narcotic begetting a pretty impressive hermaphrodite creature who menaces J gangster types with a Gigeresque phallus and a slimy vag.
MORVERN CALLAR - From the novel by Alan Warner. Samantha Morton plays an affectless woman who steals her dead boyfriend's manuscript and basically goes on holiday with her mate. A great film, I feel. There's something about its vaguely druggy, washed out drift that seems really off key and warped without being blatant. This is all somehow summed up by Morton, an unreadable but powerfully looming presence. I don't know why, but I was sort of reminded of David Lynch a few times - maybe just all the references to flickering lights.
THE MUSIC OF CHANCE - Third literary adaption (or maybe second, sorry Shaun) this time from Paul Auster. I really like TMOC, hadn't seen it in ages till I spied it on Lovefilm - it tends to be a bit overlooked these days, but basically it's a Kafkaesque tale of two men who lose a gambling contest and are forced to build a wall as a means of compensating their opponents. That's kind of it - I know it doesn't sound too thrilling, but it's hypnotic and eerie and just really engrossing. Recommended to lovers of lost weird nineties indie who dig James Spader (who's in it).
 |