[BAKA]

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[23] Hide And Go Shriek
So many slasher movies in the ‘80s had awesome cover art, occasionally misrepresentative, the artwork for Skip Schoolnik’s Hide And Go Shriek is archetypal of the experience to be found. A protagonist cowering under a bed by a barefoot killer’s tattooed feet. The use of lighting in Hide And Go Shriek is really fascinating, shadows are frequently used to obscure key details from both character and viewer. The shadows aid in creating a malleable presence for the killer, from brutishly masculine to maniacally feminine. Set in a furniture store, of course the nubile teens couple up and separate to test out the mattresses, which seals their fate. The acting is generally mixed, the pacing sporadically lulls, far too many people survive, and some of the choices made with regards to the killer may feel outdated and offensive, but otherwise it’s a pretty enjoyable experience.


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[24] Happy Death Day
Happy Death Day is part of a wave of modern slasher cinema with a novel twist, or gimmick depending upon your opinion, that includes the likes of Detention, Tragedy Girls and The Final Girls, among many others. Suffusing the typical slasher formula with a Groundhog Day time-loop, for a generation that largely won’t be familiar with Groundhog Day, which the film knowingly nods to when one character is attempting to relate the protagonist’s situation to the film, only for the protagonist to not even be aware of who Bill Murray is. The time-loop element is a perfect fit for the sub-genre, looping every time the protagonist dies, but still managing to imbue a sense of danger with the underlying physical trauma from her deaths carrying through into the next cycle. The film strides between genius and stupidity, the killer’s motivation is completely redundant, throwaway nonsense that is hopefully part of the joke, and we get a few too many false endings, but the sense of humour is so on point you forgive its faults.


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[25] Night School
Ken Hughes’ Night School has a bit of an identity crisis, its remit is clearly a slasher, but it feels overly influenced by Italian cinema, particularly the giallo, as many slasher movies were influenced by, but also the police procedural elements of the poliziotteschi. Even the killer, clad in black biker gear feels ripped straight out of Andrea Bianchi’s Strip Nude For Your Killer. The murder set pieces feel remarkably evocative of slasher cinema, calling to mind scenes from the likes of Maniac, and The Prowler, the opening in particular sets the tone perfectly, the creaking and spinning of a round-a-bout, the killer waving his knife as the victim helplessly spins. The sound design is incredibly effective, accentuating sound effects at the appropriate moments to ratchet up the intensity, a knife being scraped along a mesh grating, an electronic ambient thrum knowing just when to die down, right before the jump scare. The film works best when it is being a slasher, the police procedural elements are nowhere near as compelling; the scene in the kitchen of the diner is essentially one big tease, the audience tensely awaiting the reveal, none of the other aspects are quite able to hold the viewer as rapt.


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[26] The Intruder
Previously unreleased, the original materials destroyed, from the only print ever to exist, Garagehouse Pictures bring us Chris Robinson’s proto-slasher The Intruder. So obscure even after they had found the print they struggled to identify it, unable to source listings, it wasn’t a case of being presumed lost, but never to have existed. The story behind the film is more interesting than the actual film, a serviceable reworking of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. There’s the occasional flourish of striking cinematography, the kill in the Lighthouse is a kaleidoscopic visual feast, and a scene with one character reading, oblivious to an intruder lurking outside her window, illuminated by flashes of lightning is effectively lensed. Largely it’s run of the mill, a putrid array of duplicitous characters meeting their maker in a pretty mundane fashion, with various hanging plot strands attempting to mislead the viewer. The ending is hilariously random. Despite being rarely above average, I’m pleased that The Intruder does actually exist, and that Garagehouse Pictures persisted to bring it to us it.


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[27] The Hearse
Escaping from a failed marriage resulting in her breakdown, Jane Hardy moves into the house her Aunt left her in her will, much to the dismay of the lawyer in charge of her Aunt’s estate, waspishly played by Joseph Cotten, who claims to have been promised the house. There’s a hokey TV serial-drama feel to The Hearse, which unfortunately undermines many of the set pieces. There’s a superb dream sequence, with Jane being stalked by the scarred chauffer, bursting through a door, culminating in a Church where the mist has permeated the walls, the midnight mass seemingly a collection of occult worshippers. The Hearse itself doesn’t have anywhere near the menace of this sequence, and isn’t ever able to overcome the soapy trappings of a secretive small town’s mistrust of an outsider plot. The repeated narrative, Jane following in the footsteps of her Aunt, the underpinning occult elements, Joseph Cotten providing a touch of class beyond the material, and that dream sequence all make it enjoyable, if inconsequential.


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[28] The Iron Rose
Jean Rollin’s The Iron Rose is hauntingly desolate; aside from the occasional background extra we have just two characters, dubbed simply ‘The Boy’ and ‘The Girl’. A poet and a ballet dancer, respectively, meet at a party and go on a first date to a cemetery, as you do. It cannot be understated how malevolent and disconcerting the atmosphere is, the cinematography aiding in creating something that transcends the screen. The unsettling parade of mourners at the cemetery, someone dressed up like a fancy dress version of Dracula, something you might see a child wearing, the sad Clown, laying the wilted flowers on a grave, all provide an ethereal air, a crossing of realms. The graveyard becomes unending, inescapable, malign forces attempting to make permanent residents of the newly met lovers, just as Rollin’s cinema is inescapable, making a permanent resident of me.


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[29] Suddenly In The Dark
Despite being a fan of contemporary Korean horror, I genuinely can’t think of a single Korean horror film I’ve seen that predates the late-nineties (Ki-hyeong Park’s Whispering Corridors in 1998). Perhaps I’m overlooking something obvious, or I’m just a terrible cinephile, but when Mondo Macabro announced they were putting out Suddenly In The Dark, originally released in 1981, I couldn’t resist. It unfurls in a similar way to the paranoia-laced thrillers from Polanski, a slow unnerving build up with the protagonist questioning everything around her, and her family and friends questioning her sanity, before a finale act cavalcade of explosive hysteria. There feels a meeting between a modernising Korea and the superstitious values of old. The totemic doll, said to possess some form of spirit becomes the object of the protagonist’s madness, unnervingly coming to life. There’s a kaleidoscopic fracturing of the camera, the protagonist’s sanity unhinging with the narrative. The film culminates in a deliriously frenzied denouement.