Showing posts with label horror. Show all posts
Showing posts with label horror. Show all posts

Thursday, 3 April 2014

The Borderlands

There’s a certain snobbishness to found regarding found footage horror movies – unsurprising perhaps, considering the glut of uninspired Blair Witch wannabes that have occupied the market in recent years.  Director Elliot Goldner, however, has proved there are still frights to be had with the genre in his debut film, The Borderlands.

It possibly sounds like the beginning of a very bad joke – an Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman walk into a haunted church – but that’s the premise at work here.  Gordon Kennedy, who British viewers will recognise from his roles in, well, everything really plays Deacon, a world wearied priest who has been sent by the Vatican to investigate a supposed miracle in a small country church.  He’s accompanied by fellow priest and Vatican investigator Mark (Aidan McArdle), and technical expert Gray (Robin Hill) who kits the team out with the headcams that capture their footage.

And for once there is at least a reason for team’s use of headcams – although the reasoning behind their entire base camp being fitted with cameras is perhaps a little muddier.  Still, the in-house cameras capture some distinctly creepy scenes early on in the film, such as the untimely church bells chiming in the dead of night and the agonised screams of a sheep that gets set alight by local teenagers, all of which sets the tone for the rest of the film.

The Borderlands does stick to some familiar horror movies tropes – characters going off alone into dark buildings, crucifixes crashing off walls, unwelcoming local villagers who may as well have burning pitchforks – but for the most part it works well here.  The scene where Deacon runs off to the church on in his own in the middle of the night might tick every cliché in the “Horror By Numbers” guide to film-making, but it does also provide some of the movie’s most scary moments.  And once again, this time round there is a genuine reason for it.  Deacon is a man who has a lot to prove after other investigations of his have had terrible consequences.  As he desperately tries to unravel exactly what is happening in the church you at least understand why he heads off into dark crevices on his own – even if you do still wonder if he’s ever watched a horror movie before.

If anything, what makes The Borderlands work so well compared to other found footage movies of recent years is its very MR James-style Britishness.  There are plenty of beautiful – and vaguely ominous – shots of the English countryside setting the mood, for a start.  And instead of nubile young Americans screaming down a camera, here we’re watching a couple of middle aged British men discussing fantastical paranormal happenings over a couple of pints in the local boozer, which seems to make the film’s events all the more believable.  It’s the central double act of Deacon and Gray that serves The Borderlands so well – a sort of Peep Show meets Paranormal Activity style relationship providing laughs amid the ghost hunting.

Notable mention has to go to Robin Hill as Gray, the agnostic techie who is more amazed and eager to believe in the supernatural goings on he witness than the two priests, particularly Mark, who is keen to find a scientific explanation for everything and not drag the church back into the “dark ages”.

Gordon Kennedy and Aidan McArdle both deliver strong performances too, although I did feel the film suffered a little from casting actors who aren’t exactly strangers to mainstream TV shows.  Surely it’s more believable to think you’re watching the found footage of a doomed investigation if you don’t recognise the men on screen from Sherlock or Mr Selfridge?  That’s a minor complaint though, and is possibly a reflection of me watching too much television as opposed to what a general movie going audience might think.


The Borderlands does somewhat lose its way in the final act, after the arrival of elderly priest Father Calvino (Patrick Godfrey) and the plot goes, for want of a better phrase, completely mad.  However the final scenes, which do owe more than a passing nod to The Blair Witch Project, are still thrillingly claustrophobic and deeply unsettling.

Sunday, 1 December 2013

The Devil Drops In


So, last night the QFT held it's first ever Horror All-Night-a-Thon.  Not just any horror, oh no.  The Devil Drops In was all about the Prince of Darkness, and some of his exploits on screen.  A night spent in a darkened room with a bunch of horror fans watching Satan cut loose might not be everyone's idea of good time.  But I went along for the ride and, by god, I survived.  I survived!

Nine hours of horror and countless cups of free coffee later, my memory of the night is somewhat...hazy?  But in the interests of intrepid journalism, let's attempt to walk through the evening's terror.

The Devil Rides Out

The campiest romp of camp romps.  A Hammer horror starring Christopher Lee (of course) based on the novel of the same name by Dennis Wheatley.  Lee plays the Duc de Richleau who discovers the son of a friend is involved in all things Satanic.  Attempting to rescue Simon from the Devil's clutches, the film takes in not-entirely-high-speed car chases through the English countryside in which nobody actually appears to be driving, and an unintentionally hilarious cast of supporting characters including a cross eyed Duchess and the Devil himself.  Fortunately, Satan (a half man, half goat type being) appears to be easily defeated by some car headlights, so that's the end of that.  The film basically ends with one great big deus ex machina and some God praising - God bless us, everyone!

Invocation of My Demon Brother

Nope.  No idea what was going on here.  Kenneth Anger's short film is full of psychedelic '60s mysticism which therefore means it made no sense whatsoever.
What I can remember - there were some evil cats.  There was a man wearing some fabulous glittery robes.  There was an Albino doing some serious thinking.  There were quite a lot of penises.  There was a bored looking dog.  I understood how the dog felt.
The film also boasted a soundtrack by Mick Jagger.  I say soundtrack - it was basically Jagger hitting the same key on a Moog over and over again until I thought I was in Guantanamo Bay and confessed to some acts of terrorism I had never actually committed.

The Blood on Satan's Claw

Or, Lark Rise to Hellfire.  Some '70s folk-horror that involves a witch with one hell of a Scouse brow wreaking havoc on some simple folk in the countryside.
I think my favourite character in the movie was the chap I christened Stumpy (it was a long night, I can't expected to remember names).  He had some fabulous long hair and a stump for a hand after the Devil - a hairy chap himself - charmed Stumpy into chopping off his digits.  Although the Roger Daltrey-a-like who spent the movie running around in a sleeveless vest and pedal pushers while failing to save anybody's life whatsoever was a close runner up.
For all the witchcraft, the most disturbing scene was probably Frank Spencer's wife having an orgasm.  As I understand it, the film ends with the Honey Monster doing an erotic dance for a fat man with a sword and a fabulous taste in robes and headwear.  I may not understand it very well.

Lucifer Rising

Some more Kenneth Anger occultism.  Apparently, the film takes in a ritual summoning the angel Lucifer.  This ritual seems to involve women shaking their breasts at the sun, men with technicolour dreamcoats and perms staring at soft furnishings and Marianne Faithfull getting upset about some ruined leggings.




Prince of Darkness

John Carpenter's 1987 sci-fi inspired horror in which Satan - or the Anti-God - appears to be an extraterrestrial goo living in a lava lamp.  Featuring double denim, handlebar moustaches and and mullets galore, the film couldn't be more Eighties unless it had a neon sigh flashing throughout saying "I WAS MADE IN THE EIGHTIES, BY THE WAY".
There is also some light racism thrown in for good measure, what with the uptight Asian girl scientist, Jewish mother jokes ("I said RICH doctor!"), and a black man, infected with Satan goo, singing Amazing Grace as he climbs the stairs.  And, hey, it's the Eighties, so there's some Aids metaphors thrown in for good measure as the Anti-God makes his way through the world via the sharing of bodily fluids.
Of course by this point it was very early in the morning, and I confess that the grainy video dream sequence repeated throughout the movie was enjoyably unsettling.  It was all very Nigel Kneale, but to be honest, it just made me want to watch Doctor Who two-parter The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit which covered pretty much the same storyline much better.

The Exorcist

Oh, you've all seen The Exorcist.  Even if you haven't, you know the plot, so there's no need for me to explain it.  Which is just as well, as I'm afraid I didn't quite manage to stay awake throughout the entire thing.
Still, I woke up for the end of the movie, and the end of the horror-a-thon.  And in time for breakfast!  God knows, after watching Linda Blair spit up pea soup, I often feel the need to eat bacon sandwiches and bagels.


And that was that!  We survived the night of terror and wandered off into the morning light, yawning and cowering away from the sun.  And then sleep, for those who had no fear of the Prince of Darkness wandering into our dreams anyway.