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by Thomas
M. Sipos, managing editor [October 1, 2017]
[HollywoodInvestigator.com] For the
14th year in a row, the Hollywood Investigator is happy to announce
the winners of its
Tabloid Witch Awards horror film contest. We received 232 entries
this award season, the most competitive season yet. There is no
shame in losing, as many fine films lost.
Every year has its trends.
Zombies and found footage films were prevalent in previous years. This
year, not so much. Supernatural films were very big this year. Plenty
of ghosts. But also many devils, demons, and witches. A surprisingly
large number of witches.
Dario Argento was a big
influence this year. Never before have we seen so many horror films
brightly lit with primary colors. Yes, nondiegetic colored lights
usually enhance a film. But with so many filmmakers using them,
colored lighting didn't help any film stand apart from the crowd.
Another trend is the increasing use of English speaking actors in
foreign films. We received films with English soundtracks from Italy,
Mexico, Norway, and Spain. The actors might speak with an accent, but still, they're speaking English. Presumably, like the
Swedish pop group
ABBA, foreign films are being shot in English to reach a wider
audience.
In selecting winners, films
were assessed for originality, technical mastery, acting, thematic
depth, aesthetics (how well the technical aspects supported the film's
story, characters, and themes), and entertainment value. Naturally, no
film excelled in all categories. That was expected. Only God is
perfect.
Escape the Dark isn't the slickest or most expensive of
2017's horror features. It's a crowd-funded, micro-budget effort.
Yet it delivers an engrossing story, full of unexpected twists and
eerie suspense. It might even be that its low budget -- most of the
film is set in the same apartment -- compelled the filmmakers to
focus on story, characters, and theme.
The film opens on a creepy
note. Jackie (Sarah Nicklin) reads a "true" ghost story to her
roommate, Rachel (Karli Kaiser). The lighting is dim, the setting
quiet -- too quiet -- and the actresses perform convincingly. Because
their characters seem real, their situation feels real to us.
Whereupon the supernatural intrudes upon their lives.
There's a second set of
roommates, Jon and August (Michael Slefinger and Erik Moody). Much as
in an
X-Files episode, these four roommates' lives collide due to a
phenomenon combining elements of the supernatural and science fiction.
The roommates are prey to an extra-dimensional monster. A monster that
can bend space and time. A monster that feeds on human emotions, and
is especially drawn by depression. Two of the roommates suffer from
it.
Thus we have another of
Escape the Dark's merits. It has a theme.
Depression. Of course, many films use human emotions, usually love, as
a cheap, shallow sort of "theme." Aliens land but are destroyed
because they don't understand love, etc. But
Escape the Dark's handling of depression isn't shallow. Its
characters' depressions are introduced slowly into the film, segueing
seamlessly into the plot. August's pithy monologue on what it feels
like to be depressed is a literary mini-marvel. Truthful, emotionally
gripping, neither over-written nor over-acted.
It should be truthful --
one of the filmmakers (Escape the Dark
was co-written and co-directed by Matthew Chilelli and Ben DeLoose)
claims to have suffered from depression. August's monologue on
depression is one of the film's most unsettling moments, and certainly
its most memorable.
Although shot on a
micro-budget, Escape the Dark enjoys
professional production values and a talented cast. Its limited
special effects are adequate for its conceit. More importantly, its
story is original, frightening, memorable, and thematically
compelling. The title has a dual meaning. The characters strive both
to escape the eternal night of the monster's trap, and to escape the
darkness of their own state of mind.
* Best Dramatic Horror Short:
Creswick
Creswick has a simple story.
Sam (Dana Miltins) visits her father, Colin (Chris Orchard), out in
the country. He's planning to sell his isolated house. Sam's childhood
memories are rekindled as she packs her old toys. But how accurately
does she remember her childhood in the old house? Colin reminds her
that she never liked it here, though she denies it.
Why did the young Sam dislike it here? Why does Colin's
dog dislike it now? What are those shapes and shadows that Sam thinks
she sees in the woods and in her room? Tension builds through vague
suggestions of the unnatural, until Sam enters her father's carpenter
shop late at night. There she discovers something horrifying in its
implications, even if the details remain unclear. Enough to say that
it's a horror of otherworldly
Lovecraftian dimensions.
Production values are excellent and aesthetically support
the story and characters. Acting is strong and appropriately low key,
supporting the characters' somber situation, the winding down of the
elderly Colin's affairs. Cinematography is beautiful yet eerie,
evoking the dark woods of
Twin Peaks. The sound design is especially admirable, doing much
to suggest something amiss in seemingly normal events.
It's hard to say if there's a theme, though one critic
suggests that Creswick is about the fear
of aging and death. I'm not sure about that, though I can see it.
The film is silent about the meaning of its title. I did
some research after the film won. (Because films are judged solely
by what's on screen, any information provided by filmmakers about
themselves or their films is ignored until judging is concluded.) Creswick is a town in
Australia. (This is an Aussie film.) Further research
indicates that filmmaker Natalie James hopes to turn
Creswick into a feature, so perhaps we'll
learn the meaning then.
Many short films are obviously promos for an
intended feature. They end with a cliffhanger and the nagging feeling
that the real story has just begun. To James's credit,
Creswick is not an obvious promo. It
satisfies on its own merits, ending with a sense of closure even if a
mystery remains.
Of the many supernatural horror shorts received
this year, Creswick
was the best. Full of shadows and sounds and
implications, Creswick is a masterpiece
of minimalist
Lovecraftian horror.
* Best Comedic Horror Short:
Puppy
Brian (C. Michael
Whaley) can't seem to find a girlfriend. He's failed at speed
dating, internet dating, everything. Then he's told that women love
puppies. So he gets one to attract female attention. It works!
Now every woman wants to date Brian. Alas, his cute, cuddly furball
so quickly slaughters every woman that Brian brings home, he can
only exclaim, "I didn't even get laid yet!"
Puppy follows in the tradition of absurdist horror films about
lethal cute animals (e.g.,
Black Sheep,
Night of the Lupus) or sentient hardware. Just this year we
received films featuring a killer vacuum cleaner, weed whacker,
bathtub, refrigerator, teddy bear, stuffed lion, doll, and another
puppy. Tough competition. But the puppy in
Puppy
was the funniest, his bloody antics evoking the savage bunny rabbit
from
Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
While its conceit is
unoriginal, Puppy is such an entertaining
delight that one wants to watch it again and again. Like a classic
Saturday Night Live skit, Puppy holds
up to repeated viewing. Its colorful production design and bright
lighting aesthetically support the comedy. Frenetic editing and lively
music, at appropriate moments, keep the pace brisk and the jokes
coming. Running at 16 minutes, Puppy
suffers no boredom.
Directed by Matt
Slechter from Whaley's script, Puppy also
greatly benefits from actress Rachel Swindler, who play's Brian's
platonic gal pal. She's the one who came up with the bright idea of
getting a puppy in the first place, and she there's for Brian whenever
he has to bury yet another deceased date.
* Best Animated Horror Short:
Daily Commute
Perhaps you're one of the millions
who've suffered the dehumanizing effects of mass transit. The
over-crowded buses and subways. Finding yourself squeezed amid
creepy strangers covered in mystery stains, emitting noxious odors,
secreting strange bodily fluids, suffering from loathsome diseases
or scary mental disorders.
In under a minute,
Scott Palazzo's Daily Commute captures
the essence of mass transit as a horror show. Expressing the idea
without words, his film is a form of visual poetry. The dreary hues --
dull reds and browns, with touches of sickly greens and yellows -- are
aesthetically appropriate to his theme. They also suggest Hell itself. The
bus travels through a fire that does not consume. The number of the
bus is 666. This might literally be a daily commute in Hell.
It's a horror that
New Yorkers understand. Palazzo hails from Spain, so it seems the
phenomenon knows no borders.
* Best Avant-Garde Horror Short:
Inferno
Dustin M. Rosemark's
Inferno (co-scripted with John Shook)
is a modern interpretation of
Dante's tale, following the latter's storyline but with updated
imagery. We see events through the eyes of a deceased person who is
escorted through Hell. There is no dialog. No verbal communication
with the denizens of the underworld. Only hand gestures and a
somber, ponderous music soundtrack.
Although we are in
Hell, Inferno is no haunted house ride.
Its images are discomforting and thought-provoking, rather than scary
or shocking. Our protagonist is never threatened or attacked. He is
but a witness to the fates of the damned. Many are still compulsively
indulging in the sins that got them admitted in the first place.
Seeing the lustful or greedy grasp after perverse parodies of their
desires is not a pretty sight.
Inferno's
surrealism is assisted by its black & white photography, which is
gritty and scratchy, at times underexposed, at times overexposed. The
jerky, almost stop-motion like movements of its characters also helps.
Avant-garde horror was a surprisingly
competitive category this year, with a greater than usual number of
entries. Some were quite good, but even so,
Inferno was the clear winner. An artfully made film with
lingering surreal images and profound philosophic depth. Original
despite being an adaptation of a centuries old classic poem.
Inferno
was submitted as a feature, but as it runs at 55 minutes, it qualifies
as a short. At the Tabloid Witch, 60 minutes is the minimum for a
feature. That was settled in 2005 when the 60 minutes
Mole won for Best Horror
Feature.
* Best Horror Music Video:
Nameless Lands
Directed by Olivier Treiner and
performed by
Sheriff, the Nameless
Lands music video is a lyrical, moody variant on the old tale of
trying to reanimate a dead lover. Like the protagonist in several of
Edgar Allan Poe's works, the man in Nameless Lands pines after a
woman who died at a young age. He appears to be trying to rebuild
her with soil. At one point, she seems alive inside the soil, but we
can't be sure if it's real or his imagination.
The images lend themselves to multiple
interpretations. The man is white, the woman looks Native American,
which might be why he's trying to reconstruct her using soil. Native
Americans are said to be close to their land. Frankenstein would have
used a cadaver. The
Bible is also invoked. The man eventually accepts her death and
scatters her ashes to the wind. Dust you are and to dust you shall
return.
The cinematography and production
design are professional and aesthetically appropriate. The dark muted
colors reinforce the story's somber mood, until the final, bright
sunlit scene when the man has finally accepted the woman's death.
*
Honorable Mention
Because of the extremely
competitive nature of the
Tabloid Witch -- so many films to consider! -- winning an
Honorable Mention is indeed cause for pride.
The Honorable Mention
prizes -- as with the "Best ... Film" prizes, are awarded to a
film's writer and director.
*
Demonoid 1971
As
with all winners, I wrote a detailed review explaining why
Demonoid 1971 won. However, the
filmmaker pleaded that I remove it. The reason is that
Demonoid 1971 is a film with a secret.
A secret so pervasive, embedded in the film itself, that it's hard
to accurately discuss the film without revealing it. So in deference
to the filmmaker, I won't discuss it. You'll just have to view the
trailer and wonder about this film. What is its secret?
Perhaps
someday you'll see the entire film at a festival and figure it out
then. For now, Demonoid 1971 remains the
most mysterious film ever to win a Tabloid Witch.
*
Halfway House
One of the most
original of this year's entries, Halfway House
offers a succession of surprises that are wholly unexpected, yet not
such that we scoff and lose interest. Rather, they intrigue us,
drawing us into the protagonist's predicament. The surprises are
increasingly unsettling, frightening, bizarre, and ultimately
surreal.
Joseph awakes to find
that, while he was sleeping, someone moved his washing machine from
the basement to the back porch, and tossed his clothes into the pool.
Why? Nothing was stolen. That's what makes it especially unsettling.
The lack of logical motive. Bad enough if a burglar breaks into your
home. But what does this home invader want?
Stazi, Joe's live-in
girlfriend, is unperturbed. She suggests that Joe moved the washer
while he was sleep walking. Or maybe the neighborhood kids were
pulling a prank?
Stazi is more perturbed
the next day when she awakes to discover the intruder returned last
night and -- SPOILER ALERT -- stacked chairs atop tables, even nailing
some to the walls. The conceit is brilliant in its originality,
weirdness (thus heightening our unease), and simplicity (requiring
almost no budget, demonstrating that you don't need big bucks to make
effective horror). And it's legitimately frightening. Who
breaks into a home, not to steal, but to bizarrely rearrange the
furniture? What motive?
The police
investigation adds another layer of unexpected weirdness. The two
detectives provide a small dose of absurdist comedy that
carefully treads the line of funny and creepy. Funny, but not so funny
as to dissipate the horror. Halfway House
is no Puppy.
Anyway, the police
detectives see nothing amiss, as nothing was stolen. They suspect Joe
and Stazi of ... something. And they leave in a huff.
On the third night, Joe
and Stazi stay awake, awaiting the intruder. And once again, he --
it? -- is not what you'd expect. The make-up is simple, yet
horrific. And then, when you finally think it's over, Joe exits his
house and is confronted yet again by the weird and unexpected. (No,
not a horde of more intruders. I said it was unexpected.)
Halfway House lingers in the mind, challenging us for
interpretations. Set in a pristine Speilbergian suburb, is the film a
commentary on suburbia? But if so, what is its comment? Even
the credit roll is absurd. The film is in black & white -- why? -- yet
credits a Digital Colorist.
Upon second viewing, I
determined this film is a nightmare. Halfway
House is weird because it is surreal. To its credit, it is not
so surreal that it's obviously a nightmare. It frightens
because it feels like straight horror. As if the events are real. I
guess you can watch it several times and never know that it's a
nightmare. (It is a nightmare, isn't it?)
Halfway House wasn't the slickest entry. Other films had
superior production values and special effects. But writer/director
Leslie Simpson (who also plays Joe) has created a strikingly original
tale with scares and surprises. (Unsurprisingly,
Halfway House hails from Down Under --
Aussie horror always has tended toward the offbeat.)
*
Devil Town
Yes,
Devil Town borrows from
Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The film acknowledges that.
Patrick says, "Oh, how very Invasion of the Body
Snatchers." But amid this season's flood of ghosts and witches
and demons, creepy conspiratorial horror stands out. Especially one
so across-the-board exquisite as Devil Town.
Not that
Devil Town features pods from outer
space. We never learn who they are, except that they
are replacing us. Yes, the film's title suggests they might
be demons, but they could as easily be evil ... whatever. We
never see
them except in human form. That they look horrific
is intimated but never stated. Devil Town
has no special effects. The film relies solely on story, character,
and acting.
The latter is provided by
Matt Hebden and Johnny Vivash, who play Patrick and Driscoll. Patrick
is an
obnoxious yuppie. Driscoll is a homeless man with a doomsday
sandwich board. Yuppie meets bum. It's a old conceit. To the actors'
credit, they reinvigorate these archetypes, their verbal sparring
exuding antagonistic chemistry after Driscoll swipes Patrick's cell
phone. He refuses to return it until Patrick listens to his conspiracy
theory.
The cast is assisted by
writer/director Nick Barrett's dialog, which is terse and tense. As is
typical in conspiracy horror, the setting is normal, even pedestrian
(a coffee house) and set in broad daylight. But as Driscoll proceeds
with his revelation, we start to notice things.
Apart from first rate
writing and acting, the production values -- cinematography, sound,
production design -- are top notch. Devil Town
is a slick little film, with a creepy buildup to heart-stopping
terror.
* I Never Can
Many short ghost films were
submitted this year. And many had strong production values. But most
were lacking in depth, satisfied with a shock ending. The sudden
boo! Effective, but not designed to linger in the mind.
I Never Can
lingers. It has depth. It's an impressionistic film, told in scattered
pieces. The profile of a young man haunted by his dead girlfriend, and
by his own guilt. Ghost and guilt are intertwined. One scene suggests
the ghost tricked him into admitting her haunting presence into his
life, but it's also possible that she's all in his head. That guilt
over her death compels the man to torment himself with her imagined
hauntings.
Jon Cates and Mig Windows perform
admirably as the tormented man and ghostly girlfriend, lending
emotional depth to the film's weighty themes. Windows also wrote and
co-directed. (Actors writing their own material is trending --
Puppy was scripted by its male lead.)
Rory Owens's somber lighting helps set the dark tone, with a splash of
primary colored lights (popular among so many entries this year) to
suggest the supernatural. The melancholy background music (if it can
be called music) is a further assist. That it was taken from
Freesounds.org proves yet again that high art can be achieved on a low
budget.
*
Hell of a Night
There's not much
depth to Hell of a Night. Two sisters
say they love each other and miss their dead dad, but it's a
throwaway scene, not integral to the plot.
Hell of a Night is another of the many ghost films entered
this year. Another film full of bright, primary colored lights, a la
Dario Argento. The film is neither original nor deep. What it
does, very well, is entertain.
We open with two
girls conducting a séance. A ghost appears and tragedy ensues.
Before the end we encounter multiple ghosts, bloodshed, brutality
and betrayal, slick visual effects, faint noises in the night, loud
thunderstorms and torrential rain, grindhouse gore, creepy
atmosphere, homages to
Texas Chainsaw Massacre (ghosts and meathooks), and a
rainbow's supply of bright colored lights -- enough for ten
Suspiria remakes.
Hell of a Night is your classic horror rollercoaster.
Characters are broadly sketched, lacking nuance and complexity. (Good girl, bad
girl, good ghost, bad ghost.) The tale is at times confusing,
juggling multiple ghosts, crooks, and heroines, colliding against one
another in fatal fashion. There are no memorable characters and no
real themes. (Don't be greedy?) Instead, the film is drenched in atmosphere and
driven by raw
energy.
The film hooks us with
the initial séance, and hurtles us along so we are never bored.
Confused, sometimes, but too thrilled and chilled to worry about why
this ghost showed up, or how that girl knew this key plot point.
Technically slick and fast paced, Hell of a
Night is the most consistently entertaining, popcorn horror
feature we received this year.
In the end, we are left
with a blood-drenched survivor, crying on a Texas highway. It's so
very
Texas Chainsaw Massacre. And yes indeed, it was one
Hell of a Night. This is one film that
lives up to its title.
* Sang Papier
When a short film
arrives from Canada, odds are that it will be comedic rather than
dramatic horror. Also that it will incorporate social or political
satire. Make of it what you will, but the most politically correct
films over the years have come from Canada.
Sang Papier (aka Night Crosser)
is another typical Canadian entry, in that the film can be
interpreted as commentary on illegal immigration, a hot
political potato these days. But what makes
Sang Papier provocative, rather than heavy-handed, is that
one can read multiple messages into it.
Grigore (Alexand
Fournier) is a Romanian vampire trying to enter Canada.
Sang Papier focuses on his interview with
suspicious immigration officials. I won't spoil what occurs, but one
can come away thinking that Trump is correct. The West is being
infiltrated by murderous illegals. (The nationalist or populist
position.) Or that immigrants are harmless, family oriented, and
desiring only to assimilate. (The progressive or libertarian
position.) And that they should want to assimilate. (The
moderate, centrist position.) The vampires in
Sang Papier give support to all positions, depending on how one
interprets the film.
Sang Papier is technically proficient with a competent cast.
Its humor is more dry satire than sitcom belly laughs, so the film's
dim and moody lighting is aesthetically appropriate. An added bonus is
the clever
Nosferatu homage at the film's start. Overall, an intelligent,
thought-provoking horror political satire.
* The Kind
Ones
It's odd how every
year, films arrive with the same themes or concepts, as if every
filmmaker had the same idea all at once. The
Kind Ones is another short film about the perils posed by
immigrants. As in Sang Papier, the
immigrants are East European. A married couple, they've taken in an
American foster son. They raise him according to their old country
traditions, which include beating the boy as a means of education.
This doesn't go over
well with the boy's teacher, Mrs. Andrews (Angela Trotter), who
confronts the parents. The father explains that "Our culture is
different from yours." Mrs. Andrews retorts "I don't care
what your culture is. In this country, in America, our childrens'
safety comes first."
Demanding that
immigrants assimilate to American culture is a position generally
associated with the political right. The Kind
Ones is interesting in that Mrs. Andrews argues for
assimilation from a progressive perspective. She embraces
multiculturalism in that she teaches about Kwanza in class. But
patriarchy is one cultural artifact that immigrants must ditch. They
can keep their holidays. But no traditions that support violence
against women or children.
Of course, the parents
are not as they appear. No, they're not vampires. Closer to
werewolves, but not quite. Credit writer/director Jamal Hodge with
some originality.
And credit
cinematographer Adam Richlin for his beautiful compositions. Not only
in his framing of images, but in his use of depth of field. Actors and
set pieces are nicely staged to dramatically contrast foreground and
background activity.
For instance, the
mother walks in the foreground while father watches TV in the
background, both parents moving stiffly. The images themselves are
creepy. Father stands in front of a big screen TV, fascinated by the
predators on a nature documentary. Sometimes he responds with odd
contortions. The mother is artificially perfect in her housewife role,
as if it is just a role, ready to be shed. When Mrs. Andrews
refuses a tray of fresh baked cookies, the mother tosses the tray to the floor,
losing interest in the cookies.
Actors Brandon deSpain
and Gjilberta Lucaj are excellent as Mr. & Mrs. Byleth, creating
memorably menacing monsters. deSpain's IMDb acting credits are
extensive, but The Kind Ones is Lucaj's
first role. It should not be her last.
One might read other
themes into The Kind Ones. Or one can
enjoy the film simply as horror entertainment. There are shocks and
surprises, much gore, and great monsters.
* Additional Winners
It's hard to find a zombie film with
an original twist. Perhaps that's why The Ones
That Stay Behind focuses not on the living dead, but on the
living few who have chosen not to flee, trying to eke out normal
lives behind barricades. Of course, that too has been done before,
but The Ones That Stay Behind rises
above previous versions largely on the strength of its cast, and
most especially that of its lead actress.
An abused wife and mother, Alice strives for domestic perfection
long after her son and husband are dead. Terrified by zombies, unable
to make hard choices, frightened and suspicious of the stranger who
rescues her, by film's end she discovers her self-worth and
self-confidence, overcoming her fears to where she now rescues others.
It's an extensive character arc, incorporating fear, anger, grief,
compassion and neurosis, partially repressed by the suspicions
and heightened caution typical of a woman used to abuse.
Kelly Lou Dennis
wins for Best Dramatic Actress.
Edgar Allan
Poe's
Tell Tale Heart has been adapted too many times to track -- on
stage, TV, radio, short films -- both as student and professional
projects. But no one has ever tried to stretch Poe's brief tale into a
feature length film. Until now.
Remarkably, the adaptation
stays faithful to the source material. The final scene with the
arrival of the police introduces some new dialog into the story, but
Poe's first person narrative tale is stretched to feature length
mostly by Berkoff's pregnant pauses and onscreen busywork.
Despite Cookson's
direction, the film is justly titled Steven
Berkoff's Tell Tale Heart. As the madman obsessed with "the old
man's eye," Berkoff is nearly the sole performer, dominating the
film's 80 minutes in what is essentially a one man show. A heavy
burden. Yet his presence is so magnetic and
intricately nuanced that we are compelled to watch.
Berkoff
avoids the temptation to chew scenery. His lunatic's psychosis
simmers beneath the surface, then bubbles over as his speech quickens, tone
intensifying, and then simmers down again. About to strike, but
pulling back as he struggles to appear sane. Until the opportune
moment.
More than any other film this year,
Steven Berkoff's Tell Tale Heart's
success or failure depended on its lead actor. In a sense, the film
is Berkoff and Poe. And in Berkoff, Poe has received a
memorable performance for his unforgettable work.
Steven Berkoff wins for Best Dramatic Actor.
Brian's platonic gal pal, Charli, is every dateless
nerd's fantasy best friend. She's pretty and she loves video
games. She's also sassy, sarcastic, and smart. (You can tell, because
she wears glasses.) Always ready with a plan or down for a caper, she
not only advises Brian how to score with chicks, she takes the lead in
figuring out how to dispose of their bodies once puppy has killed said
chicks.
Actress Rachel Swindler has the sort of lively persona necessary for
Puppy's sitcom conceit. Clever yet
ditzy, part Tina Fey and part Lucille Ball, with a dash of Meg Ryan
romcom spunk (Charli secretly carries a torch for Brian), Swindler
adds a bright and funny spark to an already bright and funny film.
Rachel Swindler wins for
Best Comedic Actress.
Whereas Charli
is the girlfriend many men want, Joe is the first date many women
fear. Outwardly charming, supportive, and attentive -- he even cooks!
-- Joe's perfect facade hides a creepy side. He collects ashes -- the
cremated remains of dead relatives, pets, and employees. He offers a
tearjerker explanation: being close to loved ones helps him get
through rough times.
Bob Turton brings a sitcom
sensibility to Joe. His rubbery face shifts rapidly from overly
jubilant, to overly sorrowful, to overly sensitive, however the
situation requires. His expressions are funny, lively, and effectively
convey Joe's phoniness.
Women have long complained
that the "sensitive nice guy" facade is often just an act aimed at
manipulating women. As Joe proves to his date (Melissa Hunter) in
Ashes.
Bob Turton wins
for Best Comedic Actor.
We
don't know who -- or what -- that sleazily sultry patron is
in Bitch, Popcorn & Blood. She might be a
demon or a schizophrenic fantasy from the dark side of Lily's psyche.
The credit roll lists her only as La Femme Fatale, so she is certainly
meant to be taken as an archetype.
Jane Badler stamps her own
strong, catty impression on that wellworn 1940s stock character.
Effortlessly evil, Badler is like the little devil on your shoulder. A
bad-to-the-bones bitch who goads nice girl Lily to lash out at all the
people pissing her off, which Lily does in over-the-top, bloody
fashion. Making Badler proud.
Jane Badler wins
for Best Supporting Actress.
As
Algernon Sykes, the villain in The Gatehouse,
Linal Haft is a neighborly fellow with a nefarious air. His fluid face
is a smiling, sinister river, flowing smoothly from charming to creepy
and back again. A
cheerful mate whose friendly remarks might conceal a threat, or not. A
kindly old man who shows his gun to little girls.
Hitchcock believed that good villains made for good suspense, and
(like his fellow Brit, Steven Berkoff) Haft creates a richly textured
and nuanced villain. We suspect Haft's Sykes from the start, but can
never be sure about him until the end.
Linal Haft wins for Best Supporting Actor.
Eternity (the little's girl's name) lives with her single
dad in The Gatehouse, at the
edge of a magical forest. She is a typical enough child protagonist.
Precocious, imaginative, bullied at school. At times smart-alecky to
the point of annoying, but with enough vulnerability and love for her
dad that we don't hate her for it.
Acting guru Konstantin Stanislavski said that small children are natural
actors, because they've not yet learned to repress their truthful
emotions. They're always at ease, responding in whatever way feels
honest.
As Eternity, Scarlett Rayner always performs "in the moment,"
responding naturally to events about her. A little ball of energy,
interposing into every scene like a child seeking attention (such as
when she swipes the business card a police woman offers her dad, then
waves it at him while the adults ignore her --
The Gatehouse is full of Raynor's
little acting gems).
Scarlett Rayner's
natural performance and casual charm earns her Best Child
Actress.
Like Scarlett Rayner, Kadin Bray gives a natural
performance, but with a difference. Far from a ball of energy, Kadin
(also the character's name) is a somber, stoic boy, still haunted by
the memory of his missing sister -- and by stranger things
when he goes camping alone and unearths some mysteries about his
sister.
In much of Interlaced, Bray is the sole
actor on screen, interacting only with strange lights and noises in
the woods. When frightened, he never overacts or mugs for the camera.
Through much of the film, he conveys a quiet sadness and seriousness,
the result of being forced to grow up too fast by circumstances.
Unlike Steven Berkoff, Bray's role does not involve a feature length
monologue. But like Berkoff, Bray's role dominates his film, its
success or failure depending largely on him.
Interlaced is a simple tale of the supernatural, strongly
assisted by Bray's simple but substantive performance.
Kadin Bray wins for
Best Child Actor.
Night
Kaleidoscope is not so much a horror story as a
visual experience. We see Edinburgh through the eyes of vampires,
the eyes (and mind) of a psychic vampire hunter, and finally,
metaphorically, as a city tormented by the tormented.
The film
is dreamlike, elusory, impressionistic. Lots of shaky
camerawork, frenzied editing (quick cuts and jump cuts), heavy use of
lens filters and blurry shots, colored street lights smearing across a
twilight or nighttime sky, and an occasional video glitch for a
further bit of grittiness.
Night Kaleidoscope is a
horror art film that lives up to its name. The script is scant. The
story emerges not so much from the actors' dialog as from a collage of
images.
Grant McPhee wins
for
Best Cinematography.
Creswick
is a film of shadows and sounds. Not just the sudden loud noises
that startle an audience. Those are easy to pull off.
Creswick has those, but also other
sounds filled with portent.
When Sam enters her father's carpenter shop late at
night, the unduly loud rattling of his machine unnerves us, preparing
us for what Sam sees after she silences the machine. There are those
unearthly nondiegectic noises when Sam wanders the woods. Also the
eerie silence as Colin discusses the past with Sam.
Sound is an active participant in
Creswick, creating atmophere and adding
texture to the story.
The Best Sound Design
award goes to Ryan Granger & Adam Hunt.
In
Shanda's River, Emma (Margherita
Remotti) is trapped in a time loop, killed each day by masked
cultists. The constant time shifts, intercut with diabolic imagery
of unknown origin and meaning (nightmares? flashbacks?
flashforwards?) calls for careful editing to create mystery without
confusion. Rapid cuts at appropriate moments further assist in
conveying emotional intensity and terror, without overdoing it in
MTV fashion.
Shanda's River is one of
several
Dario Argento inspired witch films submitted this year.
(Appropriately, it hails from Italy.) It's the film that most
effectively applies the art of editing to support its story conceit
and character arc (Emma's emotional breakdown and subsequent
resurgence), while creating an exciting viewing experience.
Giorgio Galbiati wins for Best Editing.
When
Afrodita's (La China Patino) car breaks down, she must spend the night
at a spooky hotel. We know she's in trouble when we see the hotel in
the distance. Its silhouette resembles the hotel in
Psycho. Its interior is likewise
ominous, abounding in old furnishings and lamp fixtures, dreary
wallpapers and cobwebs.
In any haunted house film, the house (or hotel)
itself becomes a character. The production design in
Room for Rent ensures that its hotel
poses a proper and believable threat to Afrodita.
Jaime Boyero
wins for
Best Production Design.
Many
entries had slick, professional make-up effects featuring the usual
bloody gore. Nicely done, but unexceptional. However, a few films
stood out for their originality. The best of these were the monsters
in The Kind Ones.
No, that's not a monster to the right.
That's one of the monsters' victims. The film has gore, and again,
nicely done. But it's the monsters that linger in the mind.
We won't show you the monsters,
because the shock value derives partially from their surprisingly
ghastly faces. It'd be a shame to spoil that surprise for you. But
rest assured, the monsters go far in making The
Kind Ones a memorable horror happening.
David Rodriguez
wins for Best Make-Up Effects.
The
Unwilling is a classic haunted house thrill ride. Six people
trapped in a house by Satan, who, knowing their fears and desires,
throws all manner of terrors and temptations their way. It's the sort
of story that calls for a funhouse worth of effects, which the film
delivers. Pools of darkness engulf the house, illusions manifest,
rooms contract and transform, and much else.
David Stump, Jennifer Law-Stump
& Bertone Visuals
win for
Best Visual Effects.
Because
this award is not for Best Music but for Best Music Soundtrack,
scores are judged largely by how they interact with and contribute
to events onscreen.
From the instant she disembarks the train in
Shanda's River, the music's eerily cold
tones suggest that unnatural forces threaten Emma. The music (together
with a wide angle lens) transforms an ordinary train station into
something sinister. The scene itself is an homage to Suzy's exit from
the airport in Suspiria, both women
leaving the safety of modern public transport for a witch's lair in
the woods.
At times the music deepens and intensifies, such as
when the cultists attack. Always it remains emotionally distant and
imposing, suggesting the impersonal cruelty of the supernatural forces
tormenting Emma.
Mauro Crivelli wins for Best Music Soundtrack.
* The Final
Tally
Tabloid Witch Award Winners
*
Best Horror Feature Film
.......................... Matthew Chilelli & Ben DeLoose (Escape
the Dark)
*
Best Dramatic Horror Short Film ..............
Natalie Erika James
& Christian White (Creswick)
* Best Comedic Horror Short Film ..............
Matt Slechter & C. Michael Whaley (Puppy)
* Best Animated Horror Short Film .............. Scott Palazzo
(Daily Commute)
* Best Avant-Garde Horror Short Film ........ Dustin M. Rosemark &
John Shook (Inferno)
*
Best Horror Music Video .......................... Olivier Treiner (Nameless
Lands)
*
Best Dramatic Actress ..............................
Kelly Lou Dennis (The
Ones That Stay Behind)
* Best Dramatic Actor
.................................. Steven Berkoff
(Steven
Berkoff's Tell Tale Heart)
* Best
Comedic Actress ..............................
Rachel Swindler
(Puppy)
* Best Comedic Actor
.................................. Bob Turton
(Ashes)
* Best Supporting
Actress ...........................
Jane Badler (Bitch, Popcorn &
Blood)
* Best Supporting
Actor ............................... Linal Haft (The
Gatehouse)
*
Best Child Actress ....................................
Scarlett Rayner (The
Gatehouse)
* Best Child Actor
........................................ Kadin Bray
(Interlaced)
* Best Cinematography
...............................
Grant McPhee (Night Kaleidoscope)
* Best Sound Design
...................................
Ryan Granger & Adam Hunt (Creswick)
* Best Editing
............................................... Giorgio Galbiati (Shanda's River)
* Best Production
Design ............................
Jaime Boyero (Room
for Rent)
* Best Visual Effects
....................................
David Stump, Jennifer Law-Stump & Bertone Visuals (The Unwilling)
* Best Make-Up
Effects ............................... David Rodriguez (The Kind Ones)
* Best Music
Soundtrack ............................. Mauro Crivelli (Shanda's
River)
Tabloid Witch Honorable Mentions
* Alaric S. Rocha
(Demonoid
1971)
* Leslie Simpson (Halfway House)
* Nick Barrett
(Devil Town)
* Mig Windows & Rory Owens
(I
Never Can)
* Brian Childs
(Hell of a Night)
* Kevin T. Landry &
Christine Doyon (Sang Papier)
* Jamal Hodge
(The Kind Ones)
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