Dispatches from the Underworld

Horror and gaming

2011-11-04T16:47:00.000Z

Horror is one of my passions. Another is gaming.

Now, I don't mean the kind with the controllers and the fancy graphics, but the tabletop variety. Buy some models, glue them together, paint them up and then roll some dice; what could be more fun than that?

The two hobbies don't always have to be so separate - many of the big games incorporate elements of the horror genre, and there are some less well known rulesets that fall totally within our little realm. Here I'll have a look at two of the best and most popular.

Warhammer

Games Workshop is the biggest name in wargaming today, with its two flagship games: Warhammer and Warhammer 40,000. The latter is currently the most popular, with its setting comprising the "grim darkness of the 41st millenium". Chunks of the setting could be classified as horror - Tyranids are pretty horrific, and Necrons are basically a robotic version of the undead - but it is plain old Warhammer, GW's fantasy game, that really brings out the horror.

Warhammer is a game in which you pick an army, build and paint that army, then send them to war against an opponent, taking it in turns to move, cast spells, shoot and fight in combat. Some of the armies are standard Tolkien-esque choices: dwarfs, various kinds of elves, men, orcs, goblins and ogres.

But alongside that we have two obvious horror choices: Vampire Counts and Tomb Kings. These form GW's interpretation of two undead traditions: vampires and mummies. Both contain some simply gorgeous miniatures. Genre junkies might also be attracted, however, to the Skaven, a race of warped rat-men, Daemons of Chaos, the embodiment of the swirling magics of the north, and the Beastmen, men deformed into horned wild animals.

Malifaux

Malifaux is a game rising in popularity fast. It's a much smaller scale game than Warhammer, focusing on small skirmishes. Much of its popularity is due to its reliance on innovative and interesting game mechanics, such as the use of a deck of cards instead of fistfuls of dice and goals more in depth than "kill!".

Horror in the Malifaux universe is mostly of the gothic/Victorian sensibility, although it has a hefty dose of steampunk for good measure. The game encompasses witches, Lovecraftian slimy things, serial killer butchers, creepy-as-hell children, and even creepier teddies. Yep.

A Halloween movie marathon

2011-10-30T21:13:00.000Z

Happy Halloween one and all! It took me a little while to work out what I wanted to blog about on this most precious of holidays, but eventually I decided I'd share my movie marathon plans. I'm all partied out, so this Halloween is going to be spent slumped in front of the telly with a pile of junk food and a pile of classic films. I put a decent amount of thought into creating a varied list that flows well, and alternates between the genuinely scary and the easier to handle stuff for a little bit of relief.

[REC]
Kicking off with some edge-of-your-seat infection action, this hugely popular 2007 Spanish flick is easily the best found-footage romp since Blair Witch started the whole damn thing. Also thought we'd get the subtitles out the way at the beginning before your brain begins to melt from the non-stop terror (or alcohol).

Re-Animator
It may not be particularly faithful to Lovecraft's original yarn, but Re-Animator has a dedicated fanbase for a reason - it's bloody fantastic, and absolute comedy genius. With a thoroughly Frankensteinian mentality, director Stuart Gordon created a film that's at once charming, intelligent and utterly absorbing.

Insidious
I was a latecomer to Insidious, but I wish I'd have caught it in the cinema. The first film in a long time that's freaked me out quite so much. It unfortunately goes a little off the rails during all the out of body stuff, but that does little to detract from a genuinely scary, highly original tale that superbly draws on the fears we have for the ones we love combined with demons, witches and, um, ghostbusters.

May
2002's May sums up what makes Lucky McKee a superb director, and Angela Bettis a superb actress. It's weird, it's wacky, it has messed up characters you love in spite of the horrible things they do. It's eminently quotable, and will plaster a smile across your face.

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre
The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is just as harrowing now as it was in 1974. The name implies a gore-fest, but the film itself is understated, trading in quiet, slow grow scares rather than spattering blood. Hooper manages to make a chase scene last an entire half of the movie, and holds the tension at haemorrhage-inducing levels throughout.

An American Werewolf in London
There are few films more suited to watching with a few friends over a bucket of popcorn. Worth watching for the infamous CGI-free transformation scene (so impressive it inspired a new award category at the Oscars), but it reaches near-perfection when combined with its sublime script, flawless acting and skilful directing. A true classic.

War of the remakes

2011-10-27T12:28:00.001+01:00

Remakes are a much maligned thing. Many within the community begin to froth at the mouth when the word slides into the news (or reboot, or reimagining, or whatever word is being used to make the work sound less derivative). That's not to say no one likes them, nor indeed that anyone hates all of them. To take a few recent high-profile examples, some (strange) people actually enjoyed the Friday the 13th remake, and the three dimensional interpretations of Piranha and My Bloody Valentine were generally well received.

So what is it that sparks the hate? Let's preface this by pointing out that geeks (and I'm including myself here) can occasionally, maybe, possibly, overreact, get a little over-emotional. When you're invested in something, truly passionate about something (and that's basically what a geek is, after all), it can be a little hard to handle when you perceive somebody as attacking what you're passionate about.

Yes, attacking. It might seem like an exaggeration, but when a treasured film is taken by people who aren't themselves passionate about it, don't know or care about its existing fanbase and is remade, "attack" isn't too much of a stretch, albeit in an artistic sense. This is what it comes down to really; remakes tend to be hated because they're perceived as ruining existing, popular movies.

They tend to be remakes of popular movies because that's where the money lies, and in turn they're hated for viewing classic films in a purely capitalistic fashion.

Prime example? The Wicker Man. Robin Hardy's 1973 film is deservedly regarded as a classic. Neil LaBute's 2006 interpretation is... not. I'd actually managed to avoid watching it until recently, whereupon I popped it on for reasons I'm not entirely clear of myself. Honestly, it's surprisingly faithful to the original. It also does a fantastic job of having every change they did make turn the film into a far inferior, nonsensical production. But if it had been good, would I hate it anyway? I don't think so, but by modelling itself on a classic it certainly sets the bar far higher than setting itself up as an original work.

So when should a film be remade? When the original failed to achieve what it set out to do, but had good ideas. Or when it's aged badly. Or when you have a genuinely interesting idea to throw into the mix. What generally isn't necessary is a paint by numbers copy of a movie, simply with modern Hollywood funding.

Two great examples of modern remakes that actually improved upon the original are 2010's The Crazies and this year's Don't Be Afraid of the Dark. The former took one of Romero's lesser known and most poorly received films and turned it into a fresh, fun and slick modern horror film that did well both at the box office and critically. The latter took a cult 1973 TV movie and transformed it into a well received, fun, family film. Both capitalised on the original and interesting ideas present in the first attempts, but ignored those elements that didn't work, and were ruthless about making changes and improvements where deemed necessary. Don't Be Afraid of the Dark, for example, added an entirely new child character and used her as the protagonist. And it worked fantastically.

There are exceptions to these general rules of course. Matt Reeves' Let Me In took the hugely loved, award winning Let the Right One In, did little but change the language, and arguably threw out a better film at the other end. I'm a little flummoxed as to how he managed it, but a reverence for the source material is definitely key.

But as long as we keep flocking to see shoddily remade films, shoddily remade films will keep getting made. Just remember, next time one of your childhood favourites enters the cycle: the original still exists. Take a deep breath. It's going to be okay.

The Raven

2011-10-25T16:50:00.000+01:00

Today's post is a little different; a dry run for a podcast I'm hoping to start soon focussing on classic works of literature. What follows is a recitation (by me) of Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven, easily the best known work of horror poetry, and for good reason.

Testament to its popularity and power; there are few pieces of poetry that have even been (more or less) faithfully portrayed in an episode of The Simpsons.

It's a work that is best appreciated when read aloud or, failing that, listened to. When spoken, the rhythms, rhymes and sense of place truly come to life.

I'm not claiming I can do this masterpiece justice, but the recording below is an attempt.

The Raven by tsvallender

The Strain

2011-10-24T17:31:00.001+01:00

The Strain is the first novel in a trilogy by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan. Del Toro is a much loved director and film writer by horror fans, despite the fact little of his work beyond Mimic can be directly classified as horror. It does however, regularly draw on ideas and imagery from the genre, to fantastic effect. The Strain marks his first foray into prose. Hogan is not an author who's work I'm familiar with, but is best known for his novel Prince of Thieves, upon which the film The Town was based and - as is regularly pointed out by his PR folk - chosen as one of 2005s best novels by Stephen King.

One thing I always wonder when met with a co-authored novel is how the workload was shared, and in a situation such as this, with a celebrity (of sorts) working with an existing author, it's tempting to assume that the bulk of the writing was done by Hogan. Tempting, but probably unfair.

The novel is a vampiric one, dealing with the outbreak of a vampire plague in New York. It uses many of the traditional vampiric traits, abandons others and reinterprets a couple, mostly with the apparent goal of making the creature appear more believable, more scientific. It works, managing to make the whole thing more distressing by rooting it more thoroughly in the modern world. These are still vampires: hurt by daylight, by silver, needing blood to survive. But gone are the religious links and in is an explanation and thoroughly creepy description of the virus, the way it hijacks the human body to its own ends. Dealing with vampirism as a plague, the book is in most ways more similar to zombie novels than traditional vampire-based ones. In this way it taps into both the recent fads in horror literature, but won't quite sit easy in either.

The duo's writing style is mostly top notch, and flows well. I've heard complaints from some that the novel moves too slowly, but the writing is absorbed into your brain with such ease I find such comments hard to agree with. The main place their writing falls down is in two places, and these are my main complaints about the book.

Firstly, they have a habit of dropping out of the narrative to explain a point, whether it's the purpose of a surgical instrument, the meaning of a word or a piece of science. The story is stopped, a lesson given, and the story resumed, where perhaps a more skilful writer would convey their point without breaking pace. Secondly comes the authors' propensity to heavy handedly explain their allegories and euphemisms, often with the effect of painful to read prose that screams of "You see what we did there?". These two combined can create at times the feeling that the pair are talking down to you a little, that they don't carry much faith in their reader's intelligence.

Despite these flaws, del Toro and Hogan manage to spin a yarn that's engaging, fast-paced and hugely enjoyable. Whilst including little of del Toro's signature style and originality, the book is easy to recommend to anyone after a modern, interesting and absorbing take on vampirism. It's simply not likely to make the same impact on literature as his films make on cinema.

Horror on the small screen

2011-10-21T17:36:00.000+01:00

I love horror TV shows. I grew up with the Goosebumps books, moved from there to the TV version, and the love has stayed with me. Whether it's Twilight Zone, Masters of Horror, Fear Itself, Tales from the Crypt, Freddy's Nightmares or any of the myriad of others that have stalked our screens over the years, they have a place in my heart. Most of what I'm about to say can also be applied to anthology films (a la Creepshow and Trick 'r Treat), which makes sense seeing as they can be thought of as basically three or four shows sandwiched together.

Because of the huge amount of money and time it takes to make a modern movie, most of them play it safe. Even those that do break new ground and are genuinely great tend to stick to the same tried and tested formulas overall, and can't really afford to simply stick their necks out, say "screw it", and just try something and see if it sticks.

TV, with its smaller budget, smaller timeslots, smaller scale, gives creators a much tighter frame to work in and as many a creative would agree, a tightly confined sandbox can actually result in much more original output. Masters of Horror, one of my personal favourites, has legendary horror directors trying out ideas that would be extremely unlikely to ever make it to the silver screen, but many of them work fantastically. Even those that miss the mark are usually interesting experiments if nothing else.

To stick with Masters of Horror, notable episodes include Tom Holland's (Child's Play, Fright Night) We All Scream for Ice Cream about a revenge-driven ghostly ice cream man, Tobe Hooper's (The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Poltergeist) Dance of the Dead focussing on reanimated dancing corpses, John Landis' (An American Werewolf in London, Burke & Hare) Deer Woman which is succinctly summed up by its title and Stuart Gordon's (Re-Animator, The Pit and the Pendulum) The Dreams in the Witch House, an H.P. Lovecraft adaptation that's actually good.

All of these episodes showcase well-known and loved directors working with ideas that may well not have made it into the harsher world of movie making. Maybe too wacky, maybe not able to stretch to 90+ minutes, maybe too much of a risk.

I'm not kidding myself, I'm not saying it's all gold. The aforementioned Freddy's Nightmares was especially guilty of churning out tat, much of which has aged especially badly. But I think TV is a poorer place for its lack of anything like the above, and I'm not alone. If you want to watch some horror and can't see a movie you fancy, give one of these shows a try. You won't regret it.

A Horrible Way to Die

2011-10-20T15:55:00.001+01:00

Adam Wingard is something of a darling of the horror community at the moment, but is somehow a director I've managed to pass up until I popped on A Horrible Way to Die last night. With a plethora of short films under his belt, AHWTD is Wingard's third feature length effort, and what an effort it proved to be.

The serial killer genre is possibly even more guilty than others of churning out cookie-cutter clones (with Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer being one of the few and best known exceptions to the rule), so it's great when something this original surfaces.

I'm not going to talk too much about the plot beyond what unfolds in the first few minutes, because I really do recommend you check this out for yourselves. The movie follows two people who's lives have been torn apart - Sarah, who is a recovering from alcoholism and a relationship that fell apart (to say the least), and our serial killer friend, Turrell. Seen escaping at the outset of the movie, we are made to almost feel sorry for him in a masterful piece of filming in which he genuinely seems unable to prevent himself killing, despite rampant self-hatred for doing so.

The scenes of Turrell committing murder are harrowing and understated, made powerful by emotional acting and the suggestion of what is just off-camera, what happened just before we were invited in. It's a delicate and risky balance, especially when so much of the modern genre is gore and torture porn, but is executed with vast amounts of skill.

It's not a perfect movie by any means. There were mentions of Turrell being a "popular" serial killer, with a much-visited Facebook page and receiving the highest amount of correspondence of any inmate at whatever prison he was in. Such additions felt bolted-on, unnecessary, and lowered the tone a little, giving the impression of trying desperately to give the film some postmodern chic.

As the movie drew to an end I grew increasingly fearful they were about to spoil things with a needless and overcomplicated twist, and they almost did. What unfolds at the climax of the film refrains from being the sort of nonsensical about-turn I've grown to loathe the prevalence of, but I still can't help but think it would have been stronger to play it straight up, no surprises needed, just strong writing, emotion-filled acting and the same superb directing that's laced throughout the whole thing.

So despite the flaws just mentioned, I can't recommend this highly enough. Original and powerful, with well scripted, relatable characters, Wingard has created a masterpiece.

Neonomicon

2011-10-19T14:43:00.001+01:00

I decided to buy the first issue of Neonomicon based on two things: it's written by Alan Moore (Watchmen, V for Vendetta, From Hell), and it was described to me by the friendly comic book store folk as "making Lovecraft creepy again". I'm as much as a sucker for the glut of cutesy Cthulhu tat that's taken over shelves in recent years as any other nerd, but it can make it hard to take some of the mythos seriously. If the entire point of Cthulhu is to be far beyond human understanding, seeing him as a 4" plush kinda messes that up.

With Neonomicon, Moore takes the Lovecraftian setting, gives it his own twist and dumps a whole load of sex on top - something Lovecraft himself was always "squeamish" about, to use Moore's phrasing. It works, and works well, managing to give the whole thing a very adult feel whilst refraining from becoming gratuitous. Which is impressive, considering quite how much sex and violence, often combined, there is. It's really no exaggeration to say the story revolves around sex, and perhaps this is why it never feels unnecessary - it's an integral part of the tale, not played for cheap thrills. It's also normally so dark as to not come within miles of being arousing.

Somehow Moore manages to cram into four issues what would take most writers far more, giving proceedings a fast paced feeling and meaning a lot of stuff happens in every issue - something that far too often can't be said about comic series. I won't spoil the ending, but will say it left me grinning from ear to ear. Moore's signature dark wit and fantastic storytelling ability shine through.

The art, by Jacen Burrows, is of the fairly standard American comic book style, but very much at the high end of that scale. The matter of fact, realistic style presents proceedings in a clinical way that manages to make them even more harrowing and impactful.

The story is a sequel to Moore's short story The Courtyard, but is totally standalone - I've not read the short story and didn't feel at any point that I should have. I do, however, now very much want to seek it out. It's also available in comic form, again with art by Burrows.

A collected edition is released next month by Avatar Press, and comes highly recommended if you're a fan of dark, gritty, sexually loaded stories involving FBI agents, tentacles and lots of blood. And who isn't?

Stephen King's Cell

2011-10-18T17:07:00.001+01:00

You can't go too far wrong when picking up a Stephen King novel. When he's on top form, you're going to get a genuine classic, when he's not you're still going to get an absorbing, easy to read, exciting romp. Lately I've been bemoaning how King simply is the horror genre for many people (just take a look at the most popular horror on Goodreads), but there's good reason for it: he's consistently awesome. Despite the subject matter, for me and many others, King is the go-to for a comfort read.

This is why although I can say Cell is one of his worst novels, I can simultaneously say I enjoyed it, and can recommend it.

Cell opens with a pulse being sent out through mobile phones that turns people into mindless zombie-type creatures, and this sets the stage nicely for a standard zombie-type story. So it's a pleasant surprise when the effects of the pulse begin to change and the tale becomes increasingly original. What's a shame is that the originality isn't always for the best. Although the cause of the pulse is never explained (as these things generally aren't, and usually for the best as most explanations are just shoddy), when King begins to explain the way the pulse works it falls a little flat. When he's describing the way both the human brain and computer systems work, it can seem strained at the least.

But this doesn't detract too badly from what is a solid work. It's a good novel to lose yourself in on a lazy day, best digested in a few big sittings. At times it's reminiscent of a sort of The Stand-lite, which is no complaint.

Although King has finished a screenplay, a movie doesn't seem to be on the horizon any time soon, which is a shame as the writing was extremely cinematic. Whilst Eli Roth was attached to the project, he left over "differences in opinion". King's also stated that he's changed the ending in the screenplay, which is highly intriguing as the ending was one of my primary gripes. The novel ends with a cliffhanger, and while I've nothing against this when done well, neither of the possible options - which I'll refrain from spoiling - are particularly satisfying.

So if you like the sound of an easy read infection novel with a sprinkling of originality, by all means dive in, just don't be expecting his best work.

Dead Man's Bones - Dead Man's Bones

2011-10-17T17:33:00.000+01:00

Dead Man's Bones is the debut album from, well, Dead Man's Bones, a band formed in 2008 by actor Ryan Gosling (The Notebook, Lars and the Real Girl, Drive) and friend Zach Shields. The album began its life as an idea for a stage show based around a mutual love for ghosts and the macabre. When the plans were abandoned, the music remained.

I was made aware of their existence by Rue Morgue's first Hymns from the House of Horror compilation, released last year. The track on that release - My Body's a Zombie for You - is a strange mix of upbeat rhythms, creepy child chanting and catchy tunes. It's a formula they use to great effect across the entire album. Broadly identifiable as indie folk-rock, the album doesn't really sit easy in any one genre.

From sombre to poppy and peppy, Gosling and Shields make the most of the variety of instruments at their disposal, and Silverlake Conservatory Children’s Choir shine. Too many musical endeavours that make use of children's choirs end up sounding tacky or simply bad, but not here. Partly due to the skill of the choir, mostly due to the skill in their utilisation.

Highlights include In the Room Where You Sleep, the aforementioned My Body's a Zombie for You, Pa Pa Power and Lose Your Soul. The album really glows when experienced as that, though - an album, not as the odd song here or there. Perhaps due to its inception as one coherent tale, there is a feeling of musical narrative draped over the whole thing.

Often reminiscent of Arcade Fire, occasionally - bizarrely - The Polyphonic Spree, a smattering of Supergrass and sometimes even stepping into barbershop quartet territory with Paper Ships, Dead Man's Bones shines with originality, catchy tunes and creepy riffs. The ghostly influence is clear without being thrust in your face, making it a record that's by no means just for the horror nerds amongst us. A big thumbs up from me, so go grab your copy today!

Haute Tension, female protagonists and that ending I'm sick of.

2011-10-14T18:40:00.003+01:00

SPOILERS
The following post contains massive spoilers for the movie Haute Tension. If you haven't watched it I highly recommend you do so before continuing.

Haute Tension (or High Tension, for all us unsophisticated monoglots, or even Switchblade Romance by its UK title), is a 2003 slasher flick hailing from France and directed by Alexandre Aja (The Hills Have Eyes remake, Piranha 3D). It's become something of a cult classic, and when I first watched it it was after having seen it on multiple people's "top horror movies" lists. I rewatched it yesterday by accident - I forgot I'd seen it. Forgotten well enough that by the time the twist came around it managed to shock and utterly disappoint me for a second time.

Haute Tension follows Marie as she goes to stay with her friend Alex and her parents, so she can focus on study with no distractions. As we watch the pair driving and joking, the actors do a fantastic job of portraying two best friends, bitching at each other in the way only the truly close really do. Before all this, however, we're treated to a dream sequence - Marie, wounded and running through the forest. When she wakes, she tells Alex she was running from herself.

If you didn't guess it from that, here's the spoiler: Marie is the killer, as a paranoid schizophrenic. When she tells Alex she was running from herself, this was the first possibility that jumped into my head, and made me want to turn off instantly. I am sick of the schizophrenia twist. It's cheap, tacky, and adds nothing to the movie unless extremely well done.

Don't get me wrong, the first time I saw a film using the device I was blown away. Somehow, that first movie for me was Hide & Seek, and at the time it seemed original and exceedingly clever. It wasn't, of course, I'd just managed to miss the umpteen movies that had done it before.

It also opened up a whole heap of plot holes that suggest the twist was a last minute addition rather than a thought-through part of the story. Primarily, where on earth did the van come from? If it was only in her mind, that relegates entire other portions of the story to her mind, until we're getting close to the whole damn thing being a dream. And what on earth was that scene with the killer pleasuring himself with a decapitated head about, if she's the killer?

I watch a lot of terrible movies however, and rarely do they put up my hackles like this. The reason it annoyed me quite so much in this particular film was how well executed so much else was. Up until the point Marie is revealed to be the killer, she is portrayed as an intelligent, quick-thinking and confident lead character. And the genre is desperately in need of strong female characters. Hell, cinema as a whole is, but the situation in horror is especially dim. Far too often are female characters sidelined, used as nothing but titillation, used as damsels in distress or simply not present at all. There are, of course, shining counterexamples ([REC] and The Descent spring to mind) but they are depressingly outnumbered, and it's dismaying to see a film that came so close make such a U-turn. Not only is Marie the killer, her primary motivation is her love for Alex. Because, y'know, that's what lesbians are likely to do, what with all that suppressed sexual energy.

I'm not saying any of this was intentional on Aja's part, and maybe I'm just reading too much into it and overreacting. It's not like there aren't other movies I could rant this way about. It's a testament to the quality of large parts of the movie that I'm as invested as I am. I guess this is just my plea to film-makers everywhere. No more schizophrenia. More female role models. Please?

Dead Space: Salvage

2011-10-13T18:21:00.000+01:00

Dead Space was the first game in a very long time that has truly sucked me in, made me thoroughly explore its universe, ferret out every little secret and play through multiple times. Oh, and freak me the hell out.

Seeing how much I loved it, I'm mostly happy about the fact EA seemed to leap on Dead Space as a target to build an expanded universe around, and to date have created two animated movies, two graphic novels, a one-shot comic, a novel, a Wii spinoff game, a universally panned downloadable mini-game and a sequel (which I am still waiting to play as soon as I have a new console).

I'm a sucker for this kind of thing - once I'm invested in a world I want to know everything about it. I'm often tempted to buy stuff even when I know it's highly likely to be crap. In other words, I'm a completist.

Here I want to talk about Salvage, the latest graphic novel, which was released in the run up to the Dead Space 2 launch.

First things first, what hits you as soon as you open the book is simply how beautiful this thing is. I loved the art in the original Dead Space graphic novel, but it was less well suited to the universe. With art by Christopher "Ronin" Shy this time - no stranger to the genre - the imagery is effortlessly evocative of the wonderfully creepy atmosphere the game oozes with. Too often comics are guilty of supplying stunning cover-art and putting far less effort into what's inside. Not here. Whilst occasionally Shy's unique style can dip into the uncanny valley, or sometimes leave characters with somewhat wooden features, these are mere nitpicks. It is perfectly suited to the setting and a real joy to admire.

Unfortunately the story fails to reach the same heights. Whilst the writing is solid and the characters are believable, the plot fails to tread any new ground or add to the setting in any real way. We're told the story of a group of "magpies" who stumble upon the USG Ishimura (the ship on which Dead Space takes place) and decide to move in and see what they can salvage. A couple of elements are added to the story that hold it a little above people-find-ship, people-die-on-ship, but not that far above.

As an art book, Salvage shines. As a graphic novel, less so. If you're a fan of the universe and are hungry for more, it's well worth a look, but is far from essential reading for anybody else.

Bitter Feast

2011-10-12T18:13:00.001+01:00

Most of the horror movies I've sat down to of late have been either classics or big-budget releases. It's been a while (for me, at least) since I last delved into lower budget fare, and I fell into the warm embrace of Bitter Feast with a smile on my face.

The movie, I suppose, falls into the camp of revenge flicks, but as most of those tend to deal with the redemption of rape victims, this somewhat more lighthearted venture makes an uncomfortable bedfellow. Telling the story of celebrity chef Peter Grey, who snaps when his career is destroyed by the scathing review of critic JT Franks, the movie opens with a hefty dose of originality.

People who we instantly dislike are quickly turned into objects of sympathy, and vice versa. This genuinely interesting character development combined with a spattering of wit keep the almost horror-free first act from dragging, and elevate it above the desperate vomiting of exposition so many similar films resort to.

When the torture does come into play, it does so with tongue firmly in-cheek. Franks' critical and cooking abilities are put to the test, with typically dire consequences should they fail him. If nothing else, Bitter Feast contains possible the most tense egg-frying scene ever to be filmed. And that's something to be proud of.

The score also shines, and manages to create an air of seriousness and tragedy even around such seemingly frivolous subject matter.

Where the whole thing regrettably begins to fall apart is with the third act. Here director/writer Joe Maggio falls back onto tried and tested horror tropes, and whilst they by no means ruin the movie they do lessen it. A clichéd ending to an otherwise original film is always disappointing.

Also, though Maggio does a fantastic job of keeping Grey relatable throughout - making him appear a sympathetic but clearly sick villain - the backstory we are fed on his childhood feels bolted on and unnecessary, adding little or nothing to the plot or the character.

Bitter Feast isn't heavy on scares, and considering it's basically a torture movie even the gore is fairly light. But it's dripping with charm, originality and, more than anything, is a fun ride.

London's Death Trap

2011-10-11T18:55:00.001+01:00

London's Death Trap is a live horror show in Waterloo, unassumingly sandwiched between the sea-life centre and the London Eye ticket office. Last weekend I braved the experience with a few friends...

Once the tickets were bought, we were posed (in typical tourist-baiting fashion) for a snapshot they could sell us after the show. The staff were funny and friendly, handing out various limbs and bloodied weapons to use as props and counting down with a slightly awkward "3... 2... 1... scream!"

After a quick run through the ground rules, the show began. We were led into a darkened laboratory and told the patients had escaped their cells. We needed to escape ourselves, before they could infect us...

I find that to enjoy yourself in these sorts of situations you have to forget about how ridiculous the whole thing is. Unless you genuinely suffer from a fear of the dark or confined places, it would be quite easy to simply stand around and drum your fingers as you're grabbed and lunged at. But why do that? Let yourself go, and jumpy - at times hilarious - fun is on its way.

I'm not going to walk you through the whole experience, because it's well worth your time to try it for yourself. I would point out that perhaps the price is too high, especially considering the length of time spent in the show (it can't have been more than ten minutes). Then again, vouchers are easy to come by, so full price admission is probably a rarity. Also, the finish was somewhat abrupt. It feels in need of a crescendo, rather than simply an end.

But despite these couple of complaints, it was a fun experience that's left me wanting to sample other similar offerings around London.

The Woman in Black

2011-10-10T20:13:00.001+01:00

I moved to London just over a month ago now, but only this weekend did I actually get a chance to go out and experience a bit of it. And quite an experience it was.

The Woman in Black is a play I've been wanting to see for a good few years now, and with the movie adaptation soon to be showing its face the feeling of urgency was growing. So with our 2-for-1 tickets in hand we made our way down to Fortune Theatre (which, like most other theatres in London, is located just off Covent Garden).

I'll be honest; theatre is just about the one avenue through which I'd not experienced horror, and as we perched in our budget seats (not recommended for those who suffer from vertigo) I wasn't quite sure what to expect. How would fear be approached in this setting? In an age of silver screen exorcisms, serial killers and demons of various shapes and sizes, can the theatre rustle up a genuine scare?

Well, judging by all the screaming and jumping the next two hours contained, yes. Most definitely.

The Woman in Black begins as Arthur Kipps seeks professional help in retelling his story; the story of what happened to him when, as a junior solicitor, he was sent away to Eel Marsh House to examine the papers of the recently deceased Mrs. Drablow. In this way, it manages to become something of meta-theatre, but without the pretension that could so easily engender. Instead it manages to celebrate the art whilst retaining a self-deprecating air.

The cast consists almost solely of the aforementioned Mr. Kipps and his hired help - the two of them using little more than a couple of wooden chairs and a wicker crate to take us through the tale of terror. They bring to life the characters with charm and style. And with the addition of their prized "recorded sound", transport you into a world of gothic horror, treacherous swamps and creaky old mansions.

The show is now in its 23rd year at the West End, and it's easy to see why. It presents a traditional ghost story in a charming, frightening and utterly absorbing manner, and I couldn't recommend it more highly.