Category Archives: ghosts

Return Home to Discover Dad’s An EVIL SOB! “The Abandoned” reviewed! (Unearthed Films / Limited-Edition Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

Don’t Be Left Behind. Get Your LE Blu-ray Copy of “The Abandoned” from Unearthed Films

Marie Jones never knew her parents.  Born in Russian, raised in the London, and now lives in the U.S., the low-budget movie producer receives news from a Russian estate notary providing her details on her murdered mother back in 1966 and her existence entitles her to the isolated family farm.  Unable to resist the urge to find out about her mysterious past, Marie travels to her parents’ dilapidated farm settled on an island encircled by a river.  There she meets Nicolai claiming to be her twin brother and that he also, after a similar call from the notary, felt pulled to their family home on the verge of their upcoming birthday, but they’re not totally alone.  Trapped on land that won’t allow them to leave, Marie and Nicolai run into their undead doppelgangers that impel them to dig into their family history and uncover the gruesome truth to what happened to their mother.  All the while, the house around them rewinds back in time before age and weather have taken a toll and the souls living in what was once a home return to bring the family back together again.

A past drawing near story stretching from 1966 and 2008, “The Abandoned” is a haunted house, supernatural, and circular tale that bears down a forlorn ancestry nightmare onto ensnared curious lineage wanderers, bringing them back into a vicious cycle of a family history that should have been left alone.  “Aftermath” and “Genesis” short film director Nacho Cerdá tries his hand at less necrophilia and gore for more daring, open-to-interpretation horror with the Karim Hussain (“Subconscious Cruelty”) original script with some rewrites and sprucing done by “Dust Devil” and “Hardware’s” Richard Stanley.  Filmed in Bulgaria to double as the scenic landscapes and to use the country’s looming, enveloping trees as another margining aspect of being trapped, “The Abandoned,” initially title as “The Bleeding Compass” on Hussain’s original script, is produced by Julio and Carlols Fernández, Kwesi Dickson, Stephen Margolis, and Alexander Metodiev under Castelao Producciones, Filmax International, and Filmstudio Bojana with Future Films’ Carola Ash and Albert Martinez Martin serving as associate producers.

“The Abandoned’s” modest budget regulates casting to, at that time, relative unknowns for the U.S. market but certainly not an experienced lot between English actress Anastasia Hille (“Snow White and the Huntsman,” “Martyrs Lane”) and Karel Roden (“Orphan,” “Hellboy’) playing reunited brother and sister Marie and Nicolai who have not been together since infancy.  Separated at the demise of their mother, Marie and Nicolai have undoubted hesitation to their relation, especially both are met by grisly versions of themselves in the old family homestead.  The double versions of themselves represent a dual life, one connected to their current path, and one connected to their past, and Hille and Roden play into that theme with fortitude and fear in how the past haunts their characters connected to a shadow world in a very “Silent Hill” way.   Hille brings complexity to Marie’s own troubled relation with her daughter, a character we don’t necessarily see physically on screen, but we understand through phone conversations and brief interactions with Uncle Nicolai that the foundation the mother-daughter relationship stands on is shaky and that pushes Marie to pursue the truth about her own mother to avoid that disconnection with her daughter.  For Nicolai, Roden instills a more tragically inclined façade without overcompensating with tremendous evidence in the loss of a woman he loved, aside from their matching tattoos, and his melancholic state is staid by the newfound opportunity to discover his past until unless it also becomes his downfall.  Again, we’re back to the past should stay dead, or in the past.  Hille and Roden underpin “The Abandoned” and its ghostly enigma with brief interjections of supporting ancillaries in Valentin Ganev, Carlos Reig-Plaza, Paraskeva Djukelova, and Marta Yaneva. 

“The Abandoned” is one of those circular narrative stories working toward a revelational end, one that likely won’t be pleasant.  An endless loop of trying to leave Marie and Nicolai’s childhood home only for them to be brought right back into the same room from which they started lend into a couple of preconceived notions of their ringlet wretchedness, both in circumstance and in life, and that being either they’re already dead and in a purgatory or their grieved existence has warped them into a psychological break when returning to a decaying land left in the memories of the heinous death of their mother.  Both theories incorporate a supernatural element where time reverses and, coinciding with the twins’ upcoming birthday, a clock ticks down that will bring the family whole again, this time in the afterlife if the unnatural powers to be have anything to say about it.  That’s the definitive beauty of “The Abandoned’s” open air forbidding allegories with the more than one interpretational rivulets spreading in different directions, shaped idiosyncratically by Marie or Nicolai’s life.  What helps the impervious fate outcome of the principals is that “The Abandoned” also has strong, poignant visuals as a foothold into keeping audiences intrigued on what could be a slippery slope of symbolism.  A mix of practical and composite effects, done amazingly through the editing process, sell duality on every layer as if we’re experiencing two worlds during a collision and waiting with anticipation for one to engulf the other. 

Unearthed Films brings “The Abandoned” home on a limited-edition Blu-ray home video. The AVC encoded, 1080p high-definition, BD50 capacity houses plenty of breathing room for the claustrophobia details to writhe within. Middle-to-higher contrast levels that throw out good shadows without being extremely inky, there’s spectrum discoloration from blotchy-banding, suggesting a good encoded transfer that deciphers more details rather than squeezing everything in under a lossy codec. Range of the darker graded feature does favor a generous bluish green for the interiors while natural light swarms and illuminates into the exteriors, brighten up Anatasia Hille’s already blonde enough hair to almost pure yellow. Fine details pervade over much of the duration, only relinquishing details for dark, cavernous moments to scare up apprehension levels. The English DTS-HD 5.1 and the PCM 2.0 give viewers lossless fidelity and flexibility with audio setups. I preferred the stereo with robust dual channel dialogue; however, the 5.1 showed signs of directional awareness – rustling of leaves, ghostly voices, etc. – through the back and side channels. Dialogue is prominent and clear on both audio options and free of intrusion and interference. English and Spanish subtitles are optionally available. Special features include an abundant of new material exclusively produced by and curated from Unearthed Films, including new, individual interviews with director Nacho Cerdá, screenwriter Karim Hussain, and screenwriter Richard Stanley; there are also new furnished for this release alternate endings that more so involve Marie’s daughter, deleted and extended scenes cut for timing and flow, and outtakes. Archived bonus content has a Making of featurette, location vision in “The Abandoned’s” den, a featurette of Nacho Cerdá: The Trail of Death that looks at the director’s earlier horror inspirations of his trilogy of death shorts, The Little Secrets of Nacho Cerdá goes further into the director’s insights for his varied take on “The Abandoned” story, Nacho Cerdá has a conversational horror discussion with friend Douglas Buck, director of 2006’s “Sisters,” promotional and storyboards gallery, trailers, and a BD-ROM storyboard collection. The limited-edition release has a lissome cardboard slipcover with original poster art of the blood-crying doll from “The Abandoned” on the front. Inside, a standard Blu-ray Amary case has the same cover art image that’s also pressed on the disc. There are no inserts included. The rated-R release has region A playback only and a runtime of 99 minutes.

Last Rites: A step back from the gore and revulsion, Nacho Cerdá is able to scare stiff with “The Abandoned,” a dead and buried family abstrusity squaring the score for lost time by reversing time to welcome back those left living, and Unearthed Films’ limited-edition release is the best version to date that deserves a warm homecoming for its icy, taciturn atmosphere.

Don’t Be Left Behind. Get Your LE Blu-ray Copy of “The Abandoned” from Unearthed Films

This One Has the EVIL Touch! “The Hand” reviewed! (Synergetic / DVD)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

“The Hand” Pops Onto DVD at Amazon! Click Here to Purchase.

After a night of heavy drinking, Bong-soo wakes up from a strange nightmare.  The nightmare continues when he habitually walks into the bathroom and discovers a grotesque hand sticking up and out of the toilet bowl.  The confused yet calm Bong-soo wakes his wife who passes out at the sight after the hand twitches right in front of them.  Bong-soo calls 911 to report the strange occurrence and when his residence’s security guard and the dispatched EMTs check out the scene and see his wife passed out on the floor and a supposed severed hand sticking out of the toilet, the unbelievable scenario spirals into suspicion and Bong-soo is detained for suspected gruesome acts of foul play, but when the hand violent moves again and the bathroom door suddenly becomes stuck, those left standing, out of the hand’s deadly reach, are left with only toiletries at their disposal to do battle against the a force their unable to flush.

Preying on one of the more irrational fears that something will slither up the toilet while you make the business, “The Hand” extends that fear with a supernatural startlement.  Shot in 2020 but released in 2023, “The Hand,” or “The Hand:  Attack of the Things” is to the degree of a ghostly-demonic thriller sprinkled with dry humor from South Korea by writer-director Choi Yun-ho, claustrophobically shot inside an apartment bathroom which, and let’s be being honest, is roomier than most bathrooms in two-story houses.  Toilet horror is a subgenre that’s not everyone’s cup of eau de toilette but has resiliently found a niche audience and continues to live quietly in the indie shadows, such as with Evan Jacob’s “Death Toilet” films, Matthew Mark Hunter’s “Killer Poop” franchise, and the Asian market, specifically, has an interest in potty horror-humor, “Zombie Ass:  Toilet of the Dead” instantly comes to mind.  However, the absurdity of these titles doesn’t infect Choi Yun-ho’s less feces-filled horror, focusing more on the curled, demonically-skinned hand from out of the toilet.  “The Hand” is a feature presented by Korea Creative Content Agency and Inoi Media and a production of Spooky House, and R202 studio.

With an intimate setting comes an intimate cast to do battle with the mysteriously unknown monstrous hand.  Lee Jae-won is up to the task, or, well, placidly taking in the situation with subtle caution, as the expressionless alcoholic husband Bong-soo.  The regular Korean television actor infiltrates into his first leading man feature, or perhaps barely a feature with a film runtime of under 60-minutes, tackling close-quarter dynamics and a computer-generated thing with finger fingers, elongated fingernails, and a reach that turns the already compact bathroom into practically the size of a coat closet.  Considering the mention of his drinking problem more than once, Bong-soo’s alcoholism isn’t one of the more centric elements, especially at the chagrin of his wife Joohee (Jeong Seo-ha) to create a dynamic hurdle to arc over.  Once the building security guard (Soo-ho Ahn) and 3-person 911 team, with Park Sang-wook portraying lead paramedic, the energy devolves to a humorous suspicion of Bong-soo and the pigeon-hearted presence of the lead paramedic as the two men ever so lightly buttheads in a confounding position and through the progression of the ordeal, the squabbling pair form along the way a bond out of insta-desperation.  When the wife finally revives, another breakthrough moment between Bong-soo and his wife becomes realized that they’ll never take each other for granted again as they do slow motion poses and battles with an army of apartment wall-protruding hands who carry a deadly touch.  The jagged line graph tone maintains a comedic constant right through the heart of “The Hand” that lets the characters sway freely in various complexions without jarring their principles too flippantly. 

The titular hand is a fully operational character in itself.  A complete CGI mockup straight from the backstory sewers of Hell, conceived from a threadbare anecdote of a woman found dead in a nearby sewer tunnel with her arm missing a few days prior told by the paramedic leader.  That arm, with gnarled hand attached, is thought and assumed to be the same wretched one sticking ominously straight up and out from the toilet bowl.  Texturally, the synthetically composited hand looks pretty darn good with barely a trace of smoothed over plastic-splash veneer.  These scenes are also intermixed with a rubber hand cast with obvious contrast against the CGI hand.  That is until the arm extends feet beyond its chamber pot dwelling to tightly grip unsuspecting prey, like a crocodile lying in wait.  When in more a realistic scale, the hand’s movements are tremendously naturally looking with the help of green-suited animator and between appearance and mobility, the captured result, though miniscule in size appropriate for the indie film, has realistic attraction that edges “The Hand” out of the absurdity of circumstances and into more thrilling territory while still focus lit by comedic lighting.  The characters themselves are the more farcical models in comparison with representatives often aloof or arrogantly confident with ostentation as terror responses straddling between nonsensical and pragmaticism.  

“The Hand” arrives onto DVD home video from Synergetic, presented in a widescreen 1.78:1 aspect ratio on a MPEG2 encoded, standard definition, DVD5.  Decoding at a fairly high compression rate of 7 to 8Mbps, image quality has a fair amount of detail and color saturation from off the lesser disc capacity.  Facial details can appear soft throughout, sometime blotchy or waxy that fuses the contours and skin without delineation, and the CGI hand, though textured nicely, can have an early day video game blockiness about it in a handful of scenes.  The surround locations, such as bathroom and apartment, are hue balanced and display distinct visual variation.  The Korean Dolby Digital 2.0 mix is the only audio option available that comes with burned in English subtitles.  Dialogue renders over clearly inside the natural digital recording and prominent amongst the rest of the mix, isolating the changing levels of inflections and tones of what the moment calls for.  The English subtitles synch consistently with the action, but there are spot grammatical errors.  Aside from the play and chapter menu selection on the static menu, there are no selectable bonus features.  The after credits contains how the CGI scenes are composited together so stay tuned after the movie.  The scroll-like artwork with a monstrous hand, illustrated with a mock age-fading, is really neat visually and well-done.  Inside the bendy Amary case is just the disc with the same artwork in concise form.  With the region free playback, the Synergetic release runs at 62 minutes and, assumingly, comes unrated, as the rating is not listed on the back cover.

Last Rites:  Comedy and horror create stationary white-knuckle tension in “The Hand” despite not reining in a tightfisted backstory on the hand itself which ultimately turns the five fingered paw into more of a marginal footnote. 

“The Hand” Pops Onto DVD at Amazon! Click Here to Purchase.

EVIL Says Talk to the Hand. “Talk to Me” reviewed! (Lionsgate / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

“Talk to Me” on Blu-ray/DVD/Digital!

The two-year anniversary of the death is a solemn time for Mia to mourn the hard loss of her beloved mother who took her own life, or at least that is what her father tells her.  Feeling uneasy by her father’s account that circulates doubt uncontrollably, Mia pries her way into her best friend Jade’s family for comfort and becomes equally amiably with Jade’s younger brother, Riley, as like another sister.  When social acquaintances post viral videos of peers supposedly being possessed by an embalmed hand of a psychic for party games, Mia is eager to participate.  All is fun and games with the dead inhabiting and speaking through the hand holder for a limited time until Riley’s spirt takes a violent turn, leaving the boy severely injured and in a comatose state after exhibiting Mia’s mother possessing him.  Obsessed to speak again with late mother, Mia uses the hand to talk to the dead and learns Riley’s soul is stuck on the other side and being tortured by the countless, malign spirits. 

Grief can be so powerfully self-destructive that holding an embalmed hand, becoming connected with the grotesque spirit, and letting the shadow world possess you can be addictive and even as far as a parlor game to pursue answers or a desperate release from suffering.  The 2022, breakout Australian production “Talk to Me” explores that forced hand of grief, literally, with a socially pressuring aspect that can be contagiously engrossing and collaterally harmful if unchecked.  The Southern Australian-born brothers Danny and Michael Philippou come out swinging on their debut feature-length film penned by Danny alongside Bill Hinzman based on a concept by “Bluey” executive producer of all people, Daley Pearson.  “Talk to Me” is a coproduction between The South Australian Corporation, Screen Australia, Head Gear Films, and Causeway Films with Christopher Seeto (“The Flood”), Samantha Jennings (“Cargo”), and Kristina Ceyton (“The Babadook”) producing.  The film is released theatrically by A24.

“Talk to Me” opening with a young, shoulder length haired man desperately searching for his younger brother through a sea of people at a house party.  The scene sets the film’s take-no-prisoners tone with begins with compassion as the older brother comes to the rescue of his disturbed, shirtless kin, trying to display the flashlight gleaming phone camera sharks who smell viral video blood in the water, when in a surprising turn of events the younger brother stabs his sibling before ramming the chef knife into his own skull.  “Talk to Me” segues into the cast of teenage characters, spanning the age spectrum of 14 to 20, letting us know right off the bat that youths are on the chopping block and no one will be safe.  The mostly untried cast pulls through with a trypanosome performance that gets under your skin, festering in its linger.  Sophie Wilde helms being the principal lead Mia still shell shocked by the sudden death of her twinning mother two years after later.  Suspicious of her father’s role in the death, Mia escapes and integrates herself into best friend Jade’s family, a role resting in between two uncomfortable rocks of being the new girl beside Mia’s onetime ex.  Alexandra Jensen as Jade floats carefully portraying Mia’s friend and a pursuant tiptoe toward the relationship with Daniel (Otis Dhanji) that passively irks Mia in the form of playful jokes, side glares, and inner demons becoming fruition ones expressing desires.  Sophie Wilde, on the other hand, spans the gamut with a flip of a switch soul spectrum polarized by spirit madness, grief over loss, and a fallback friendship.  When Wilde turns on the darkest light of possession, when her character lets the spirit into her body, the disheveled whole of Mia lives up to the actress’s surname becoming an uninhibited periapt for the spirit within that lusts over the youngest in the room, Riley (Joe Bird), for his childlike purity and when the spirits have control of over his soul in what is an orgasmic suffering that neither is parlous fun or exciting.  “Talk to Me’s” cast rounds out with Zoe Terakes, Chris Alosio, Marcus Johnson, Alexandria Steffensen, Ari McCarthy, and “Homeland’s” Miranda Otto. 

“Talk to Me” is an original byproduct stemmed from the cursed fetish genre.  The inexplicable mummified hand with unknown origins, thought to be once the hand of a medium, falls into the hands of a difference kind of representation.  Not to be bestowed conventional tropes like an inanimate object to be feared, the mirror in “Oculus” comes to mind or the cenobite unleashing puzzle box of “Hellraiser,” the persevered curled open hand doesn’t hold that sort of malevolent power, at first.  Despite its powerful connection to the purgatorial other side with frightening results of classic possession cases – levitation, catatonia, dissociative profanity and behavior, etc. –  these more-or-less new generational children treat something they don’t completely understand, such as ancient, mystical artifacts and in this case, human remains to be exact, without respect and humility, using the hand as if an additive drug, parlor game, or write to go viral amongst peers.  Directors Danny and Michael Philippou use the peer-pressuring viral video social commentary of their film as a sensationalized stern warning that has equal cause-and-effect results.  Ostentatiously showcasing more of the adolescent revelry spree rather than the mangled, decaying, and water-bloated entities in front of them or recklessly inhabiting their bodies once let corporeally inside.  For someone like the character Mia who continues to process close loss and has troubling thoughts, or maybe even delusions, regarding her father’s role in her mother’s untimely demise, she yearns for answers and when Mia receives a glimpse into what she believes is her kindred spirit mother through the vessel that is her friend Riely, aching impulses take over already crumbling judgements and she goes down the rabbit hole despite the consequences to herself, to her father, and to her adopted family.

Get a grip and take “Talk to Me’s” hand to experience the possessively powerful Philippou brothers’ debut film on a Lionsgate 2-disc Blu-ray/DVD/Digital release.  The AVC encoded, 1080p high-definition, BD50 and the MPEG-2 encoded, upscaled standard definition, DVD are presented in a 2.39:1 widescreen aspect ratio.  What’s achieved out of the Aaron McLisky’s through-the-looking-glass visual vignette is focus driven, claustrophobic, and engaging to be present of a reality teetering the line between two worlds.  Details inarguably shine, casting a great deal of deep shadows within the hard lighting to set the ominous tone.  Skin textures gleam within the light as well as coarse change with the vapid and pale makeup adjustments of the dead-entered body or even when we do brief see a condemned soul, the greatly applied contusions, decay, or bloating is reflected with great care from the infinite image detail.  The release has an English Dolby Atomos output reaching the difficult crevices of the inaudible dark holes and exposing them to immense carousal and haunting zeal that makes the experience more palpable. Dialogue renders nicely through albeit a heavy-handed score that relentlessly attempts to knock down the channel-leveled door and a strong Australian accent on most of the cast may sway those who don’t have a keen and distinct diverse ear away from the film or may find discerning a challenge to channel from beginning-to-end. While most of the camera’s frame stays in medium closeup to closeup, McLisky’s able to find depth where advantageous to bring a creep building dark cloud after Mia’s one minute over willing but felt forced possession participation. English SDH and Spanish subtitles are optionally available. Special features include an audio commentary with brothers Philippou, a featurette with the cast and crew in their experience and thoughts on the film, entitled In the Grip of Terror, deleted scenes, and theatrical trailer. Behind a rigid O-slipcover imaged with the centerpiece un-ensepulchered, plaster anoint, and sanskrit-esque-ladened hand upright and in the forefront with phone flashlights dully lit in the background. The typical Blu-ray snapper houses the same slipcover image slipped in between the plastic sheeting whilst the two discs are held on snapper locks on each side of the interior accompanied by an insert for the digital download. Both discs are pressed with the same font and coloring on in reverse with a baby blue stark against white. The 95-minute minute feature is region A locked and is rated R for strong bloody violence, some sexual material, and language. “Talk to Me” is utterly and terrifyingly fresh and freakish in more so with the naturality toward the touching and the facetious ways with an embalmed hand that’s a one-way personal radio to the dead as a means to be engaged in popular, peer-pressuring social activity and as something to prove with reckless naivety.

“Talk to Me” on Blu-ray/DVD/Digital!

The Stillness, the Quiet, and the Darkness evokes EVIL to Home In. “Skinamarink” reviewed! (Acorn Media International / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

The Kids Aren’t All Right in “Skinamarink” on Blu-ray!

A night of silence is disturbed when a young boy, Kevin, falls down the stairs of his two story home.  Rushed to the hospital to return to the same silence-soaked house, the restless boy and his sister Kaylee search for their dad who has suddenly vanished from his bedroom.  Doors, windows, and even the bathroom toilet has strangely disappeared right from sight.  Feeling scarred under the cover of isolated darkness, the siblings head downstairs to sleep on the couch softly lit b0 the fluorescent glow of the television set.  As they watch old cartoons, crayon, and build with large Legos, while catching a few ZZZs in between, strange noises resonate through the home, floor based objects are found stuck onto the walls and ceilings, and a twisted, omnipresent voice slips the siblings commands that exposes them the darkness from within the house.

Schismatically different from any other spine-taut chills ever experienced before, Kyle Edward Ball’s written-and-directed 2022 Shudder exclusive “Skinamarink” is no joyful and innocent children’s song in the filmmaker’s debut feature film.  Based and expanded upon Ball’s 2020 short film entitled “Heck,” viewers will be enveloped and swallowed by the very core of childhood fears that plays like a fever dream, or a distant nightmare, where faces are a blur, spatial direction is nothing more than theoretical concept, and the voices around us are distorted, muffled, and cold.  “Skinamarink” offers little warmth under constant blanket of darkness and leaves no room for hope when parents are removed from the picture.  What’s Ball leaves behind is primordial and innate terror that rarely can be seen straightforward and lucid.  The Canadian picture, which was filmed in Ball’s childhood home in Alberta, is a micro-budget production of ERO Picture Company, distributed by Bayview Entertainment, Shudder, and IFC Midnight, crowdfunded by Seed & Spark contributors and produced by “Texas Road” producer, Dylan Pearce.

Shot over the course of a week’s time, “Skinamarink” works more like CCTV footage recording the static surroundings within the scope of the lens.  The cast is small, rarely visible, and when visible, they are often obscured or never directly focused upon to mint atmospheric dread.  Two parents.  Two children.  A nuclear family becomes the objective of an omnipresent, ominous presence, but there are concerning questions about the integrity of the family that Ball incites with clues of broken household.  Father and mother briefly make an appearance, or with one of them just their voice, throughout the course of the night, restricted their attendance exclusively around the children’s perspective that makes viewers shrink and become engulfed in childish fears – sometimes they are adult fears as well – of the dark and of being separated from parents.  Lucas Paul and Dali Rose Tetreault as kids Kevin and Kaylee kill their seldomly seen performances with the patter of little feet running through the house and up-and-down stairs, their soft, angelic voices whispering to each other and calling out for their father, and when briefly in frame, or at least the back of their heads, they manage to complete the succinct shot just in the way Ball intends to secrete fear from our every pore amongst the quiet and stillness.  “Skinamarink” is not a character-driven film in the least as Ball cherishes a chilling atmospheric horror so father (Ross Paul, Lucas’s real life dad) and mother (Jamie Hill, “Grotesque”) receive what essentially is cameo roles to establish a feeling of lost when they’re gone and are perhaps the easiest roles the two actors have ever taken and turn out to be the most eerily effective on screen and over the audio track.

“Skinamarink” experiments more with surroundings, audio and visual senses, and common inborn anxieties rather than progressed by traditional methods of character dynamics and that is where the film will be conflict-ridden and divisive amongst the niche group of diehard horror fans.  General audiences will find “Skinamarink” to be a bore without much popcorn pageantry to keep short-attention spans entertained and a disembodied villain.  Slow burn horror usually has an elevated element to it and Kyle Edward Ball certainly incorporates an open for interpretation access door for the deep-dive genre conspiratorialists to work overtime on reasoning and explaining “Skinamarink” to the masses still trying to process what they just experienced themselves after watching the film.  Theories will run amok with the most prominent being Kevin’s fall that reduced him to a coma state and what we experience is all in Kevin’s conscious-cracked cerebrum trying attempting interpret, at best guess, the dissolution of mom and dad’s relationship.  Again, this is just a theory as Ball aims for ambiguity to fester fathomable, one-solution explanations.   Perhaps in a type of narrative the world is not ready for, but in my opinion, “Skinamarink” fills in what is void from modern day horror, a uniquely fresh and chance-taking pervasive eidolon scare package to revitalize genre numbness with slow burn phobias.

An original parapsychological paralyzer, “Skinamarink” arrives on a Blu-ray home video courtesy of Acorn Media International, the acquired UK distribution company of RLJ Entertainment.  Presented in a widescreen aspect ratio of 2.39:1, the AVC encoded BD25 sustains a purposefully intended lo-fi A/V feature, set to the date tune of 1995, much like when SOV quality films were abundantly popular because of their cost value and accessibility.  If you’re expecting depth of detail, you won’t get it from “Skinamarink’s” dense static approach that all but eliminates object definition.  Delineation is scarce to an effective scare tactic to which Ball tones the film; yet, the static is not, for lack of a better word, static as the current changes within the blips, increasing and decreasing visibility for desired poltergeist potency, if poltergeist is what we want to call it.  Set entirely in nighttime, sleepy home, the basking glow of tube television is the only semblance of color that emits a faint blue luminous while antiquated cartoons provide flat caricature coloring.  Certain scenes are shot in obvious night vision with the spherical focus that becomes unnatural in the frame, but there’s really nothing natural about Ball’s auteur style.  The lo-fi style choice continues into the English DTS-HD 5.1 surround mix that doesn’t exercise every channel.  Instead, we’re back to canned content with intentional hissing, popping, and distorted tracks.  Aside from a couple of innate audio recordings of a squeaking closet door, all the other ambient audio and dialogue is done after the fact in post-production to be rendered appropriately misshaped and muddled.  There’s also no score, retaining realism of a hushed house sound design to pay heed to soft footsteps and other delicate and mortifying milieu noises.  Depending on your audio setup, subtitles may be your friend here as the whispers are so low, they’re nearly inaudible.  There are a handful of scenes that have burned in English subtitles for that very reason, but full menu English captioning is available too for the minute amount of dialogue.  Special features only include an audio commentary track with the director and director of photography Jamie McRae.  Acorn Media’s release mirrors the U.S.’s RLJ Entertainment’s Blu-ray with the exception of a slightly thicker Blu-ray snapper. The front cover denotes essentially what to expect in the future, a low-resolution and a blue-toned, dark, inverted screenshot image of the young boy; this scene also translates to the disc art.  Encoded with a region B playback, “Skinamarink” comes UK certified 15 for strong horror and sustained threat in its 100-minute runtime.  Take my advice:  there’s nothing quite like “Skinamarink” outside the experimental gallimaufry but it’s sleepy time nature should not be viewed at the late-night weary hours or else it’ll lull you into a nightmare of your own.

The Kids Aren’t All Right in “Skinamarink” on Blu-ray!

Heart and Body Reunited Forges Immortal EVIL! “Witchtrap” reviewed! (MVD Visual / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

Get Caught in the “Witchtrap” on Blu-ray!

A motley crew of parapsychologists and private security are hired to investigate the haunted house of powerful warlock and accused serial killer Avery Lauter.  Before the graveyard side home can be turned into a themed Bed & Breakfast by Lauter’s inheriting next of kin, the team is brought in to eradicate the infamous house of any kind of malevolent spirits after the mysterious and gruesome death of a magician who agreed to stay at the house as a test run of the level of malignance.  When the investigators make contact with a confident and evil Lauter, the warlock tricks them by using the team’s physical medium to murder a far-too-inquisitive investigator one-by-one in order to finish a satanic ritual he started before his death that will make him immortal.  It’s up to non-believer, and wise-cracking, private detective Tony Vincente to make sense of the murders and put an end of Lauter’s reign of terror from beyond the grave before it’s too late.

A necromantically-charged slaughterhouse of a film, “Witchtrap” is the 1989 phantasmal thriller of the omnipresent, omni-powerful dead versus a group of clueless living always one-step behind in attempting to make sense of everything.  Also known as “The Haunted” or “The Presence,” the Kevin S. Tenney written-and-directed film succeeds the director’s cult classic “Night of the Demons” and Tenney’s debut film “Witchboard,” which is not a sequel to “Witchtrap” despite a similar title and the hiring of some of the same actors.  Shot in Fairfield, California on a 400K budget, the independence production showcases topnotch gore and pyro effects from makeup artist Judy Yonemoto (“Dance or Die,” “The Newlydeads”) and special effects supervisor Tassilo Baur (“House,” “DeepStar Six”) and is produced by Tenney alongside Daniel Duncan under Mentone Pictures; Duncan also produced Tenney’s “Brain Dead” later in the filmmaker’s career.  Cinema Plus, represented by executive producer Ryan Carroll, serves as the presenting company.

Tenney has been noted saying “Witchtrap” was a gift for the actors who have stuck with him over the years, playing pivotal parts in his student films that pole-vaulted his career into being a cult horror director.  “Witchtrap’s” leading man, James W. Quinn, has worked with Tenny since grade school and was cast in a principal role in “Witchboard” as well as in a minor role in “Night of the Demons.”  Quinn’s Tony Vincente is by far the best dialogue deliverer of the principal ensemble with a smartass ex-cop script that highlights Quinn to be the good guy but while being a complete jerk.  The rest of the cast is painfully flat, with little-to-no inflections, and a severe lack of dynamism or gesticulation that, despite how interesting their character backgrounds are, are just too dull with monotone script-reading.  “Night Visitor’s” Kathleen Bailey is likely the second best to liven up her character of Whitney O’Shea, the religious and reluctant physical medium with shark thrashing spams every time Avery Lauter channels her for to violently wipe out a parapsychologist team member, spearheaded by an eager ghost trapper Dr. Agnes Goldberg (Judy Tatum, “Witchboard”) and her mental medium husband Felix (Rob Zapple), and the accompanying private security forces that also include Vincente’s partner Levi Jackson (Clyde Talley II) and boss man Murphy (Jack W. Thompson).  Dangerous ambitions and irrational greed stir the pot between each of these groupings that side with personal stake over the safety of their existence that make for better character building underneath the rickety performance framing.  And, of course, we can’t neglect mentioning Linnea Quigley bringing up the rear with her rear as the bleached blonde, cropped seater topped A/V technician that can capture ghosts with her ectoplasm detecting gear.  Quigley, and also Judy Tatum, provide a bit of T&A, especially Quigley with an eye-popping full frontal in the prime of her career.  The remaining cast includes Hal Havins (“Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama”) as the creepy groundskeeper and J.P. Luebsen (“Witchboard”) as the cap-wearing and wild-eyed bearded warlock Avery Lauter. 

Oddly enough, what makes “Witchrap” entertainingly great, is Tenney’s attractive and amusing dialogue.  Between the quips, banters, diatribes, and the depth conversations, Tenney formulates a dialogue that can match or even surpass the outstanding special effects that course through the narrative.  Without Vincente’s brutal mockery of the entire paranormal research and investigation scheme as well as an unmercifully, nonstop degrading position toward his contentious boss, left with only the tedious prosaic to hear, “Witchtrap” would be one of those great-gore, dull-dialogue features that force your hand to fast-forward to the good parts in order to not pass out asleep from the in between drag.  Instead, “Witchtrap” is 80’s cult-horror treasure, comfortably embedded somewhere between the cinematic Earth’s lithosphere and asthenosphere layers just waiting for someone to unearth and dust off its sheening crimson colored cabochon.  Definitely not elevated horror that makes one think about the auteur intended message, the feature remains true to Tenney’s previous like-mad credits with an outlandish and mortally fair game theurgy that’s surface-level eye candy and audibly dulcet, despite the audio recording snafu that sent the entire dialogue track to the post-production recording studio.  Though producers and marketing attempted to cash-in on “Witchboard’s” moderate success with a similar, familiar title, “The Haunted” and “The Presence” are no more than generic designation fodder that lacked tremendous flavor; “Witchtrap’s” a kitschy and blunt title that works and literally estimates what audiences should and will expect although Avery Lauter is a Warlock and not necessarily a witch per se. 

A part of the Eric Wilkinson’s throwback video club and Rewind Collection series from MVD Visual, “Witchtrap” arrives a fully restored, high-definition Blu-ray, presented on an AVE encoded, 1080p, BD50 and in a widescreen 1.85:1 aspect ratio.  This transfer essentially mirrors the Vinegar Syndrome release a few years back that had reinstated many of the MPAA cuts the general public hasn’t laid eyes for nearly 30 years until 2016.  Picture quality retains a fresh, renewed look without compromising the natural characteristics, such as grain, of the 35 mm celluloid.  There are sporadic scenes that slip due to generational loss but, for the most part, a solid 2K scan restoration of the interpositive. The English LPCM 2.0 mono track is post-production concomitant due to an inexperienced sound mixer that resulted overbearing hum throughout the dialogue. ADR was introduced in post subsequently diminishing depth and creating an artificial sounding mix with a silver lining being a near perfect match for actor emotionality, inflections, and synchronization. Optional English subtitles are available. Bonus material includes a commentary track with director Kevin Tenney, producer Dan Duncan, Cinematographer Tom Jewett, and actor Hal Havins. Also included are interviews with Kevin Tenney, Linnea Quigley, Tom Jewett, and Tassilo Baur who more-or-less say a lot of the same retrospective accounts regarding “Witchtrap’s” sound issues, pranks on Kevin Tenny, cheap film hints outside of L.A., and how constrained the budget was. This release also comes with the edited VHS version at 92-minutes, same as the Blu-ray, a photo gallery, and the original trailer. Physical features include a sweet throwback cardboard O-Slipcover of the original poster compressed inside a 1-inch, matte red border that’s back and front. The O-slip covers a clear Blu-ray case that holds a reversible Rewind Collection cover art that’s roughly the same as slipcover poster art with cropped out credits for a vivid red filled, white-lined title. On the other side of the cover is alternative European cover art of a puffy white cloud merged with a demonic face hovering over a white picket fenced house, reminiscent of the MGM “Return of the Living Dead” or the original Columbia “Fright Night” DVD covers. Inside the case is a folded mini-poster of the factory-wrapped front cover. MVD’s release is rated R and comes region free. “Witchtrap” epitomizes restless ghost syndrome with a head coup de grace motif and is a seance that conjures potent witty dialogue to hoist Kevin Tenney’s third feature up to another plane of existence.

Get Caught in the “Witchtrap” on Blu-ray!