The home invasion and siege thriller sub-genres have proved highly adaptable. From “Rio Bravo” to “Assault on Precinct 13,” from “Night of the Living Dead” to “Panic Room,” the threat of intruders breaking into the home and trapping you inside plays into fear of the outside and the unknown, and disrupts the sanctity of the home space by turning it into a space of claustrophobia, threat and violence rather than security. 

In “By Night’s End,” co-writer and director Walker Whited presents a couple with a lot of baggage. Heather (Michelle Rose) and Mark (Kurt Yue) have recently moved to a small suburban bungalow, grieving after the death of their daughter Lilly. They are struggling financially, Mark being unemployed while Heather is concerned over the possible misdeeds of her family’s company. Furthermore, former sergeant Heather suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder following her tour in Iraq, and her unwillingness to speak about this is a prominent elephant in the room. It is hinted that she may have a drinking problem, but pleasingly this is not overstated. It’s also pleasing that they are an interracial couple, and this is never commented on, because why should it be? 

Much of the film is a two-hander between Mark and Heather, and they are a good pair to spend time with. The script as well as the largely subdued performances of the leads deftly balances the different factors that play into the drama. There is a logic that the events of a film’s narrative cover the most significant events in the characters’ lives, which makes it somewhat surprising to see characters who are not defined by one key event. Rather, Mark and Heather have a lot to deal with, and it is to the film’s credit that we see them work through these various issues – trauma, guilt, finance, greed, fear – both individually and together. And while their respective issues are certainly significant, a more pressing problem quite literally comes to their door. 

This pressing problem is largely represented by Moody (Michael Aaron Milligan), a black hat-wearing cocky gunman who knows a lot about the central couple, but not the exact whereabouts of a valuable item hidden within their house. This McGuffin propels the action, as first Parker (Carlos Aviles), then Moody and others come to search for it, placing Heather and Mark in increasing danger. Heather’s military background provides the resources for our heroes to fight back against their assailants, and much of the film’s enjoyment derives from the close quarters of the house being turned into a battleground (think domestic “Die Hard” and you’re on the right track). 

Major credit in this respect is due to production designer Ariel R. Kaplan, who successfully constructs a living room, kitchen, hallway, bedroom and two bathrooms, as well as a subterranean crawl space and an attic, as a series of increasingly threatening spaces. Within these spaces, Whited uses long tracking shots that express the enclosure of the house, both as invaders enter and as our heroes hide and survey the scene. Cinematographer Philip Wages moves from the sodium light of streetlamps to flat internal lighting, expressing the loss of distinction between inner and outer worlds. This is an important theme of the film: what are the benefits of building up walls when all they do is contain you? There are hints toward something beyond the home, suggesting some form of release from these otherwise enclosing walls, but notably these hints feel like a departure from the rest of the film. Better are the moments near the garden where Heather and Mark barely step off their back porch, while the meadow at the rear of their property is so near and yet so far. It is notable that the most open and indeed moving moments between Heather and Mark take place on this porch, as well as in the attic and the hallway, rather than the more obvious space of the bedroom or living room. 

Furthermore, the film’s treatment of the domestic space is interesting within wider discourses about the American home. There is an argument that the home is to be defended at all costs, justifying the use of violence to defend it. “By Night’s End” plays with this concept, seeing what could happen in the aftermath of such defence. And what happens when the property of home intersects with other property, as this causes the central conflict in the film? The film’s exploration of property, pasts and even the wish to be happy go far beyond the confines of the house, which increasingly becomes a pressure cooker for these tensions rather than a sanctuary. 

In case you’re worried that this all makes “By Night’s End” sound like a tedious chin-stroker, fear not, because within these wider areas for consideration, Whited delivers a cracking thriller of tension, jump scares and well-orchestrated set pieces. The film opens with a harried figure seeking shelter in a continuous take, and as mentioned long tracking shots help to escalate fear as they build towards release. This release does not come, causing the viewer’s knuckles to become a little whiter come. The violence is sporadic but nasty, one moment being the most sudden type of jump scare. As in the far higher budget “Tenet,” the most gripping sequence features hand-to-hand combat, improvised weapons and, once again, the danger of close quarters where walls, sinks and household objects become deadly weapons. There is even a western-style shoot out, the one point where the film shifts into stylised slo-mo action, making the intimate into something epic. 

Overall, “By Night’s End” is great fun. It offers tension and action, as well as heroes you can root for, villains to hiss at and wider issues to consider. If one were to sum up this film, it’s a home invasion thriller about marital difficulties. The central couple certainly have some issues to work through, and in some respects manage to do so as a team. “By Night’s End” is enjoyable for anyone, and might be especially fun for couples to watch together! 

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The Exception (Undtagelsen in its native Danish) is nicely described by its title. It is an exceptional film in the main setting of its drama. Its focus is on regular people, with nothing exceptional about them and yet in this they are exceptional. Additionally, the principal characters are women, which makes a nice change for a thriller as this genre typically focuses upon men. Working from a screenplay by Christian Torpe based on Christian Jungersen’s novel, director Jesper W. Nielsen crafts a tense, crawling thriller of toxic environments and growing paranoia.

The paranoia afflicts the four principal characters: Iben (Danica Curcic), Malene (Amanda Collin), Anne-Lise (Sidse Baett Knudsen) and Camilla (Lene Maria Christensen), the team at a research centre in Copenhagen that publishes on and archives material about genocides. All four can be described as ‘normal people’, and like normal people they have issues and problems. Iben suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder due to her experience as an aid worker, which led to her being held hostage in Kenya. Malene, despite her youth, has arthritis that limits her movements and makes her fear for her job and relationship. Speaking of relationships, Camilla has a chequered history, one character from which continues to haunt her. And Anne-Lise, slightly older and from seemingly greater wealth, has a problem with her colleagues, whom she believes ignore and exclude her.

The workplace scenario is likely relatable to anyone who has had difficulties with colleagues. There may be nothing overtly hateful or threatening, but feelings of isolation and exclusion still occur nonetheless. Tensions between the team escalate when some of them receive threatening e-mails, possibly but not definitely related to the publications of Iben and Malene. This is the film’s master stroke, as the lack of certainty around these hateful and violent messages leads to suspicion and accusations, first subtle and then less so.

Nielsen effectively conveys the paranoia of the central four, both through lingering close-ups on their faces which allow the actors to speak volumes with their eyes, and through breakdown in the reliability of what appears on screen. All the characters’ fantasies are seen, but not in a way that is clearly demarcated. Iben repeatedly sees a Kenyan child soldier, both in her apartment and at the research centre, and the unity of both the narrative and Sabine Hviid’s darkly beautiful production design is ruptured by flashbacks that intrude into the space around Iben. Camilla sees her former lover watching her as she and her husband go to bed, and while quick cuts make it clear that this is her fantasy, the haunting presence is nonetheless prominent for her and the viewer. Anne-Lise has a sudden and genuinely shocking outburst of violence, and the relief when it proves to be a fantasy is undermined by the relatability of the moment. If a viewer has ever wanted to punch a co-worker, shove a rude person off the train tracks or even stab someone who upset them, they will likely feel a discomfiting recognition in these characters.

This relatability of feelings we may feel shame over makes the film extremely human in its presentation of flawed people. The Exception’s gender politics are upfront by concentrating on women and treating that as normal (shouldn’t be exceptional, but it is). Women’s sexuality is neither strange nor taboo; family is not the be-all-end-all since Iben and Malene are both unmarried and show no interest in children; female friendship is emphasised but comes with problems, as does any type of relationship. As events develop, aggressions escalate from passive to micro to blatant. Loyalties shift as empathetic behaviour is read as betrayal and gnawing paranoia becomes outright suspicion. A recurring shot of the research centre shelves makes them increasingly claustrophobic while the apartments of Iben and Malene shift from spaces of safety to malevolence, the lighting contracting until laptops are both the source of light as well as a pit of fear. Terse work meetings are superseded by actual crimes, the tension ratcheting up ever higher during a home invasion. Along the way, excepts appear from Iben’s articles that analyse and offer explanations for genocide, from the psychological to the sociological. With insightful discussion juxtaposed with archive footage of historical atrocities, this research forms an intriguing parallel to the exploits of our protagonists, while references to Denmark’s political history as well as the Yugoslav Wars of the 1990s add further social and geopolitical dimensions. Are aggression and violence caused by mental disorders, social pressure, political expediency or something simpler? Are the e-mails the product of conscious malice or a divided personality? These questions persist throughout the film, uncertainty and ambiguity prevailing as the dominant moods. Very little is clarified, and eventual revelations could easily be self-fulfilled prophecies. This makes the film ever more unsettling, because what is more frightening than not knowing?

In its final act, the film slightly loses its way as organised crime become more than an implication, clarifications are provided and actual violence takes place. Then multiple endings start to pile up and it feels as though another edit might have been worthwhile. Despite this, the film concludes with pleasing ambiguity, the viewer still left uncertain about actually happened. Furthermore, it is a film that will linger in the mind, as the viewer wonders both what the truth was, and how they might react themselves in a comparable situation.  

This review contains a challenge of how many references can we include? On your marks, get set, make review go now!

The notion of space travel is inherently dangerous and terrifying, as noted by Karl Urban’s Leonard McCoy in Star Trek (2009). People crammed together in a mechanical device, dependent on fallible technology to protect them from a variety of grisly deaths. Throw something else into the midst, like a xenomorph (Alien), a lunatic (Sunshine), baboons (Ad Astra), a murderer (Jason X), a computer with a superiority complex (2001: A Space Odyssey) or the manifestation of a hell dimension (Event Horizon), and you have extra peril to get excited about. Pick your horror movie in space, and it’s pretty likely the creators of Anti-Life (also called Breach) are familiar with it.

Anti-Life begins in 2252, with Earth under evacuation for New Earth. The last ship to leave is the Hercules, commanded by Admiral Adams-King (Thomas Jane). Most of the passengers are placed in suspended animation while a small crew of custodians including security, medical and maintenance keep things ticking over. Despite advances in technology like a quantum drive (which is red to differentiate it from warp drive, very important), people still need to scrub toilets, and that’s the lot of our protagonist Noah (Cody Kearsley). Hero called Noah, aboard a ship that could be described as a sort of ark. Why does that sound familiar?

Noah has more to worry about than finding the right sort of bleach, although that is a concern that becomes a plot point. His partner Hayley (Kassandra Clementi) is aboard too but has a right to be, but he is a stowaway and therefore liable to be tossed out an airlock if discovered. Not to worry though, because a vicious shape shifting creature gives everyone bigger problems. As events escalate and body parts fly with increasing abandon, our ragtag bunch of heroes must use all their ingenuity and gut instinct, not to mention human compassion, to survive, not to mention bicker over who has more of a right to live, give orders, etc.

If Anti-Life sounds less than inspiring, that is because it is uninspired. As mentioned, you have likely seen most of the narrative and thematic tropes used by writers Edward Drake and Corey Large elsewhere. This means that the film offers a game of bingo. The Earth is ruined by humanity, like Blade Runner and Avatar. Our principal characters are on a spacecraft but emphatically ordinary, and they have to fight a monster, like Alien. When regular space janitors can’t handle it, call in the soldiers, who are just as out of their depth, like Aliens. People become infected and cannot be trusted, like The Thing. A big badly animated beastie proves more laughable than threatening, like The Mummy Returns. As crew members are infected, they become an agile ravenous horde like the remake of Dawn of the Dead, 28 Days Later…, Resident Evil or [insert zombie movie here]. Noah crawls around in air vents, again like Aliens but also similar to Die Hard, which may be no coincidence since Bruce Willis plays Clay, Noah’s immediate superior. It is revealed (to no great effect) that Clay has a military history, rather like Willis’ character Korben Dallas in The Fifth Element. There’s something of an Armageddon moment as well, and the final act recalls both 10 Cloverfield Lane and Ghosts of Mars.

Being derivative is not necessarily a problem, so long as the film has some measure of style or wit. Recent sci-fi action films with familiar tropes that are still engaging and imaginative include Edge of Tomorrow, Tenet and the extremely Alien-like Life. In each of these cases, the directors, cinematographers and editors invigorate familiar devices with visual invention, often drawing the viewer into the deadly scenarios of the characters. Sadly, director John Suits is no Christopher Nolan or Doug Liman, and the scenes aboard the Hercules are presented flatly and with noticeable repetition, pointing perhaps to the film’s limited budget. The design of the ship interiors is at least decent, David Dean Ebert and Melissa Woods creating an effective sense of claustrophobia and lived-in-ness. Their good work, however, is undermined by weird lighting choices, as director of photography Will Stone flips from yellow to washed out blue, often within the same space and for little discernible dramatic reason. As for the characters, while they are clichéd some are least well drawn. The performances are fine, although the names you know – Willis and Jane – have done far better work. Perhaps most egregious of all, the action sequences are pedestrian and the film’s overall pacing is sluggish, creating little sense of dynamism or tension. There is some fun to be had in playing spot the reference/homage/rip-off, but beyond that Anti-Life is turgid and at times painfully derivative drivel.
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If you were keeping score, there were 24 references. Thank you for playing! ​

A wonderful blend of genres, Adam Stovall’s debut, A Ghost Waits, takes a look at a traditional haunting but continues the story long after the point when you expect it to end. Jack (MacLeod Andrews) has been sent into a rental property to fix it up for the next tenants. But soon it becomes apparent he is not alone, and that the aforementioned supernatural presence (Natalie Walker) is setting out to get him to leave. But what happens when he chooses to stay?

For the most part this indie gem is a two hander and so much of what makes it an effective watch are the performances from this pair. Andrews’ turn is wonderful a hilarious performance, tinged with a heartbreaking sadness. Early on there are long sequences of Andrews alone as he interacts with the space around him and they are wonderful, lifting the film with warmth and sincerity. Walker has a more difficult task but as we spend time in the company of A Ghost Waits she becomes a likeable figure, the chemistry she has with Andrews making this film an achingly romantic watch. A Ghost Waits morphs from a ghost story into one about love. Love that stretches beyond the limitations of our mortal bodies.

There is a boldness to Stovall’s film, an ambition to not be restrained by any genre or what has come before. There is a beauty and lyricism here, from the dialogue spoken (Andrews and Stovall write with a story credit for Matt Taylor) to the music (composed by Mitch Bain and Margaret Darling) that bathes the film. The crisp, gorgeous look of the film from Michael C. Potter’s cinematography adds so much to A Ghost Wait’s personality, the choice to shoot in black-and-white fitting so neatly with the story being told.

And yet there is one aspect that stops me from calling this work a masterpiece. There is a choice made in the film’s last act that is sure to prove divisive and one that for this viewer underserved the tremendous work that has come before. Nevertheless A Ghost Waits is such a remarkable work that viewers will find so much to appreciate here no matter where they land on this particular moment.
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Adam Stovall’s piece is a fascinating watch, equal parts warm hug and melancholy-inducing deconstruction of loneliness. We’re all sure to be talking about this work long after its release, and the film firmly earns its place alongside some of the best ghost stories in the horror genre.

 For his feature debut, writer and director Keith Thomas crafts an unsettling chamber piece that unfolds across one night. It follows Yakov (Dave Davis), a man who is struggling with his new lifestyle. Having left his Orthodox Jewish community, he’s slowly adapting to things such as using a mobile phone, and speaking to women. Lacking in funds, he’s persuaded to sit vigil over a dead body, but finds himself facing a malevolent entity.

Over a haunting 89-minutes, we essentially get a one-man showcase for Dave Davis. In the central role of Yakov, he does fantastic work conveying the character’s inner pain, which has been eating away at him for so long. His experiences have worn him down, contributing to his loss of faith, and those effects are evident in Davis’ exceptional performance. All that’s left are feelings of grief and guilt, which he must face as they manifest over the night.

From early on, you get the feeling that something isn’t right. Maybe it’s the creaking noise from upstairs, or the grieving widow who disapproves of Yakov acting as shomer, but those can be explained away. Then there’s a reassuring phone call which slowly turns sinister, and ends up making your blood run cold. At another point, Yakov tries to do what audiences often recommend, and just leave the house, but it results in an unnerving scene that isn’t easily forgotten. As the feature moves into the third act, this is unfortunately the weakest portion of the story. Take the entity which haunts our lead, whose design is composed of interesting ideas which don’t translate as well to the screen. Still, this doesn’t diminish from the atmospheric film about our inner demons, and how they don’t have to be the end of us.
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Most importantly, this fantastically shows that religious horror doesn’t have to be limited to Christianity. One takes for granted how commonplace the utilisation of crosses, priests, and the bible have become, as they’re repeated ad nauseum while other religions become overshadowed. Hopefully, this is but the beginning of other faith groups getting their own slices of religious horror.

In the summer of 1945, a group of children are liberated from a Nazi concentration camp. In an abandoned mansion, a temporary orphanage is established to look after them, and try to regain what’s left of their childhoods. This isn’t an easy task, though, with their first meal seeing the children ravenously fighting over dog food. Things get worse when the mansion is surrounded by Alsatians, previously released by the SS, who have become feral. 

They may have escaped a horrific piece of human history, but these children aren’t out of the woods just yet. Their circumstances are rather dire, with the attack dogs threatening their lives, while the children struggle to ration, taking it in turns to test anything they find. They’re just trying to survive, but the children’s experiences may have left them a bit feral. At the same time, the dogs are starving, and just doing what they were trained to do. The question becomes, who are the real beasts?

Looking after the children is Hanka, who becomes their guardian, approaching the position with a level head. Alongside her is a child referred to as Kraut, who takes on a proactive role resembling a wannabe action hero. He willingly runs into dangerous scenarios, thinking firstly of his fellow survivors, but could benefit from considering his plans a bit more. Rounding out the main children is Władek, a boy that’s clearly warped by his experiences, and struggling to adapt back to normality. Each of the children are wonderfully portrayed, thanks to a young cast who tremendously bring them to life.
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It must be said, you never feel the children are at risk from the dogs. It’s only when adult elements are introduced that you can feel the danger, and those moments doesn’t last for long enough. In spite of this, we do encounter tense moments regularly, while the story unfolds at a measured pace. Writer and director Adrian Panek mixed together Lord of The Flies and Cujo, to deliver a most interesting final product.

​Where has Brea Grant been? The actor-turned-writer-and-director had possibly the best 2020 on the genre scene, writing the fascinating mystery-box thriller Lucky (coming soon from Shudder) and taking a leading role in the much-liked descent into obsession The Stylist (picked up by Arrow Video). But her most impressive work is her sophomore effort as a director, 12 Hour Shift, a charismatically woozy affair.

The drug-addled nurse Mandy (Angela Bettis) is set to work a double shift at a local hospital. But she has a few problems – she’s a kidney short thanks to her chaotic cousin (Chloe Farnworth) messing up their illegal organ harvest operation and a cop-hating criminal (David Arquette) has arrived in hospital that’s sure to be key later on in proceedings.

Grant’s film nicely ambles through its set-up, with all the pieces leisurely laid out as 12 Hour Shift’s atmosphere washes over the audience. Drenched in neon and capturing a midnight hour quality to it, this is a gorgeous work with imagery that lingers long after the credits (special mention to Matt Glass who takes on both the role of composer and cinematographer here). Grant (who also writes the script) smartly spends her opening act setting up a roster of interesting characters, each running on their own tangent that crossover and weave before smashing together in the last act. Bettis is sensational as Mandy, a bitter, spiky turn that approaches the escalating situation she is in with an incredulity that charms the audiences. Farnworth is wonderfully off-kilter, with her performance amplifying the film’s dream-like tone.  And Nikea Gamby-Turner does impressive work in a smaller part, gaining some of the film’s biggest laughs. 12 Hour Shift leaves such a mighty impression because it crafts complicated, interesting parts for a host of talented actresses.

It is also funny. Darkly humorous with moments of savage humour. Where the narrative is modest (remaining in one locale for much of the proceedings), there is the room for jokes and bizarre excursions to play out. Who knew illegally sourcing organs could be such fun? If there is a weakness here it is when the film feels the need to be pulled onto a more conventional route, particularly in the last act where Arquette comes in to play. I preferred the film when it was lethargic and anarchic, playing to its writer-director’s strengths.

But what a revelation this is for Grant, a work that calls to mind some of the finest genre directors of the 80s, but nevertheless charts a path uniquely its own. From a wonderfully constructed script to a roster of acting talent who embody their parts deliciously to a technical impressive work, modest in scope but rich in detail, everything clicks into place for this genre gem. Simply put, this critic loved 12 Hour Shift.

Occasionally a film will come along that will surprise and delight, and Will Jewell’s Concrete Plans is a little gem that genre fans should seek out. The narrative follows a quintet of builders as they set up to renovate a farmhouse. Tensions, fostered by class and status, simmer away between the workers and their employers (Kevin Gethrie’s wonderfully odious Simon certainly doesn’t help with the situation), fermented due to grim living arrangements. When the explosive release comes it is as impressive to watch as it is devesting.

With a prologue that shows the lethal devastation Concrete Plans will wind its way towards, Jewell’s film manages to build up a taut tension that is almost unbearable. The violent release this leads to is exceptional and there are several impressively blood-soaked moments in Concrete Plans’ second half. The film manages to maintain a degree of surprise for how this all goes down that this critic won’t ruin here. 

Part of the impact of the film’s third act comes from the time spent early on to build three-dimensional figures for the narrative to hang off. A fixture of both television and blockbusters (where he has popped up in minor roles in some of the biggest films of the late 90s and 00s) Steve Speirs excels here, effectively portraying a likeable figure put in a difficult position. Amber Rose Revah (a familiar face for fans of The Punisher series) impresses in a role that is better written then you might expect, whilst there is great work from the likes of Charley Palmer Rothwell, Chris Reilly and Goran Bogdan. A well-written script and a great ensemble takes Concrete Plans far. And also deserving of ample praise is cinematographer Rachel Clarke, who manages to find beauty in the grimly Welsh setting. Her work is a key component of why this film works as well as it does.

Concrete Plans bubbles away with interesting ideas, a tight little exploration of this corrupt little isle that slowly crushes its people. It is a shame that the last act stumbles slightly as the steam starts to run out and the release of tension becomes messier and, at times, more confused than it should. But Will Jewell’s latest is one to be sought out, a thriller that will surprise and enthrall its audience even if it leaves the viewer somewhat disheartened by the state of the world it so accurately captures. 

Occasionally a horror film comes along that, on paper, should be a barnstorming work. Let’s Scare Julie pitches itself as a seemingly single shot work with a set-up that should reap a rich genre bounty. Great films can come from a restrictive set-up and the one-shot film is not new. The likes of Son of Saul, 1917 and Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope have all been shot to look like they are a single take. German crime thriller Victoria even took proceedings a step further by actually shooting entirely from start to finish. The technique has its benefits, able to add immediacy and tension to the narrative, whilst covering up other flaws with a bravado technical flourish. So there is a version of Let’s Scare Julie to Death that excites audience with its skill on display. This version is not it.

Following a group of teen girls as they set out to prank a reclusive new neighbour, Let’s Scare Julie is a surburban horror that, if pitched right, could show the horror that surrounds us in our domesticity. We expect things to go wrong here and there is a tension that exists as we wait to see what the plot’s payoff will be. But the film struggles to craft interesting, realistic characters and instead ends up with some closer to caricature. The horror genre has a number of the finer representations of the American teen but more readily fails to understand its target audience and ends up talking down to them.

You can see where writer-director Jud Cremata is coming from in his approach and I applaud the ambition of his debut feature. I’d be interested in seeing where Cremata goes here because there is skill here. But on a technical level this film is surprisingly lacking, often confusingly shot and lit, and, as proceedings take on a seemingly more supernatural tone, is absent the scares needed to have an impact. The largest genre fingerprints on this film are the Paranormal Activity series, from the look of the film (it’s not found footage but Let’s Scare Julie to Death does have a handheld, digital quality to it) to the escalation of events in the second half and an ending that will surely prove divisive. But this is a work that suffers poorly when compared to the aforementioned franchise’s best.

I wanted to like Let’s Scare Julie to Death more and there are moments where the pieces fall into place. An exchange between characters will sing or the camera will land on an eerie shot. But for the most pass this is a work that is absent of likeable characters, effective scares or technical prowess to make its concept work.