Celebrated film critic Roger Ebert once described movies as “the most powerful empathy machine”, allowing you to walk in somebody else’s shoes, no matter how different they may be to you. Over this 77-minute runtime, viewers are put into one of the most hellish scenarios known to humankind; working in retail.

The story unfolds within a single store, Canadian Cotton Clothiers. With a sleek interior design, it resembles an Apple Store, complete with their own mythologised Steve Jobs figure. Everybody puts on a happy-go-lucky façade for the customers, but it masks how miserable they are. The employees may not be menaced by a dream-stalking murderer, or a machete-wielding superhuman, but the toll is clearly being taken on them. Let’s see Freddy or Jason take a berating from their boss, or temper their tone with irritating customers.

Working a late shift, the employees are preparing for ‘Monday Madness’, which will unveil their eagerly awaited line of designer jeans. Known as Super Shapers, this range of thermally activated denim adapts to any body size. Unfortunately, one pair has been accidentally soaked in blood, and goes on a vicious rampage.

Our entry point into the store is Libby, the newest employee eager to start her job. Capturing the character’s idealistic nature, Romane Denis is a likeable presence in the lead role. When she talks about her new employers making the world a better place, you believe this is how Libby actually feels. When the story turns grisly, her optimism is challenged, and one wishes she was a more proactive force, rather than reacting to whatever she discovers. Not helping the matters is Greg, her store manager. He’s single-minded in his aspirations, wanting to ascend to the regional manager position, whatever it takes. This makes for an utterly contemptable character, with the intensity captured well in Brett Donahue’s performance.

Above all, you must be wondering how well the killer jeans aspect is handled. It begins with some employees finding the design alluring, to the point they’re compelled to try out this hot new item. Once they have the Super Shapers on, the moment of realisation comes too late. It never gets old seeing this piece of clothing commit cold-blooded murder, mixing up the kills, to ensure the idea doesn’t get stale. There’s no question about it, director Elza Kephart is aware of the ridiculous scenario. Why else would she have a scene of the Jeans menacingly roaring?

Viewers get exactly what’s expected from the fun premise, played out in gruesome ways, but there’s a surprising element of social relevance within. The screenplay, which Kephart has co-written with Patricia Gomez, carries an emotional backstory relating to the ruthless nature of big corporations. The jeans may be out for blood, but Canadian Cotton Clothiers got their hands soaked in it first. This is a tale about stolen lives, and the blind eye turned to them, all for the sake of designer items.
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We regularly see the slogan of this big company, “Make A Better Tomorrow Today”, and it highlights the hypocrisy in these businesses making such large statements, only to fail on following through with it. It’s a reflection of how corporations brandish Pride flags on their logos, or their social media channels say “Black Lives Matter”, and then consider their empty statement to be good enough. It’s a powerful indictment, whose existence is a surprise within this ridiculous premise. Thank goodness for it being nestled within, ensuring there’s more to this film than just the wacky-sounding logline.

It can be tricky to get the balance right with a horror comedy. For every Shaun of the Dead there’s a Lesbian Vampire Killer. So, it is great to find a new entry in this genre that manages to carve out its own path and end up a fabulous watch. Two Heads Creek is a big, bloody delight, one that has oodles of fun with its concept. A first half that neatly balances laughs with a growing sense of unease gives way to a last act that amps up the bloody violence (with a delightfully bonkers music number to separate the film’s two halves), all while making some effective points about the world we live in.

With the death of the family matriarch, twins Norman and Annabelle learn they are in fact adopted and their birth mother is alive down under. They decide to pack it in in post-Brexit Britain and fly across the world to a small town in the middle of Australia. But what they find there is a place with some strange locals and a terrible secret.

As well as writing the smart, laugh packed script (and Two Heads Creek is often uproariously funny), Jordan Waller takes on the role of one of the twins and plays his part well, handling the more dramatic moments as effectively as well as the more gonzo set pieces. But the film is neatly stolen by his on screen sister, played by Kathryn Wilder. Wilder is a fabulous comedic presence and her line delivery is impeccable here, bringing warmth and energy to a potential dislikeable role. There is effective support from the likes of Kerry Armstrong, Stephen Hunter and Helen Dallimore, with Two Heads Creek finding space in its brisk running time to give them moments to shine.

The cast are well-marshalled by director Jesse O’Brien (Arrowhead) who manages to keep proceedings pacy, making some good creative choices that enhances the film, leading to some exceptional set pieces. There is a warmth here that manages to offset some of the harsher satire that comes from the film’s targets. Two Heads Creek comes with a big goofy smile on its face, be it in the takedown of racist attitudes that exist both here and in Australia or when it trots out another high-quality bloody effect (and the effect work is strong here).
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Two Heads Creek is the kind-of film that manages to lift your spirits whilst making you wince at the extraordinary violence on screen. Thanks to several exceptional turns and a sharply written script it manages to successfully thread the needle of horror comedy that so rarely happens in the genre.

The horror genre is one that feels geared towards an affective reappraisal and throughout its history many films have broken down and remade the tropes of particular subgenres. White Zombie is a dramatically different films to Night of the Living Dead, which is dramatically different from Train to Busan. Therefore there is room for a film like Rose: A Love Story, a novel if not always successful entry into a subgenre that feels like a spoiler to reveal here. It follows a couple who live a secluded life and grapple with a mysterious illness that may even have supernatural qualities.

One of the strengths of Rose: A Love Story are the cast who each give compelling performances. Although you’d expect the focus to be on Sophie Rundle’s titular character, the film mostly belongs to writer Matt Stokoe, who takes on the role of her husband. The film follows him on his day-to-day business and Stokoe brings a brooding quality to his part. It is a shame that the script never finds a way to properly concentrate on Rundle’s character as she is great here, giving a heart breaking turn that you really feel should have received more screen time. As a late entry to the story Olive Gray nevertheless leaves an impression, even if her part isn’t given the space to properly expand on an engaging first impression.

But really the cast are fighting against a script that wilfully pulls away from offering material, all in the pursuit of hiding the subgenre the film is part of. The first act is a moodily enjoyable affair and there is an admirable distancing going on, where audiences are drawn in trying to understand what exactly is going on here. But this sense of mystery soon sours as we wait and wait and wait for something to happen. And when the reveal comes of what is actually going on, very late in the film, it’ll be a crossroad for those watching. You’ll either go with the film or, as in my case, you’ll be left exasperated by the time spent to reach the climax.

Director Jennifer Sheridan (making her feature debut here) shows a keen eye in creating a mood for Rose: A Love Story and there is some interesting world building going on here. Martyna Knitter’s cinematography even manages a well-mounted sheen, particularly in some of the night-time sequences. The problem, though, lies in a focusing of the film. For all the technical quality brought behind-the-scenes, it all feels moot when the film doesn’t do justice to its eponymous would-be focal point, a deficit that begins at a script level and bleeds out.
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You want Rose: A Love Story to be better. You want it to grip more and be a more engaging reappraisal of the horror genre. But it really left this viewer frustrated and, in its climax, irritated. There is talent to be found here but it is not served by a creative choice early on that breaks the film. Add to this an approach to the genre that is not as innovative as the film thinks it is and Rose: A Love Story left this viewer utterly frustrated. ​

Location can lend a lot to a horror film. Part of the effect of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre is the decaying house it takes place in. The prowling camera captures something of the uncanny in The Shining’s Overlook Hotel. And the folk horror The Wicker Man couldn’t have been filmed anywhere but the Dumfries and Galloway region. So it is with the feature debut of the Watts Brothers Playhouse, a horror that gains much from its fabulous setting of a remote Scottish castle, well-captured by Andy Toovey’s cinematography. 

The film follows a writer and his daughter as they move to this locale to help him work on his latest piece of literature. But there is a hidden trauma in its past that seeps in and begins to influence the pair, as well as the community they now inhabit.

Playhouse opens well, with a strong first act that effectively crafts a claustrophobic mood. The film spends the time establishing its characters and, initially seems to have a diverse ensemble with enough likeable elements to offset some of the more abrasive figures in the narrative. There is humour here early on as personalities clash and the Watts weave a crackingly tension into their film as mystery builds and a duplicity exists between a range of characters. Early on this feels like it may be an exceptional horror film.

Unfortunately things become increasingly muddy as Playhouse struggles to find a path to its conclusion. Grace Courtney is outstanding as the moody teen daughter, with a great taut chemistry with William Holstead (who plays the writer at the centre of the film). Regrettably Courney’s part recedes in the second half before mostly disappearing from proceedings, with the film instead focusing on Holstead’s character. Holstead plays the rather dislikeable writer well but without a more human centre the film feels a bit lost and our interests begin to wane.

There are good supporting turns from Helen Mackay and James Rottger and the film finds some interesting material in exploring generational trauma, both immediate and more ancient. But the horror here doesn’t quite live up to the potential of the locale or the effective first act. The climax reaches an interesting point but the journey there is bumpier then you’d like. But still this shows potential in the Watts Brothers and I’d be intrigued to see what they come up with next. Playhouse doesn’t always work but it makes for a fascinating genre calling card.

October is very much the month when Shudder shines. And one of its new additions is The Cleansing Hour, a fun horror about an internet hoax that gets real. The story begins with the end of the previous episode of a webcast reality show (sharing a name with the film) before pulling out to show the artifice around it. We meet Max and Drew, photogenic ‘priest’ and behind-the-scenes technical wizard respectively, who have run their YouTube channel for years and are constantly chasing a social media hit. This comes in the form of their latest ‘exorcism’ which turns all too real as a demon gets involved in the fun.

It’s best to not take The Cleansing Hour too seriously. It’s a big, silly horror that will fall apart if you put too much scrutiny on it. This is a film that should probably be best enjoyed with a few drinks in you and will hopefully leave you with a broad smile on your, satisfied with what it has to offer. But the makers are committed to the bit and do at least make a few novel points about the artifice that comes with our virtual world. Maybe not as affectively as something like Death of a Vlogger, but as proceedings escalate you feel the conflict between our modern world and a more ancient one. Perhaps there is something there that all of virtual thrills can’t hide.

The Cleansing Hour is at its best when its being inventively violent with just enough of a nasty bite to overcome the gloss of its cinematography or its, at times, exuberant editing. It may not chill you to the bone but it does come with enough jump scares to satisfy genre hounds. Having directed a combination of shorts and anthology segments Damien LeVeck uses all the tricks at his disposal to elevate his feature debut. From effective CGI to cutaways to the stream’s viewers, LeVeck’s film builds a world around its main studio setting. The script (co-written with Aaron Horwitz) may have a number of lines that clunk but it is at least smarter and more expansive then you’d expect for the story.

There are effective turns from Ryan Guzman (Max) and Kyle Gallner (Drew) who are both compelling in their respective roles, even if they feel somewhat underwritten. It is Alix Angelis as the possessed victim at the centre of the film that gives the most impressive turn, as her body contorts and almost erupts with the demon that is inside here. Angelis plays the part perfectly, even managing moments of sympathy for her character.

Shudder is having a cracking year of new releases and if The Cleansing Hour doesn’t quite match their other interaction with a demon (what does match Host?) it at the very least is a fun ride that just about justifies the subscription cost.

Cinema can often be a platform to interpret and make sense of the trauma that many of us can face in our day-to-day life. Relic is a prime example of this, a horror whose dread and taut atmosphere comes from a real-world issue. Many families have faced dementia, seen loved ones shrivel away and be slowly lost to the illness, and this focus is what makes Natalie Erika James’ feature debut so compelling.

Three generations face the manifestation of dementia, as a matriarch’s disappearance draws her daughter and granddaughter to her secluded locale. When the aforementioned missing member of this family returns proceedings continue to spiral downwards, taking a devastating turn.

James shows an adept skill behind the camera as she teases out mystery and a sense of impending tragedy. This is an intimate affair, mostly contained in a familial home with a narrative that draws off the secrets contained there. Charlie Sarroff’s cinematography drenches the film in an affective gloom that marries well with Brian Reitzell’s atmospheric score. There is a grief that washes over the film, a loss that speaks to the lived-in experience that anyone has had as they face the gradual decline of those with dementia. 

The cast are all universally good, particularly our central trio (Emily Mortimer, Robyn Nevin, Bella Heathcote). James’ precision often limits the number of stand-out moments for this set, which feels an opportunity lost. But Relic isn’t that kind-of film. It feels too deliberate, too careful in its construction to have one performance dominate proceedings. There are moments where each of the cast stand out, but it all feels a part of what James’ direction is working towards.

If there is a weakness to Relic it is that it struggles to maintain the precision displayed during the first act. As the horror becomes more pronounced it can feel like the film gets a bit lost in its material. But it all works towards an effective climax and marks James as a talent to keep an eye on. It’s a sad, affecting piece that spoke to me far more than I expected, whose domestic horror feels close to home. This isn’t a horror that necessarily thrills or offers expected genre tropes. Instead its power comes, much like The Babadook, from exploring a topic born from a genuine grief. You won’t regret the journey but it may leave need of a stiff drink and a quiet moment alone to collect your thoughts.

It is admirable for any film to be made. The act of collecting cast and crew together to make something is such a challenge that any work should receive praise for that. Certainly this reviewer takes no glee when something he watches doesn’t land and any number of reasons can prevent a film from working for me. But very few films seemingly get everything wrong. Step forward Tokyo Home Stay Massacre.

What little narrative there is focuses on a trio of American students who travel to Japan and end up trapped and tortured by a vile family. And that’s about it.

Few films I’ve seen have been so incoherently constructed, so poorly made as this one. I’m almost impressed that everything seems to have gone wrong here. A terribly shot film, there’s bad CGI (never has CGI blood looked so bad and that is saying something), there’s shonky acting (no one comes close to good and so shall remain unnamed), there’s cheap practical effects. It’s all so unrelentingly terribly put together. No character is worth your time, no moment is interesting, none of the drama lands. It is a horror free of tension, atmosphere and, crucially, scares. The film lacks the vim-and-verve of better takes on this kind-of story and you will likely check out long before this film reaches its loathsome last act.

It is always great to see cultures crossover in cinema but not here. Neither an effective J-horror nor a particularly interesting tourist-trap genre piece, this film gives into the worst tropes of both American and Japanese cinema. You can’t even enjoy this in a so-bad-its-good kind of way as this film is mostly just incredibly dull as opposed to successfully bonkers or inventive in its naffness. 

What makes this such a painful film to review is that for many involved this is their first credit. The directors, writers and the main cast have no other credits to their name. I desperately wanted to find redeemable qualities to this film, something I could say that made the endurance worth the viewer’s time. A performance worth seeking out, some interesting directorial choices, a haunting score, a sequence or two that show promise. But there is nothing here. My only hope is that all involved used this as a good learning process and come back with something significantly better. Do not seek out Tokyo Home Stay Massacre. Please. You have been warned.