ON TENDER HOOKS Review

Samuel Taylor Coleridge- poet extraordinaire, aesthetic philosopher and all round hero- in 1817 or thereabouts coined the phrase ‘A suspension of disbelief’, suggesting insofar that if a  writer could infuse a human interest in a fantastical tale, the reader would suspend all judgement and flow with the piece, not matter what was thrown at them- however fantastical or horrific.

Little did old Sam know, not only could his handy phrase make the leap from page to screen, from reader to viewer (who didn’t get emotionally cavalcaded by the infusion of human interest to an abandoned cowgirl doll in Toy Story 2?!); but that its phraseology would be so apropos with the act of forcing a steel hook through your kneecaps and suspending from it. Or rather, be so apropos to Kate Shenton’s feature directorial debut, the touching expose documentary on said act: ON TENDER HOOKS.

Yes, the white elephant in the room is that this film is about a select community of folk who voluntarily pierce their flesh with less-than-tender hooks and hang their entire bodily weight from these piercings. To the majority it’s shudder inducing material; and sadly to most of those majority it’s also enough of a white elephant to have them reaching for the remote. Case and point: in a scene set at a Body Modification convention, a man who looks remarkably like Charles Bronson with 85% tattoo coverage & 50+ piercings watches members of the team suspend and responds, when asked what he thinks of it, with: ‘that’s too extreme for me’. Suffice to say, it’s gnarly stuff.

But to reduce ON TENDER HOOKS to merely this shock act alone would be tantamount to reducing GONE WITH THE WIND to Nazis. For a feature whose runtime is 85% actual footage of piercing & suspension, none of it feels gratuitous; nothing is played for wanton gore glory. Rather, the documentary is an earnest and, appropriately, tender window into a world unseen; and one I’d readily encourage any of that aforementioned majority to see – white elephant be damned. What we are watching here is not a film about suspension, but a film about people that suspend. Not to say it’s a deep psychological case study into the existential reasons behind suspension, for that would be far too clinical, far too judging: ON TENDER HOOKS is simply a love letter to the diverse family of suspendees.

To briefly digress it’s glowing intentions & touch on the films visuals. Shot for a near minus budget, with a crew of one, shot on a camera and edited on a computer that is advertised on ITV, ON TENDER HOOKS is understandably unpolished and rough around the edges. Such, though both adds to the film’s charm and provides a sense of intimacy to the act that would otherwise be ruined with a large crew of multi-camera coverage and cologne-commercial editing.

Kate Shenton- director, cameramiss, interviewer, interviewee & editor – enters into the scene a suspending virgin, and as such the audience very much takes the journey with her. Aid to this empathy is the films remarkably verite fly-on-the-wall aesthetic. When Kate winces is when we really wince. And to not ruin the films transcendental climax, but wince she does.

Shenton has previously shown with fictional shorts BON APPETITE & GIMP (check them out, they’re boss) that she has a great knack for comedy and cinema. Here, she shows she’s also a dab hand at personal documentary; a good thing considering her next outing is a similar fly-on-the-wall portrait on a character from ON TENDER HOOKS adventures in full body modification, entitled MODIFY ME. Miss Shenton is certainly one to watch from all filmic angles, fictional & non.

Human suspension is actually an act not entirely new to film, seen in varying iterations in from Michael Crichton’s 1978 COMA to last year’s body mod’ sensation AMERICAN MARY and more closely in the documentary MODIFY, but none quite portray the human aspect of the act. None quite manage to make the audience do as Coleridge proposed and suspend their disbelief and become as totally involved in the characters they’re watching. ON TENDER HOOKS does.

7 torn Achilles heels / 10 drunk hot poker brandings

And that’s my two cents.

 

http://ontenderhooks.com/

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THE GUEST Review

Of all the short films I’ve seen this year- and believe me, there’s been many, few handled the perfect balance of style, substance & tease that so few shorts manage to grasp as effortlessly as Jovanka Vuckovic’s THE GUEST.

Existentialism can be seen as the beating heart of many a horror classic, from the gothic auteur of James’ seminal Turn of the Screw to the stark realism of JACOB’S LADDER. “Who, really, are we?”. That same beating heart resonates within THE GUEST, Vuckovic’s 3^rd time at the directing wheel, yet what those references manage to evoke over 200+ pages or 1 ½ hours, THE GUEST unravels in mere minutes- the age old adage that man’s greatest fear is what is inside his own head. Or is it? Such is the central dilemma to THE GUEST, and boy is it starkly terrifying in its raising of man’s fragility. Yet it never comes across as a preaching exercise, contrarily it raises more questions than it answer, and as such will likely stay with you long after the credits have rolled. It’s Kafkaesque dilemma, like a parasite burrowing into your brainstem.

That’s not to say all THE GUEST brings to the table is theoretical; possibly the only thing more terrifying than its concept is its ethereal imagery, which just like the existential problem will bury itself into your brainstem, as much for it’s beauty as its horror. These are quite simply images that, much like the film’s protagonist, you will not be able to remove from your memory. Special mention should be given to both Vuckovic for conceiving of such abstractly gorgeous tableaus but also cinematographer Ian Anderson for realising them so evocatively in an almost stroboscopic nightmare of beauty.

THE GUEST is a piece almost devoid of reviewability in analysis, thanks to its aforementioned existentialist nature; it’s not a case of ‘You’re best going in blind’, but rather I would be surprised if this film did not have a nonetheless profound but very individual impact on each of its audience members. It works on such a cerebral level, I feel it a disservice to dilvulge any more than I already have to you. Quite simply, seek it out at all costs.

A haunting and visually remarkable Faustian tale on its surface, with a transcendental beating heart within it; THE GUEST is more than welcome in my house.

8 blood mouthwashes / 10 talking arm chairs.

And that’s my two cents

COCKNEYS VS ZOMBIES Review

 

Matthias Hoene’s Lock Stock meets Shaun of the Dead mashup, Cockney’s vs Zombies is about as lemon-tart, Easter bunny & morning glory a film your going to get this year. Its a whole lot of James Gun.

Now, I will fully warn you, I cant fairly review this film. For I – and I hold my hands up here- am a James Moran enthusiast. A James Moran apologist. A James Moran Anonymous attender. To me, everything that guy pens, is utter golden; therefore Cockneys VS Zombies – Jame’s tied second feature length foray into the genre- was a dead cert win. Little did I realise it’d be as much of a win as it was. And, from the rowdy audience cheer alongs, that win was pretty much unanimous.

Cockney’s VS Zombies is about what would hap- fuck it, you’ve read the title, you can foresee what this film is about. Basically though, thanks to a building site cock up, zombies begin to spill out of a unearthed vault and starting with those pesky high-vis’s- tear their jolly way through the (un?)deserved population of the east of London. It’s down to a group of petty thief bank robbers- made up of a post-neurosurgery sociopath, a kick ass ex-Eastender & two meals on wheels layabouts (see why I love Mr Moran)- to fight off the hoards of the undead and save the residents of local old folks centre, Bow Bells Care Home; residents fronted, of course, by Sir Alan Ford. Could the premise get any better? A specially written Chaz & Dave song? Richard Briers having a race with a zombie? A walking frame mounted Uzi? Honor Blackman showing Goldfinger would have been a whole bunch better with a good few f-bombs? Yep, the whole thing from start to finish is a right fucking giraffe.

And for those who are cream crackered from horror-comedies being devoid of any horror, you’ll be happy to know Cockneys… brings the most gore seen in a hormedy since Evil Dead 2. As Moran put it in the films live introduction, I have no fucking idea how this is got rated a 15.  The film has so many head explosions that that scene in Scanners started to lose its potency. Its about as red as it gets.

It’s no Inland Empire, but director Matthias Hoene brings a nice aesthetic to the whole piece that imbues a very comic book feel, full of high energy cutting, dynamic framing and a tendency to really throw you into the action. Saying that, he also manages to give each character a fairly even amount of screen time & makes the whole piece feel like the ensemble it is, no short feat when you’ve got Mr Ford stealing every scene. Saying that though is not to detract from the other players, both Harry Treadaway, Rasmus Hardiker & Michelle Ryan prove why they’re some of the most used young actors in Britain; sparking genuinely interesting character nuances that stand out from the usual ensemble , they kick a lot of zombie ass.

There’s nothing smug here, nothing genre defying, and it really is the best example of ‘Is what it says on the tin’. Luckily, it’s more charming than a prince, gorier-than-an-abattoir, and funny as fuck. Moran’s done it again; but I could have told you that before hand.

I give Cockney’s VS Zombies, and I’m telling you the gods honest Babe Ruth.

7 trafalgar squares/ 10 square-fox and hare-lilo and stitch-abercrombie and fitch-abercrombie zombies

And that’s my two cents.

HATE CRIME Review

 

Censorship: a word that strikes many a fear and/or excitement into both film makers & fans alike; and a word I think, director James Cullen Bressack may too be facing very soon  with his sophomore feature HATE CRIME. I won’t pander you guys with a history of British Board of Film Classification’s loath of extremities in the horror genre, I’m sure you’ve all seen Jake West’s fascinating documentary “VIDEO NASTIES” (and if you haven’t, then stop reading now [don’t really] and check it out). But a recent tally of their lynch mobbings- starting with the refusal to classify an uncut version of A SERBIAN FILM, up to a similar ‘banning’ with HUMAN CENTIPEDE 2 and most recently THE BUNNY GAME- shows the good old BBFC still get their pristine white panties in a twist when it comes to showing the sexual gratification at violence. Now my personal opinion on this matter is another story for another day, but you can deduce it from the following two tenets. HATE CRIME features a heavy amount of content to chum the waters around the BBFC offices; and, to cut to the chase, I really quite liked HATE CRIME.

HATE CRIME depicts the less-than-cheery (understatement alert) events that unfold after a group of borderline personality disorder amygdala-cases invite themselves to the birthday party of the most ABC friendly American family you can imagine. It’s familiar ground for pretty much anyone that has seen more than 20 films in their life; but sometimes it’s that which is familiar that can surprise us the most.

At a paltry 20 years old, Bressack has a lot of experience under his belt; numerous short offerings and a theatrical release of his feature debut, times are a good for the young chap. Now with his second stab at pushing past the 60minute watermark, the director decided to eschew a safe stick-to-what-you-know follow up and gives us a bold, in your face & -as we’ve already touched on- nasty take on a swiftly stagnating subgenre: found footage. Now stop right there naysayer, I’ve heard aplenty of your I-don’t-need-another-Blair-shit-rehash, it’s a boring criticism and stands only to make you miss some of the best the genre has to recently offer. Rant over. Bressack doesn’t just use the found footage element as a cheap way to tell a story, rather I don’t believe any other shooting style would evoke such an powerful experience as the movie provides. By virtue of its medium, HATE CRIME is a very, *very* intense 75 minutes.  Played out almost in real-time, shot as if it was one take thanks to some clever ROPE-esque edit-masks, and bolstered by a improvisational dialogue heavy but nonetheless tight script, the movie is a perfect exercise in terrifying realism.

A terrifying realism whose ‘terrifying’ness is at both its peak & valley on the performances of its ensemble-of-unknowns cast. When they’re good, they’re startling. Yet when they’re bad, things get pretty trite pretty quick. Thankfully the latter case is in the minority (and only one moment- “my little brother, my little brother” for those that’ve seen it- comes to mind in retrospect), and it is much easier to conjure congratulations to mind than complaints. The masked thugs were suitably nasty & did their job aptly. The parents also, fulfil their purpose. Where the standouts really were for me were in the two teenage leads. Both Nicholas Clark (Tyler) & the wonderful pseudonymed Debbie Diesel (Lindsay) put on a gloriously intense performance rarely seen this side of snuff. Some say it’s easy to do the screaming role. Some say it’s easy to play the shellshocked victim. But when it’s played as well as Clark & Diesel do it, the hardness of a role becomes trivial. Particular kudos go to Clark for taking both one of the most insane scenes, and one of the most harrowing scenes and playing each with nuance & apposite horror. I can’t wait to see him in more roles. The future looks, hopefully, bright for both of these kids.

But quite possibly the most impressive thing about the movie, is its ability to take the viewer consistently by surprise. The first occurrence of this made this jaded reviewer physically gasp, pause the movie to gather thoughts, then giggle in actually being caught out. James Bressack’s sense of timing is a thing to behold, plot points that are harrowing in themselves are all the more terrifying when played so bluntly & off beat. Such a deft hand at syncopation makes me salivate at the possibility of what the director could do with a jump scare & a ghost flick. Yes, James, if you’re reading, that’s a hint.

HATE CRIME definitely isn’t a film everyone’s going to enjoy; for some it’ll be too intense, for others a little messy in its camera work, and for certain sensitive of mind folks- a tad on the offensive side. Yet for those than can overcome this, it’s a deftly paced, gruelling and controversial exercise in claustrophobia. Deliciously disturbing & verifiably verite, HATE CRIME is an indie gem any horror or thriller fan would be loath to miss.

7 duct tape / 10 pool tables

And that’s my two cents.

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