Reviews

"Gorilla Warfare: Battle of the Apes", the Polonia brothers' 2002 melding of the adventure and science fiction genres, is a tour-de-force of beefy comic book plotting and lean suspenseful thrills, clearly inspired by "Planet of the Apes" and "The World's Most Dangerous Game". From the outset, the film works almost as a spin-off of "Planet of the Apes" - only matted against the backdrop of space. Sometime in the near future (or in the deep past?) a supreme race of apes dominate the universe, waging wars amongst themselves on the various planets and in the stars. It's a primate ruled universe where the greatest source of revenue comes from the trade of human beings, which are bought and sold for money, slave labor or what have you.

During a routine pilgrimage, the crew of Ape Ship 7 (interestingly, that's the number of apes aboard) finds itself caught up in a violent battle with another team of apes hell bent on seizing their human cargo. While mired in the skirmish, the ship is thrown off course and into a corkscrew-like wormhole. Upon reaching the other side, the vessel crash lands on a nearby forested planet. The three humans on board, destined for slave labor, or, something much worse, in the case of the female, decide to make a break for freedom, blindly rushing off into the dense forest. The apes on board soon realize that the humans have escaped and immediately send out roving search parties to find and capture the humans.

Following the explosive first ten minutes, the film settles into a cat and mouse game as the apes doggedly pursue their human captors, while the escapees do everything in their power to allude them. The three humans, Baal, Femme and Lokar, are played by Brice Kennedy ("Hellgate: House That Screamed 2"), Kimberlee A. Gibson ("NightThirst") and Jeff Dylan Graham ("Malefic") -- all three of which have worked together on previous Polonia brothers films with varying results. "Gorilla Warfare: Battle of the Apes" allows all three of these actors a chance to excel in their very particularized roles.

Jeff Dylan Graham, an actor who has been used sparingly in other Polonia brothers movies, is finely given a chance to shine playing the contemptible Lokar. Rude and presumptuous, with his hair bleached blonde and unpleasant snarl, Lokar, unpleasant from the start, abandons his mates in favor of quick getaway. As is the tradition of other Polonia brothers movies, where the sense of morality is never skewed, his selfishness is repaid in kind.

Coming as a total surprise is the love story that develops between the remaining two characters, Baal (Brice Kennedy) and Femme (Kimberlee A. Gibson) as they attempt to survive in the new environment. In between standard action scenes, and some bizarre, sometimes comical dialogue, emerges a somewhat palpable if not outright sweet chemistry between Kennedy and Gibson.

The scenes between Jon McBride ("Cannibal Campout") and John Polonia ("Splatter Farm"), as the apes, who speak telepathically, come off as only somewhat thrilling, with each pursuing their captors for their own magnanimous reasons. One wants to change, the other wants to hold onto tradition, and it's predictable that they will come to blows over it, eventually. There is some comic, almost slapstick, activity back at the downed ship, as the apes monitor the events transpiring in the surrounding woods. It helps to lighten the mood, but it often comes at the expense of what could have been more character development between Gibson and Kennedy. The scenes between those two actors hint at a much better movie just wanting to get out. The scene where Gibson makes Kennedy swear an oath to kill her rather than let the apes breed with her, is a stand-out.

I noticed at least a few analogies drawn to the Bible, with Baal and Lokar representing, at least to me, Cain and Abel in the Garden of Eden. The film's biggest surprise, however, comes in the closing moments, with a revelation that is so totally unexpected that it forces the audience to reassess earlier scenes, placing them in certain juxtaposition to known scripture. A second viewing will be much different than the first, I assure you, as various perspectives will have shifted in the second go-round. Personally, I loved this revelation, and didn't see it coming even for a second.

The special effects, which are very good, are handled by two veteran filmmakers, Brett Piper ("They Bite") and Joe Castro ("Jackhammer Massacre"). Their unique FX contributions help give the film a real authentic quality, and very rarely are you taken out of the film to consider how awful this effect was or that effect was -- a detail that has hindered several previous Polonia brothers efforts. The cinematography, by the brothers and frequent co-conspirator Jon McBride, is handled with great sensitivity and care. In several scenes, especially in Gibson, Kennedy and Graham's, they utilize the "Blair Witch" style shaky-cam in order to infuse the audience in with their growing sense of hopelessness and desperation. By contrast, the camera-work involving the apes is much more stable and organized. One sequence I really enjoyed comes late in the film after Baal has apparently been shot. Watch as the camera moves in on Gibson with the revelation that Baal, the man she (and the audience) has grown to care for immensely, is dead. It's a terrific moment that best conveys the sense that everything has suddenly begun to spin out of control. It's definitely not what one comes to expect from the Polonia's who sometimes rely on the easiest shot possible in order to keep the production on schedule. It's truly superb.

Another enjoyable film from the team of Jon McBride and the Polonia brothers.

Ghost Lake is director Jay Woelfel's attempt to revisit the spook story of old. He doffs the customary practice of most modern horror, and the standardized contention that the telling of a situation (that can often be telegraphed a mile ahead) is much more coveted, than the telling of an actual story. This should bring a smile to the face of those who long for a return to the days of classic American film, where movies featured narratives which unfolded and developed, the way they were meant to.

Woelfel has toned down the non-linear, experimental edifice prevalent throughout his earlier film work, this time hoping to integrate a more modernized story concept. Not to say that Woelfel's fans will be disappointed, because they won't. The director's vision is still there, and still very clear. He remains the master at deploying an atmospheric amalgam of abstracted horror archetypes, including an evil little girl, zombies and a beautifully serene lake which, despite its tranquil visage, might just be the gateway to Hell.

Tatum Adair, in her first film role, plays Rebecca Haster, (a name Woelfel cleverly borrows from one of HP Lovecraft's literary works The Whisperer in Darkness), retreats to her parents abandoned cottage in the scenic upstate New York area. The cottage resides along a large lake in a little out-of-the-way community known as Rushford.

In the opening minutes of the film, Rebecca is revealed to be a deeply unsettled woman, who quietly blames herself for the accidental death of her parents. Her guilt-ridden conscience has begun to play havoc on her very soul, as she is constantly confronted by her deceased parents, who appear to her as chilling and accusatory ghostly apparitions. Feeling she is losing her mind, Rebecca withdraws emotionally from everyone and everything, eventually, packing up her things and leaving home. She seeks solace in the isolation that the small lakeside community seems to promise. Little does she know the secrets that the lake hides.

At first, the residents seem to be just the typical lot you might find inhabiting any rural community in any town in the world. Though, as the film progresses, things begin to take a on a much darker tone, and, to borrow a much used phrase; "Things are not what they seem to be." Almost right away, Rebecca begins to see and hear strange things, all of which seem to emanate from the surrounding lake. She notifies the local sheriff Dobbs, when a late night swim turns up a dead body. However, the subsequent recovery effort fails to turn up said body. Later, Rebecca has a run in a with a strange little girl in a library -- a little girl that nobody else can see. There is also a frightening boat accident involving a family, which again, Rebecca bares witness to. Like before, nobody else sees it, and no bodies turn up.

As with Woelfel's other films, ambiguity is constant, in that we are never sure whether Rebecca's paranoia about the various phenomenon is grounded in reality or a figment of her disturbed imagination. Midway into the film, the audience will be questioning whether or not Rebecca is simply going mad, or if these things are really happening. The story slowly descends into a whirlpool of paranoia and fear, as the main character attempts to discern what is really going on in the small town... and in her own mind.

Rebecca methodically begins to unravel the terrifying secrets of Rushford Lake and its surrounding region. Indeed, something is odd happening, including a slew of strange accidents, bizarre deaths and murders, dating back to fifty years along the lake. Adding to the confusion is chilling story of the lake itself, which sheriff Dobbs relates under a moonlit night. Apparently, in 1928, a Power Dam was constructed to back up the water and flood the local valley. When they did this, they submerged a small town in about forty feet of water. A few of the locals who were reluctant to leave, perished. Rebecca discovers that every thirteen years, on the thirteenth day of the month, since the lake was created, a person has died -- equal to the number of victims who perished when the small town was flooded out. With the recent unusual death of a fisherman, she discerns that the cycle should have ended, but strangely, something has gone awry.

There are mercurial alteration in mood and atmosphere in the film. There is also a constant and recognizable dualism at work, as the true motivations of the various characters become apparent as the film moves forward. Unlike most movies, where the bad guy and good guy are distinguishable from the opening frame, Ghost Lake doesn't give up the ghost (please, pardon the pun) until the final frame. Woelfel offers clues, but is smart enough to know that the best endings are the ones that you can't telegraph an hour ahead. The little girl, Azure Sky Decker, who Rebecca befriends during an early morning jog, might not be as sweet and innocent as she seems, or is she? The troubled guy, Stan James, played by Timothy Prindle, that Rebecca falls for after nearly killing him, seems to have her best intentions at heart, or does he? Like her, James is working through the tragic loss of a parent, but like all the other characters in the film, it's hard to decipher whether or not he's telling her the whole story, or why he is really helping her. Lastly, there's sheriff Dobbs, played by Gregory Lee Kenyon. Behind his doggedness and investigation, lurks another person, who seems to be hiding something, just one more thing in a town seemingly filled with deep dark secrets.

By combining mystery and a creepy atmosphere, Lake is sure to entertain those who love a good ghost story. I highly recommend!

Beyond Dreams Door was essentially the most important film in my young movie-watching life, and for good reason, as it represents everything a film should be - dynamic, experimental and most importantly, intelligent. It also yielded the notion, at least to me, that low-budget independent cinema was where the true passionate visionaries existed, people like Jay Woelfel.

Utilizing elements from popular culture and new wave French cinema and working with a limited budget and a mostly in experienced cast and crew, Jay Woelfel managed to craft a stylish cerebral film that dares to takes chances like few films before it were willing to do.

Bypassing the conventional formula exercised in most other horror films, Woelfel chooses to operate in a non-linear format (remember, this pre-dated Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs by a few years) while also utilizing Hitchcock's various laws of systematization, specifically the use of colors, and the lighting schemes of the various characters. Add to this various other subtle factors that fail to stand-out during the initial viewings, but become quite prominent the more the film is examined, and, in the end, what you are left with is an important film, that is essentially way way ahead of its time.

The movie concerns a shy Ohio Psychology student Benjamin Dobbs, played by Nick Baldasare, who finds himself plagued by a series of horrific inter-connecting nightmares, after he unknowingly agrees to be apart of a dream research experiment. Ben's initial sense that the dreams might have something to do with the untimely loss of his parents quickly fades as they become increasingly stranger and more terrifying. Unable to cope, Ben seeks help in the form of the various on-campus teachers. His psychology professor Dr. Noxx, played Norm Singer, is his first obvious choice, and Noxx easily embraces Ben's pleas for help as something real. After looking into it, the two come upon a notation in a book, and a case history of another man named D.F. White, that seems to point definitively to the existence of the very things Ben has been dreaming about. Ben quickly discovers the 'things' in the dream realm aren't happy with the sudden Earthbound knowledge of their reality, and quickly take it upon themselves to get the evidence back any way they can. Woelfel makes a point to not render any religious allusions, and the doorway, and what lies beyond, remains vague enough for the viewers to decide for themselves what 'the beyond' actually is.

As the film unfolds, we also note that the narrative changes hands, along with the usage of colorful composition, as Ben passes on knowledge of his curse to the various people he asks for help. The second person to get swallowed up in Ben's nightmares is a teaching assistant Eric Baxter, played by Rick Kesler, who early on is posed a question by Noxx about what he would do if confronted with a life or death question -- and through the course of the film, is allowed to truly answer it. Baxter's initial reasons for helping Ben, and his later insistence that "It's not my problem" point to a screenplay not constructed to fit a formula, rather, the real actions of a three dimensional character. Also aiding Ben on his quest for answers is D.F. White (Daniel White) who died nearly twenty years earlier, and appears to him in the form of a ghostly apparition, or guardian angel, as one friend in college put it. The enigmatic White offers up cryptic words of advice, while leading Ben through the land of the dead and into the proverbial "light".

Visually the film is stunning, and the usage of color as a means of depicting the various character's motivations, is amazing. Personally, it was the first time I had ever seen it used before in film. Woelfel's insistence on telling the story in a non-linear format means a lot of jumping around, back-tracking, and various other things that will make for fun multiple viewings. Woelfel also avoids spoon-feeding his audience. Rather than pointing out the obvious, he allows the viewer to make up their own mind about what they are seeing. In my opinion, the film is much more effective because of this fact. The musical score, also composed by Jay Woelfel, is very good as it helps to add some genuine atmosphere to the film.

A few people have complained that the acting was stiff, but I felt it fit perfectly with the tone of the film, which is easily one of the more somber pieces one is likely to see. The special effects were lacking for the most part, but that doesn't take anything away from the piece as it becomes abundantly clear that this film is not about the boogeyman-in-the-closet but rather the psychology behind the boogeyman-in-the-closet.

Beyond Dreams Door is a cult film that has earned its status. It garnered much discussion and many long debates from my various friends in college, each with a differing theory one what, or who, Benjamin Dobbs is, and what actually lied beyond 'The Beyond'. I personally believe that Beyond Dreams Door should be mandatory viewing by anyone with a true interest in film. I highly recommend it.

Low-budget film-making at its absolute best!

NightThirst creeps forth in a manner suggestive of the great horror films of old, opening on a cold October night as thunderstorm rolls into a small rural town. A tow-truck driver, Van Roth (Jon McBride), finds himself stuck in the middle of nowhere and resolves to hiking it out to the nearest house, through several miles of forest and at least one graveyard. At the same time, a gawky teenager, Jerome (Jeff Dylan Graham), rushes outside to lock up the garage as the big storm crashes overhead. Within minutes the stranded driver is knocking on Jerome's door asking to use his phone. Hesitant at first, and worried because he's the only person in his fairly isolated residence, Jerome reluctantly agrees to let the stranger in. While waiting for his ride, Van Roth decides to share some horror stories with his averse host, stories of the NightThirst - the craving for flesh and blood.

Reminiscent of George Romero's Creepshow in both style and editing, NightThirst features four random stories, each standing as an independent narrative, with only a momentary opening and closing wraparound segment (McBride and Graham) tying the picture together.

The first segment "Terror" feels almost uncharacteristic of something directed by the Polonia Brothers, in the sense that it is much slower paced and far more stylish than what I am accustomed to seeing from the Brothers. The segment concerns a young woman, Jenny Leighton, played by Holly Harrington (Johnny Be Good), who receives a strange letter from a rich local pharmaceutical mogul requesting her to visit his sprawling mansion in the hills. In return for her undertaking, she will receive 25,000 dollars. Jenny, of course, concludes that the offer is far to enticing to pass up. Sadly, her stay at the old mansion grows stranger and stranger by the day until Jenny deduces that something very evil is happening within the walls to which is she confined. Her bizarre first night, and the realization that she's suddenly pregnant, gives way to a very eerie ending. The sequence, which isn't all that bad, is helped along by a very creepy score from John Rayl.

The second segment "Tag" also feels like a departure for the Polonia's as it incorporates both humor and horror into a very effective, albeit, short segment. A direct nod to fans of H.P. Lovecraft, the Polonia's set this segment within the darkened halls of Miskatonic University. As a thunderstorm rages outside, a young medical student, played by Brice Kennedy, studies late into the night. While traveling the hallways looking for a toilet, he hears a strange growling noise coming from one of the rooms. He ventures inside only to find a cadaver, which not only growls but sits upright. Terrified, the student stumbles into the hall, and head long into a fellow scholar, played by Kimberlee Gibson, who convinces him that such things are customary with new cadavers. Or are they? The sequence has a very creepy feel that eventually turns the corner and heads in another direction. In fact, I almost got whiplash from how fast this segment switched gears, but, in the end, it worked for the better.

The third (and weakest) segment is "Demon Forest" as it is essentially a directionless, forgettable exercise that really goes nowhere. Bob Dennis plays a journalism student who decides to take a chance by heading out to the "haunted" black forest in order to take pictures. After parking off the side of the road, the aspiring photographer stumbles into the woods looking for anything out of the ordinary to shoot. Fleeting images of strange creatures flash across the screen as he journeys deeper and deeper into the ghostly woodland, unaware that he is being followed. The sequence, which is essentially a wonderful showcase for Brett Piper's creature FX, really doesn't work as whole because it is so underwritten. We don't know enough about Dennis' character to care if he lives or dies. Not lost on me was the Biblical nuance of the segment, and what the Polonia's were obviously going for when they conceived this idea, as the forest is evidently representative of Hell, and Dennis, as the proverbial sinner, who casts doubt, while playing on his fate, until the moment he grasps that the time for atonement has long passed.

The forth (and best) segment is "Christmas in July". I have to admit, this story I found exceptionally unsettling. It opens with a little girl (Courtney Polonia) playing in a sandbox in her backyard. Through the corner of her eye she notices a strange man augmented in a Santa Claus suit standing off in the woods behind her house. He appears to be holding an axe. Terrified, the little girl rushes inside to tell her brutish father, played by Mark Polonia. "Christmas is six months away. This is July," he barks, before sending her on her way. Back outside, she detects strange movement by the tool shed, and again, her pleas for help are ignored by her father. Later that evening, the girl awakens to find the deranged Santa Claus standing over her bed, a bloody axe braced over his shoulder. What happens next, and the strange twist ending is quite disturbing, if not, clever. Kudos to Jon McBride (in a dual role) for offering up the creepiest Santa Claus since Brandon Maggart in You Better Watch Out. Everything about this segment succeeds, from the music, to the acting, to the interesting story. Plus, it's genuinely scary from beginning to end.

In the end, all I can say is that I thoroughly enjoyed this horror anthology from the team of the Polonia Brothers and Jon McBride. I'll admit, it had its weak spots, but as a whole, it was an entertaining film.

The Polonia Brothers and Jon McBride are significant names in the b-movie universe and for good reason, their product is second to none. NightThirst is the perfect film for a cold dark night!

Quebec-born director Gilles Carle has never done much to impress me, so that's why, despite being nominated for at least one award, I really wasn't expecting much from his anomalous sex farce The Postmistress.

Set in the small rural town of Val Jacob, Quebec 1935, it concerns a community rallying together in an attempt to stop a government-backed Hydro-Electric project from going forward. When an affluent family, the Cunninghams, backed by political sponsorship reaching up as far as the Quebec Premier, look to push plans of starting up an electrical venture on the outskirts of the Val Jacob dam, the town's Postmistress, Rachel, played with a seductive magnetism by Chloe Sainte-Marie, resolves to unify the residents into a cohesive unit against them. An electrical engineer, Fernand Gautier (Nicolas Francois Riyes), determines that any escalation in the water level will most likely cause the outdated dam to give way, potentially causing a tragedy.

The problem I had with the film is that the plot, which is quite engaging, is pushed almost entirely into the background, allowing director Carle to focus pointlessly on his various one-dimensional characters and their sexual exploits. The characters, all of which lack any kind of real composition, seem motivated almost completely by their libido, and nothing else. I knew almost nothing about the characters when the film began, and even less when the film ended. Sadly, this is what is really bothersome about the picture, nobody really cares about anything or anybody... except themselves. If you're intrigued by sex however, then this might be the film for you because there's an abundance of it with this eccentric lot. First, there's the Mayor (Roger Giguere) who is cheating on his wife, Mrs. Mayor (Louise Forestier), as she is called, with his secretary Amelie (Michele Richard), who dresses up as a deer for at least one rendezvous in the woods. There's Cora (Marzia Bartolucci), Rachel's best friend, who is courted by Tonio (Alain Olivier Lapointe), a man as obsessed with his bag-pipes as he is with dressing in women's clothes. Finally, there's the Postmistress, Rachel, who spends the majority of the film stalking the engineer Fernand, including opening, and replying to, his mail and breaking into his motel room in the wee hours of the night. There's also Rachel's nine-year old brother Amedee (Steve Gendron), who is informed in the opening minutes of the film, that he has a detached retina and will eventually go blind. The bulk of his screen time is spent preparing for his impending blindness by wearing dark glasses and walking with a cane. He also seems to be present for a good majority of the sex and nudity, something I found myself having a real problem with. During the course of the film, this youngster, all of about eight years old during the time of production, is shown exposed breasts, takes a photograph of his naked sibling in a tub, reads the Kama Sutra, watches a couple copulating, spies on a naked woman across a field and much more. Exposing Gendron to such adult exposition left me wondering, exactly, what kind of point was director Carle making? The joke, if it is a joke, doesn't pan out because the audience knows the child is not blind, and most of the characters also know it too, so what's the point of it? Unpleasant, to say the least.

There were a couple of chuckles in the film, including a meeting between Algonkian Indians and the Quebec businessmen looking to set-up shop on the dam. Chloe Sainte-Marie, acting as the interpreter for the Algonkian and French speaking parties, offers her own hilarious slant on what the French businessmen are really offering with their sales pitch. Also, the cinematography by Rene Verzier is breathtaking. The gorgeous scenery around Saint-Narcisse, Quebec, where the film was lensed, was a real treat for the eyes.

A few laughs and some visual eye-candy are hardly enough to save the whole of the film. The director should have spent more time developing interesting characters, because without that you're left with nothing, and in the end, you feel cheated.

For myself, watching 25th Hour was sort-of like taking a palm reading. Noticing one line, representative of a life-path, stretches out long and far, while another line branches off and stops short in the middle of your palm. You question which life path will you take, and which are you currently on now. Are you one the short one or the long one? You question the various choices and decisions that you made in the past, and which life-line have those choices and decisions ultimately lead you down. In a round-about way, the three characters in Spike Lee's 25th Hour are struggling with these same kind of questions. Based on a novel by David Benioff, the film is essentially three people struggling with the choices that they have made in their past, and the choices they are to make in the future -- and which path will it ultimately lead them down.

Edward Norton stars as Monty Brogan, a man whose life decision, becoming a drug dealer, has left him facing a seven year prison term, "...with 84 days off with good behaviour." It's the morning before, and Monty has twenty-five hours left to examine his life, bond with his closest friends, say goodbye to family, find a home for his dog, and figure out a way to survive in the joint. At one point, Monty's friend refers to his incarceration, as "...going to hell and never coming back," and the audience gets the feeling that it's not just a coy metaphor. If Monty does survive his "time", he will most assuredly not be the person they once knew when he gets out.

Even though he has grown distant from them over the years, Monty chooses to spend his remaining hours with his closest friends from childhood, Jacob Elinsky (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and Frank Slaughtery (Barry Pepper). Socially and economically, these are two of the most dissimilar people one is likely to see spending time together in a film. Their only real connection is the deeply entrenched devotion they feel to their friend. Jacob is a nerdy English teacher, whose gift for the language, has done little for his social skills. His self-doubt and shame for being born wealthy has left him single, lonely and in a thankless job. He desperately yearns for one of his students, a beautiful and precocious seventeen year old, Mary D'Annunzio (Anna Paquin), but is afraid to act on it, fearful that such a decision will lead to him being fired from his job, or even worse, arrested. Frank, on the other hand, is on the opposite end of the character spectrum, he's a good-looking, rich Wall Street trader, who, unlike, his nebbish friend, has never had a problem with the ladies. Also unlike Jacob, Frank is much more forthright in his feelings about life, and his friend's impending incarceration, "He profited from other's misery and he deserves what he gets," he tells Jacob. Norton's character also has a girlfriend, Naturelle, played by Rosario Dawson, whom he believes might have been the one who sold him out to the police. There's also his father, played by Brian Cox, a retired fireman who owns a bar on Staten Island which caters primarily to fire fighters. Each of these people, in their own way, blames them self for what is happening to Monty.

The story propels forward when the three childhood friends gather in a nightclub, with Jacob's student, Mary, and Monty's girlfriend, Naturelle, tagging along. It is what happens in this club, on this night, that provides the core of the movie. The accusations that are made, the favor that is asked, the choices that are acted upon, and the truth that is revealed, will stay with these characters long after the 25th hour has widdled and gone away. Will these friends be willing to enact Doyle's Law, in a figurative sense, and save Monty Brogan, the symbolic beaten dog?

25th Hour is also memorable for grappling openly with the aftermath of September 11th. Lee skillfully immerses it into the subtext of the story. Referenced in pictures of fire fighters who lost their lives at the World Trade Center, which adorn the walls of the local sports bar and the uptown offices of the traders; to the mention of Bin Laden in a particularly biting commentary by Monty; to Frank Slaughtery's defiant refusal to move from his apartment, which sits overlooking the ruins of the Twin Towers. Director Spike Lee, never known for being subtle, thrusts these images, and his obvious anger about it, into the viewers lap and compels them to deal with it. Also memorable is the venomous diatribe by Norton into a bathroom mirror, where he verbally attacks every group in New York regardless of ethnicity, sexual preference or socioeconomic standing. Not even the church or JC himself, is safe from his tirade, which ends when Monty realizes the only person he has to blame for his predicament, is the one staring back at him in the mirror.

The whole film plays in a subdued, almost depressing, tone. There are no laughs to be had, no falsely engineered moments where the characters break bread, and cry, and get all remorseful -- none of that. We feel as Monty feels: perplexed, distressed, unsure of those things to come and angry for how he happened to arrive at this place, and moment, in his life -- his last 25 hours.

Terrified and huddled inside a small cabin, crypto zoologist Wayne Beaubier suddenly screams, "There's something in the window. There's something out there!" The terrifying climax of Among Us reads like the actual 1924 story of a group of loggers in Mount St. Helens, Washington, and is easily the most inventive, original, not to mention, researched, Bigfoot film I've ever had the pleasure of watching.

Among Us concerns an exploitation-film director named Billy D'Amato, played perfectly by Bob Dennis, who, after many years of making trashy Bigfoot/cannibal-alien movies, has a frightening run-in with an actual humanoid primate while scouting a movie location and finds himself re-evaluating the path his life has taken.

Energized by the encounter, D'Amato sets out to make a documentary about the real-life Bigfoot monster, but to do this he must re-connect with the various people he has exploited throughout his career, people who collaborated with D'Amato on his previous films but have came away feeling either used or mocked by his work. The first is Jennifer Dempsey, played by former Teen Angel star Hunter Austin, a former-friend that found her story of an encounter with Bigfoot turned into a trashy sexploitation feature. The other is a nerdy crypto zoologist, played by Jon McBride (in his most over-the-top performance to date) whose expertise in the field of zoology was exploited by D'Amato for his various creature features. Along for the ride is Billy's long-time cinematographer Ray Steele, played by a near pokerfaced John Polonia, who, to some extent, seems to represent the audience and is strangely one of the characters I felt most connected to throughout the film. Reluctantly, all agree to follow D'Amato one more time, sensing that he genuinely wants to set things right.

After trudging along in the first half, Among Us really picks up steam in the second as the group heads off into the deep woods, to the small isolated cabin where D'Amato had his eerie encounter with the monster. Utilizing the derelict lodge as a base of operations for which to shoot from, the group treks into the surrounding woods looking for anything that might hint at the existence of the ominous creature, with Wayne offering his own particular direct to camera addresses throughout. Interestingly, things take a turn for the weird as the group starts hearing and seeing things in the forest, things that can't be so easily dismissed as something natural.

Like a train collecting momentum, the film creeps towards a terrifying conclusion, as the strange growling noises in the night, the peculiar scratch marks on a nearby tree, and the odd rock formation out beside the cabin, all hint that they might be the ones being examined, and not the other way around.

Working off an intelligent, witty screenplay by John Oak Dalton, Among Us is undoubtedly Jon McBride and the Polonia brothers paramount film to date. Dalton's multi-layered script manages to not only pay homage to the various low-budget Sunn Classic documentaries, which inspired it, but it also, in a clever way, plays as a direct tribute to the life-work of the filmmakers involved in the production and the genre for which they've made a career. Billy D'Amato is clearly inspired by the three directors listed in the main credits, and D'Amato's Space Cannibals, is obviously a nod to such films as Feeders and Cannibal Campout. The factual details behind the reality of the Bigfoot creature, discussed throughout the film, points to a great deal of research by writer Dalton and helps set this apart from many other monster-in-the-woods features. The ending sequence, mentioned earlier, seems lifted almost forthright from actual Bigfoot lore.

Much has been said about the acting in the film, especially Jon McBride's wildly over-the-top performance as Wayne Beaubier, and the fact that it might have taken from away from the picture. I feel the opposite. I think it's one of the strengths of the picture, rather than a weakness, as it provides some genuine energy to the production that might have been lacking if he had played it straight. Hunter Austin, John Polonia and Bob Dennis were also very good in the their roles. I have to admit, Bob Dennis is really great here, offering up a fine performance as a guy trying to do the right thing, for a change. I enjoyed seeing his transition from slime ball to someone willing to sacrifice himself for his friends. His blossoming love for Jennifer was also a real plus, adding another element to the picture.

Among Us is a perfect example of what can be done with a whole lot of passion and not a lot of money, and I highly highly highly recommend it. I think the Polonia brothers and McBride might have actually set the bar with Among Us. It'll be fun to see if they can top themselves in the future.

Criminally Insane 2

Where the first Criminally Insane has developed into a sort-of cult horror classic, the second has garnered much attention for its inability to live up to its predecessor and its obvious lack of imagination.

The original Criminally Insane was truly an exercise in uncompromised creepiness, due partially to the director, Steve Millard, who seemed concentrated on delving into areas that were sure to offend mass audiences. The subject matter, a woman cannibalizing members of her family, and the alternate title, Crazy Fat Ethel, are enough in themselves to offend substantial groups of people. However, the merging of religious imagery, there's a statue of Jesus drenched in a victim's blood, alongside images of a deranged woman chopping to pieces members of her family, were sure to push fellows so inclined, over the edge, at the same time, garnering hordes of fans who enjoy that sort of thing. Personally, I loved the first picture, and consider it one of the truly great slasher films of the seventies. Sadly, my reaction to the sequel is something else altogether.

Priscilla Alden, a little older and a little grayer, is back as Ethel Janowski, still confined to the Nappa Mental Institute, and still reliving, in her dreams, the nightmare that is her past. Thirteen years later, Ethel Janowski, a dangerously obese young woman, murdered and cannibalized six members of her family before being caught and sentenced to a mental institute -- all of which is displayed in gory detail in the original film. Her descent into madness was strangely remedied by a deranged compulsion to eat. When part two commences, we realize that the years haven't been kind to poor Ethel. A heavy stream of sleep-inducing medication combined with extensive counseling, has done very little to cure her. Ethel seems unable, or unwilling, to grasp the sheer horrific magnitude of her past deeds, something that is completely lost on the Nappa doctors, who seem more concerned with the overcrowding problem at the institution. This, of course, sets up the next function of the story. Funding and capacity problems at the hospital force the trustees into making a radical decision about what to do with some of their patients. So, after some careful consideration, they decide to release some of their more non-violent patients to a moderately supervised halfway house. Deemed passive by at least one of the doctors, Ethel is quickly put on the list to be released. Big mistake.

The elderly owner of the rehabilitation house, Hope Bartholomew (Lisa Farros), who lives by the credo "There's always hope" quickly detects that her newest guest might be more dangerous than the doctors had specified, and grows even more weary when Ethel starts referring to her as granny -- the family member who set off Ethel's murderous rampage some thirteen years earlier. Ethel's mental condition starts to deteriorate rapidly in her new surroundings, as she spends more time alone in her thoughts, re-living her past murders, and dwelling on ways to partake in more. Her equally bizarre house mates, a fellow 'reformed' serial killer who likes to boast about the various ways he dispatched his ex-wives, and another fellow, who chases and eats bugs, only help to accelerate her descent into total madness. Ad to the mix the fact that Ethel's being deprived of her food and not taking her medication, and it's just a matter of time before she goes on another hack and slash campaign. When it starts, it's almost worth the wait, as Ethel puts much more thought into her second murderous gyration. One of her house guests, the wife killer, is somehow able to read Ethel like a book, slowly discerning each of her various plots to murder him, including a plan to get him to drink tea laced with rat poison. Strangely, it is the exchanges between these two slightly clichéd killers that provides some of the more interesting moments in the film.

The story of Ethel Janowski comes full-circle at the end of the film when she wanders outside into the backyard and begins dancing about in the sunlight. Clad in a raggedy dress and holding a bloody knife, Ethel skips about gleefully, basking in her own madness. The macabre outdoor dance, which feels almost like a symbolic reclaiming of virtue by the main character, brings to mind images of the first film, where the younger Ethel had dreamed of dancing about in the sunlight just before she was arrested. This time, her dream is fulfilled.

Regarding the technical aspects of the film, it is a mess. The 1975 original was shot on film, while the sequel was shot on video. The two formats are merged together in the dream sequences, and it just doesn't work. If anything, it helps to provide a visual confirmation of the superiority of film over video. Also, the acting is stiff, even by Alden, who has made quite a career working alongside such Hollywood heavyweights as Hugh Grant and Nicholas Cage. Here she isn't given much room to play character-wise, which probably accounts for her uninspired, dreary performance. The other actors, which include mostly amateurs and at least one former porn star, are just as rigid in their roles. The writer-director, Steve Millard, who started out making hardcore porn films in the late sixties, would pretty much finish his career with Criminally Insane 2. He would make only one other film before retiring in 1988. It doesn't so much matter I guess, as it became abundantly obvious while watching this sequel, that he was no longer the spirited director he once was.

The Millard family, Nick, Frances, S.S. and, of course, Steve, are essentially legends in the exploitation-movie universe and their films, including the Criminally Insane franchise, have become rare treasures sought after by everyone from die-hard collectors to b-movie archivists. I'm optimistic that someday we'll witness a resurgence of their films on DVD. Like Ms. Bartholomew was so fond of saying, there's always hope.

My initial reaction to Dog Park was that it was a deeply personal film from a writer intent on conveying his own sense of loneliness and cynicism towards life and relationships -- accompanied by a glimmer of hope, conceded in a subtle connecting glance across a crowded park by the film's two protagonists. Dog Park is a very smart film with a real, albeit subtle, depth, which is missed by most -- as evidenced in the majority of the user comments. Close examination brings to mind another film, Medem's Los Amantes del Circulo Polar, and the provocative ideas it evoked about the circle of life, the role that coincidences play in that life, about fate, and pain, loneliness and the desire, ultimately, to find, and be loved by, that one special person.

A chance meeting in a bar by two lonely people on the rebound, establishes what will constitute the film's love story. Their meeting is awkward, and uncomfortable, and at least one of them is sure that they've seen the other before, somewhere, maybe "...at the dog park." They take some personal jabs at each other before the two settle into an introductory conversation and quickly realize that there is something surprisingly beautiful about that person sitting across from them. They segue to an apartment only to wind up in a bathroom where one of them is getting sick, while the other gracefully consoles them. Shot from high above the bathroom window, we watch as the two embrace each other, taking note that this is the last time they will grace the screen together for the good majority of the film.

The guy is Andy, played by Luke Wilson, an endearing serial monogamist who has been stranded in one romantic relationship after another since the eighth grade, engaged in a sort-of quest for that one special person to share his life with. He slowly discerns that his most recent 'bad date' might actually be that special person he has been seeking all his life, confiding to a friend about her, "Have you seen somebody in a certain light and you felt like you knew everything about them?" His corresponding love interest is Lorna, played by Natasha Henstridge, an equally endearing person who is so emotionally dented by one too many ugly break-ups that she can't even conceive of getting into another one. She wants true love, and realizes early on that she might actually find it with Andy, but is just unable to gamble being hurt again, best articulated in their post-date phone conversation where she shoots down his offer of a follow-up date. Her facial expression says everything, pointing out the divergence between what she really wants and what she is able to do. She is clearly caught in a personal struggle between her protective instincts and her desire to be loved -- and stranded in her own loneliness.

Along for the ride are several other characters, both human and canine, including Kathleen Robertson, Andy's ex, who has dumped him for a sex-obsessed loser, Gordon Currie, who just happened to be the fellow who dumped Lorna. There's also Janeane Garofalo and Bruce McCullough, the seemingly perfect couple representing, at least for Andy, the ideal relationship he desperately longs for -- that is, until it begins unraveling in front of him. There's also several interesting background characters, namely Lorna's bestfriend, Rachel (Carey), Andy's blustery girlfriend, Kieran (Lehman), and Lorna's Mr. Wrong, Callum, played Harland Williams, a contradictory sort, whose wild-eyed goofball antics are only offset by his extraordinary insightfulness. With the film's progression, it becomes apparent that these characters are inexplicably linked together by chance, romance and an unwavering devotion to their dogs.

Speaking of dogs, everybody in the film has one, or at least shares one, and all of them are seeking counsel from the local animal psychologist, Dr. Cavan, played by Mark McKinney, who plays the straight man to all the craziness going on around him. In a way he represents the audience, understanding partially the cyclical nature of what is happening; the dogs are showing signs of stress because they are reacting to their owners' stress. McKinney's straight-laced, pseudo-analytical antics and inability to relate to other human beings, including his own children, provide some of the more hilarious moments.

Cinematically, Dog Park walks the line between dark and quirky and completely hilarious. It also seems to be pushing some kind of bizarre cosmic diagram. McCullough seemed to have designed the plot around this weird 'life-is-cyclical' idea, mentioned before and evidenced numerous times throughout the film. Actually, I lost count how many times situations or elements are twice repeated in the film, each with a differing outcome. A pick-up story, 'exchanging phone numbers after an automobile accident' is utilized twice in the film, each time with a much different tone. Locations, lines of dialogue, dating habits and minor characters appear or are stated twice with their relevance becoming much clearer on the second go around. Even a number, specifically one-hundred, appears twice in the film, the first time it is used as a means to bring together a couple, the second, to keep apart. There's even a 'dating chain' which is elaborated upon by one of the characters, a sort-of celestial ecosystem that mathematically determines who does or doesn't find love.

Bruce McCullough is a very talented director who had a lot to say with this, his first film, and in my opinion, he hit every note perfectly. He understands the romantic comedy in ways that most directors don't, or ever will, conceding that audiences don't need to see the heroes engage in an endless kiss or stagger into a bedroom hell bent on a physical consummation. He understands that sometimes, really, all that is needed is that subtle adoring look across a park or a nervous smile exchanged in a crowded bar by two people who know they are meant for each other. Sometimes that all it takes.

I love this film!

Suggests that those who live by the sword, are bound to die by it, as well. Dweller opens in a baptism of violence, as three ex-cons pull off a gruesome, blood-soaked armed-robbery on a small downtown bank. They kill everyone before tearing off in a stolen car towards the false-shelter of the forests of the Pacific Northwest, just a few hours down the highway. High above the Earth, in the vast expanse of space, two rival intergalactic armies light up the blackness of the cosmos in a violent, laser-filled battle. It is during this violent skirmish that one of the saucers is damaged and veers off awkwardly towards Earth, in desperate need of repairs.

After driving long into the night, and experiencing some unexpected car trouble, the three tired crooks stumble upon a small empty cabin in the woods and decide to retire until they can make the necessary repairs to thei r vehicle. It isn't long before one of the cons (John Polonia) senses that all is not well, and that someone, or something, might be lurking in the forest around their makeshift cabin.

The film decides to take a sharp, and very calculated, turn in direction, switching from a bloody Arthur Penn-like gangster film, to a creepy, man versus the unknown, sci-fi outing. The music and cinematography all work to ratchet up the tension to an exhausting level. The trio find themselves stuck inside the claustrophobic confines of the ramshackle cabin, as the forest outside begins to take on a menacing texture with each pass by the cabin window. This, of course, gives way to an interesting character study of the three thugs as it becomes clear that all is not right around them, and the relationship between the three quickly disintegrates into a downward spiral of distrust, cynicism and violence. By film's end, I was wondering who was going to stab who in the back first... literally. Their demise, although predictable, is dispatched accordingly by the degrees of the various character's inherent malevolence. Jake's fate, although non-violent, and somewhat ambassadorial in tone, is clearly the most disturbing of the three.

Everyone is great in the movie, which features several significant names in the B-film universe including Leslie Culton, Jeff Dylan Graham and Matt Satterly - all of which appear in brief, but important roles. The most notable performance of the cast belongs to star Jon McBride, who is given the chance to play against type for a change, something that he hasn't been accustomed to doing in his nearly decade long film career. In Dweller, McBride offers up an unforgettable performance as the sadistic, sociopathic, misogynistic bank-robber, Jake. He is truly mesmerizing here. Jon was also a co-director, writer and editor on the project and his hard work is rewarded as this might just be his finest film to date. For myself, when I think of Jon McBride, I think of Jake. A testament to his ability as an actor.

There is at least two black and white sequences in the film; a dream, and a flashback, that feel somewhat out of place, but actually work in a quirky kind of way. The unforgettable flashback sequence, involving John Polonia stabbing to death a grocery store clerk after he has been caught perusing a store's aisles after hours, is very effective, as it gives the audience a grisly reminder of just what they are dealing with these three thugs.

This film is destined to become a cult-classic if it can find an audience. Last I heard, the Polonia's were having trouble finding a North American distributor. All I can say is, if you get the chance to watch this, don't pass it up. Dweller truly is a micro-budget treat.