Night Terrors

Transporting the viewer down the proverbial rabbit hole, 2016's A Cure for Wellness, co-written and directed by Gore Verbinski, is a fantastical fairy tale, but maybe not in the way you might be thinking. Rooted in the original Grimm versions of the stories that might come to mind, this narrative is horror tinged, to be sure. Full of juxtaposition and symmetry, we follow a newly promoted cutthroat executive, boy-faced Lockhart (Dane DeHaan), who is being tasked with retrieving their CEO emeritus of sorts, Pembroke (Harry Groener) – a beast of a businessman, who, after taking two weeks off in the Swiss Alps, has decided to call it quits and focus more on his health and wellness (a complete role reversal by the businessman).

Adding horror to sex and drugs and rock `n roll, 1985's Hard Rock Zombies, co-written and directed by Krishna Shah, was never supposed to happen – as it was only meant to be a twenty minute faux feature that would play in the background at the titular American Drive-In (a comedy released the same year)... instead, the film maker scraped together a bit more money, and a true (and truly bad) cult classic was born. A throw everything at it but the kitchen sink style production, the narrative is a bit of a mess, but in the best possible way. Following the burgeoning rock band Holy Moses (E.J. Curse – member of Silent Rage, Geno Andrews, Sam Mann, Mick McMains)

2022's Barbarian, which is written and directed by Zach Cregger, is a gonzo, go for broke horror thriller that needs to be seen to believe... preferably with as little known as possible, so this will be a pared-down, to the basics, as close to spoiler free review as possible. Following a guarded gal, Tess (Georgina Campbell), she has Airbnb’d a cute place in a sketchy neighbourhood in Detroit (the city takes another movie blow after others like Don’t Breathe). Arriving late at night (not truly realizing just how ramshackle the surrounding area is), she finds the lockbox holding key empty. A perfect side note for history lovers, the address of the place is 476 Barbary St. – the year the barbarians invaded ancient Rome.

A movie about blood-sucking parasites... if you’re thinking I’m talking about lawyers, you’d be way off track today; Ticks have become creatures that haunt the backs of our minds as we enjoy our outdoor summer activities (fears of Lyme disease and meat allergies run rampant in articles found in newspapers and online), meaning the 1993 direct-to-video cult classic directed by Tony Randel is more pertinent than ever before. Following a group of lowly teens that are a part of a program run by Holly Lambert (Rosalind Allen) and Charles Danson (Peter Scolari), the shtupping pair bring kids from inner city Los Angeles out into nature as a form of therapy and group bonding (Holly is in charge of the former, while Charles studies the latter).

Back in the late 1970s, then first time co-writer/co-director Kathryn Bigelow, along with Monty Montgomery, were fortunate enough to have spotted one Willem Dafoe on the stage – a member of the Wooster Group experimental theater company. Asking him to be a part of their movie, it would also become the actor’s first credited role. That film would eventually be called The Loveless (1981)... prior to that, it was known as US 17 and Breakdown. Set in the 1950s and infused with a post-punk flair, the narrative follows Vance (Dafoe), an enigmatic nihilist with an intoxicating allure. A quiet biker wearing black leather and equally as dark Brylcreem’d back hair, he oozes an indifferent quality of danger and sexuality. Living on the edge of life (or perhaps more accurately, a knife), he’s the type of conundrum that stops to help a lady with a flat tire, only to nab a controversial kiss and then take the money from her wallet for payment as he departs... leaving her all shook up in more ways than one.

A most fitting tribute to the early days of the slasher film, writer/director Ti West’s X (2022), subtly pulls from Black Christmas, Halloween, while tossing in more liberal doses from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre to bring the sub-genre back from the shadowy fringes of death and into mainstream theatres (though you could argue that this one is better suited for a classic drive-in screening). Opening with a really clever shot that pays homage to the traditional boxy 4:3 aspect ratio of years past, it actually isn’t... just some visual trickery to place us in Texas, circa 1979. Rather bluntly teasing a bloody conclusion, we then flash back twenty-four hours to our sex-crazed protagonists.