About 15 minutes into Tucker & Dale, you will think to yourself: why did no one have this brilliant idea before? Maybe if they did, it would not the work of horror comedy genius that this film is. While initially worried that I saw all the best jokes in the trailer, I was amazed at how Craig and Jurgenson kept the entire film fresh and brilliantly funny.

Tucker (Tudyk) and Dale (Labine) are a couple of stereotypical rednecks, dirty baseball caps and all. Having just purchased their ‘vacation home’ (i.e. ramshackle hut in the middle of the woods), they dream of having the good life, just fishing and relaxing. That is, until a pesky group of bored college kids with their cell phones and attitudes show up to ruin everything. That’s right, this time the hillbillies have the floor, and show up every stereotype. When one of the kids falls into the river, Tucker and Dale rescue her; however, their calls of “We’ve got your friend” are met with screams of terror. And as the others try to “save” their friend from the “killer” hillbillies, they themselves die off one by one in nasty and bizarre ways. And in the meantime, Dale becomes more and more enamored of the ‘victim’, Allison. Craig runs through like every horror film involving a group of annoying teenagers, from Blood Bath to Texas Chainsaw Massacre to Cabin Fever. And like most of us probably always believed, the teenagers kind of have it coming to them. Except now Tucker and Dale have a growing pile of bodies on their hands and an impossible story to relate to police. So they try to cover it up, i.e. bury the bodies. The script not only plays on the big clichés, but almost every line of dialogue has a hidden gem or undertone to it, and it is never over or under played by any of the actors.

Tudyk is a natural comedian, and while most of his comedy is in his turn-of-phrase, it’s good to see him given a chance to execute his physical comedic ability as well. He and Labine play off each other extremely well, as the confident one trying to buck up the shy one. All of the cast are excellent, and each plays just enough to keep the comedy while not overdoing it.

After playing at a few festivals, this film seems to have disappeared, and there is no listing of a release date for North America on IMDB. Let’s hope this changes, because I can’t imagine this film not doing well among both horror and comedy fans.

Shot in just under 10 very long takes, Vivas’ Secuestrados tells the story of a wealthy family who, having just moved into their new home, are held hostage and robbed by three masked men. No harm seems intended for the victims, until one of the thieves’ psychotic personality starts to show itself, and the father of the family attempts to get help. Then all hell breaks loose.

Whereas Michael Haneke’s Funny Games (both versions) dealt far more with the psychology of the criminals and the great question of why, Vivas is far more interested in showing the act itself, the actions of the criminals and the victims and the outcomes of these actions. The complete unfathomability of the situation; the slow realization of the danger; the split section decisions that more often than not lead to disaster. While it can be hard to imagine something like this happening, Vivas is definitely aiming for realism not only in the narrative but the aesthetics. Through the use of the long takes, the film operates in near real time. Through the use of the single, handheld camera, the viewer is sitting next to the family when they beaten, driving with the father when is forced to take money from multiple ATMs, back at the house when the mother is offering herself in her daughter’s place when one of the criminals intends rape. And it barely stops to catch a breath. Which is precisely the point. It is impossible to know how to react in these situations (not that they occur often) because there is no time.

As an exercise in filmmaking, it succeeds brilliantly. And usually I have no time for such films, as they sacrifice too much of the narrative for the aesthetics. But Vivas has succeeded where others have failed; the family and the criminals were believable, and I could imagine myself doing the sane things they did (the family, that is, not the criminals), even with the disastrous results. The ending falters, though; it seems to spill over into a territory of “let’s make this as horrible as we possibly can’, which does not serve the story very well. Overall, though, Vivas has created a tense, nail-biting thriller that rarely lets its audience down.

Our North American, contemporary version of Santa Claus apparently comes from Coca-Cola; the red suit trimmers with white, the beard, the jolly laughing belly. Santa Claus or some version of him has been around for several centuries, of course, but our modern age has skewed the origins quite a lot. In this tale of the man, director and writer Helander conceives not of a jolly person who brings presents to little children, but of a demon buried deep under a mountain, a demon that eats children. And it will take a child to stop him.

Helander has made two short films on the subject. His feature proves he can enlarge his story to tremendous effect. Pietari and his father live in the north Finland, herding reindeer. But this Christmas someone (or something) has killed the reindeer. They think it has something to do with the Americans who are digging into the nearby mountain. It seems whatever got out needs raw meat, and when Pietari’s father and his friends capture it, they discover it has a purpose: the capture young children for Santa. The real Santa. The one who will eat children and wreak havoc on the world.

This is a film that demands to be seen on the big screen, in order to capture the barren and haunting landscape of this isolated part of the world. This is also works to understand the child’s perspective. The film is reminiscent of the great 80s young adult adventure films, such as The Goonies and Young Sherlock Holmes: it’s most definitely frightening (in particular the terrifying eyes of Santa’s Helpers), and has great action sequences. And at the same time it knows the sense of humour and keeps it smart enough for adults and funny enough for kids. This belongs on the shelf alongside other Christmas favourites such as A Christmas Story; it brings that kind of sardonic sensibility, along with a sense of adventure, and a fresh take on the usual Christmas fantasy narrative.

La Casa Muda has become fairly well known on the fantastic festival circuit mainly for its modus operandi: it was shot in one long take. And deservedly so: this technique, which frequently incorporates first person perspective, creates one of the most terrifying atmospheres in any horror film I’ve watched. The tension created by this technique, made more atmospheric by the natural (i.e. almost complete lack of) lighting and the traditional remote, old haunted house that may or may not be inhabited by a psycho-killer is outstanding.

Laura and her father are asked by a friend of his to help prepare an old family property for sale. They will spend the weekend there, cleaning it out and removing the old junk. When Laura and her father have bunked in for the night, Laura hears noises upstairs, where the friend had said the floors were not stable enough to walk on. She convinces her father to go up and investigate. She hears a crash, and her father is hurtled down the stairs, bloody and near death. The camera has been with Laura the entire time, so the audience is just as in the dark as she is.

Unfortunately, this is where the film starts to lose its believability. I can’t think of any person who would not use any and all means possible to get out of that house. Laura does try the door once, and then proceeds to go upstairs. By the end of the film, there is an explanation given to Laura’s behaviour. But it itself is too implausible, or perhaps too cliché, to be taken seriously. However, if the plot is put aside, this is one of the most incredible aesthetic executions of horror and fear in recent film memory. As Laura, with aching slowness, makes her way upstairs to discover the source of the fear, the camera both follows her and is her. The claustrophobia extends out into the audience; I can’t remember the last time a film made that many viewers jump so many times.

But the narrative is not enough to sustain it, and the final explanation is less than gratifying. Strong performances, especially by Florencia Colucci as Laura, are solid and believable. But if it were any other person, they would have used any and all means available to get out of that house and never return, and without that, it does not quite satisfy.

A gem of a comedy from Argentina, Fase 7 tries to find the lighter side of disease outbreak. Sounds like a contradiction, but writer and director Nicolás Goldbart focuses on the residents of a small apartment building in order to examine the (humourous) human condition during trying times. Coco and his fellow building dwellers are quarantined in their block after one of the neighbours is diagnosed with the latest super virus. The number given to them by authorities never works, so Coco, his pregnant wife Pipi, and the others must survive on their own. At first boredom is the greatest enemy; Coco experiments with strange television shows and redoing his beard and mustache. Other neighbours seem to be taking matters much more seriously. One refuses to leave his apartment unless in a biohazard suit; two others are convinced that a third is ill and they plan means to get him out; and no one knows if the Chinese family are in the building or not.

Science fiction films, such as this, observing the slow deterioration of society are not new; but this film is highly original in execution. And just when the audience may think they understand where the story is going, Goldbart throws them down a completely different path. The humour may be absurd, but it never quite goes into complete inconceivability. I say complete, as some sections have a touch of French farce about them in their outrageousness. And it is hard to believe that some people would remain that calm when stuck inside their apartment for so many weeks with next to no contact with the outside world. As Coco and Pipi slowly work their way through their food supply, their arguments are about what to watch on TV, who is doing the washing up, and why Coco keeps going out to the hall and coming back wearing a bright yellow hazard suit. Veteran Argentinean actor Federico Luppi (Cronos, The Devil’s Backbone) shows his rarely seen comic touch as a neighbour who seems to have adopted a jungle mentality and a jungle-style gun. What do we do when our neighbours go crazy and the police aren’t around? Do you set tripwires for them? Or do you just hunker down and wait for the end? Goldbart deftly conducts his film as a strange absurd look at the true meaning of neighbours, and maybe the true meaning of boredom, in a fresh and highly original film.

Eugenio Mira’s second feature is a strange but rare and beautiful bird. A blend of espionage thriller, gothic romance, and fantasy, the title refers to a neurological disorder in which the brain cannot properly interpret visual and aural stimuli, and thereby cannot tell faces and voices apart. Set in late 19^th century Barcelona, the victim of this illness is Joana, the daughter of Artur Prats, a lens maker whose creation of the first telescopic rifle scope inadvertently leads to his daughter’s predicament. When he vows never to reveal the secret lens formula, other industrialists concoct a plan to trick Joana into giving it away. They force Vicent, a former servant who under Joana’s condition can be mistaken for her fiancé Carles, into wooing it out of her.

Screenwriter Antonio Trashorras (The Devil’s Backbone) and Mira weave the varying generic elements together seamlessly. The film is gorgeous to look at, with an amazing attention to detail in the story and the aesthetics. And at first, it might seem almost too simply, a love triangle. But Mira makes several tiny cuts in the fabric of the story to allow the viewer to look beneath the surface. The cinematic interpretation of Joana’s condition is terrifying; if I have a criticism of the film, it is that I wish there was more of Joana’s perspective, as it was cleverly enacted. The art direction and cinematography make the film a sumptuous feast for the eyes. But one of the cuts Mira makes gives the viewer the impression that they themselves have agnosia; stripping the scenes of Joana’s isolation of all their color, the viewer is forced to understand her perspective: with no recognizable faces or voices, she can only attempt to interpret the words, and the meaning behind them.

The viewer, of course, has more information than Joana, but is caught up attempting to understand her means of interpretation. Her fiancé Carles might love her, but he is unable to express it, and he remains as distant to as she is to him. Vicent is, and he slowly unlocks her heart by finding the right words. Eduardo Noriega’s performance as Carles especially is one of quiet desperation; it seems that he has always loved Joana, but is too bound by societal convention and his own needs. With a haunting soundtrack composed by the director, Mira makes what in other hands might have been a telenovela into something much darker and richer: a clever mix of the gothic and the fantastic, with love and spies, crafted together in a mesmerizing pattern.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Heartless also stars the gorgeous Clémence Poésy and the awesome Eddie Marsan.
No North American release date has been set, but keep your eye on the official site for any news regarding a local screening.

Be sure to check out Shelagh’s review of Heartless from last year’s Sitges Film Festival.

Probably the best night I had at Sitges was not at a film, but at a party (like all good festivals, the parties are great). This one was set up by the Film Festival Mafia, a group of film festival hounds of which I am now a proud member. But this was no ordinary party – it was karaoke. You have not lived until you’ve seen the guys from Fantastic Fest in Austin tear their shirts off and rock some Guns ‘n Roses. Oh, such memories. But back to the movies.

Doghouse – Directed by Jake West. Starring Danny Dyer, Noel Clarke

The British have a knack for combining horror and comedy. And while this zom-rom-com is not in the same league as Shaun of the Dead, it certainly adds a fun new twist to the becoming-tired-at-lightning-speed zombie subgenre. A group of male friends, in an effort to cheer up one of their lot as he heads for a painful divorce, go to a small town in rural England where the population is 75% female. But as they arrive, it turns out that that 75% have turned into zombie-like creature who will attack anyone with an excess of testosterone.  Politically correct, this film is not; but that’s a good thing. Indeed, it makes as much fun of the way men stereotype and generalize female behavior as much as exposing some of that behavior, which I can say as a woman, is accurate and embarrassing. While the film strays into certain cliches (all the men represent a type, and you couldn’t see these varying types actually hanging out together for example), there are enough laughs and originality to sustain the 90 minutes.  Apparently there’s a “cathouse” script in the works. Now that I will see.

Macabre – Directed by The MO Brothers. Starring Shareefa Daanish, Julie Estelle.

Certainly Indonesian cinema knows how to scare the crap out of world audiences, whether it be through subtle ghost stories or headlong violence and gore. Macabre into the second category. A group of friends are driving home to Jakarta on a rainy night when they encounter a lost girl. They offer to drive her home, where she in turn offers to make them a meal. They meet her creepy and surprisingly young mother, Dara, and all hell breaks loose from there. Like Doghouse, this is not the most original of stories. A dark house with spooky inhabitants, young horny people being picked off one by one; sinister plots and body parts kept in jars . But it’s done with incredible style and atmosphere and there’s never a dull moment. I was peeking through my fingers at the screen at several points and I don’t scare easily. The film centres the plot around a brother and sister, whose strained relationship is put to the test when they must fight to save each other from the house of horrors. This gives the audience something to hold onto, which otherwise might have left the film stranded in the land of who cares about the people getting killed. The directors crank up the tension at just the right pace to keep the adrenaline pumping.

Heartless – Directed by Philip Ridley. Starring Jim Sturgess, Noel Clark.

Philip Ridley could be called the Terrence Malick of British film. He has only made three feature films in the past 20 years, and all have been strange, illustrious gems: Reflecting Skin, The Passion of Darkly Noon, and now Heartless. Delving into theology, love, and the body, Ridley’s work haunts the viewer, and frightens them in a truly real and heart-stopping manner. I saw this film on my third to last day of the festival, and it was the one I had been waiting to see. By far my favourite at Sitges, and now one of my top five films of the year, Heartless is terrifying and beautiful. Set in troubled East London, it tells the story of Jamie (Jim Sturgess in his finest performance to date), a young man with a disfiguring birthmark that leaves him painfully shy and with few friends. Working for his brother and still living with his mother, Jamie spends his free time photographing the decaying buildings and littered empty lots of his neighbourhood. When a rash of gang violence threatens the area, Jamie discovers that the true criminals are in fact demons and he finds himself drawn into their world.

While the narrative is perhaps more conventional than Ridley’s previous work, it does not stop him from collapsing together genres and imagery from fairy tales to horror to urban blight. Jamie is the embodiment of the space he occupies. Ostracized for his less-than-perfect face, he is neglected and left to fend almost entirely for himself, with no protection against those who would use and abuse him. He longs for love and only manages to open up to a few kind souls who can look past his face into his heart. When offered the chance to rid himself of his birthmark and fit into the “normal” world, he finds himself paying a Faustian price beyond what his battered soul is capable of. The brilliance of the film lies in its simplicity, its honest, and its true horror. It is a horror similar to that of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road – horrifying because it is so real and the viewer could easily imagine themselves in Jamie’s place, forced to make the same choices because they see no other way out.

One review of Heartless called it a fever-dream, and I am inclined to agree.  It is the kind of film that leaves your heart raw and aching, and your mind reeling. Ridley lets the darkness permeate the space and filter into his characters, who are unable to prevent their own hearts from being eaten alive.

Europeans have a very different attitude towards genre film (by genre I mean science fiction, horror and fantasy). Rather than being a niche market that caters to a certain type of individual, genre film is welcomed and watched by a hefty portion of the population. It is not cult; it is (almost) mainstream. This also leaves the field of what is considered genre very wide open. This can be detrimental, but in Sitges case it works very well. Here is a sampling of some of the strange and wonderful (though not always both) films I saw.

Splice – Directed by Vincenzo Natali. Starring Adrian Brody, Sarah Polley

One of the most anticipated films of the year, Splice definitely does not disappoint. In fact, it dares to go places no American film would – but of course, it’s written and directed by a Canadian, filmed in Canada with a Canadian star. And it’s about genetic manipulation. Brody and Polley are a husband and wife scientific mastermind team who specialize in mixing up the DNA of various animals in order to create new pharmaceutical products to cure humanity’s ailments. In order to maintain funding, they secretly combine the DNA of several animals with human DNA; low and behold their experiment works and an artificial womb gives birth to Dren, a human-bird-horse-I don’t know what else hybrid. The scientists hide her, educate her and ultimately imprison her.  They bond with her as parents, but in the end they are not her parents, but her creators – and there is a world of difference between these two roles. The former is nurturing in order to allow the offspring to survive on its own; the latter is controlling, wanting their own vision to supercede any independence of the creation. Perhaps this is why Nietzsche said that God is dead; creations are more trouble than they are worth (creators too). How can you separate your emotions from your work when the thing you create is alive and sentient? How can you hope to control it? Are there things that science simply should not do? While Polley is her usual boring self (sorry, her acting has never impressed me), Brody gives a fantastic performance as a man caught between his work and his heart (and occasionally his libido). This is Natali’s best film since Cube.

Amer – Directed by Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani

A compelling combination of experimental, avant-garde and thriller modes, Amer is a hypnotic journey through four significant moments in one woman’s life. The plot must be gleaned from minute bits of action which run from erotic to terrifying. First there is a young girl whose grandmother may or may not be a witch; then the girl is a teenager, walking into town with her mother and encountering men on motorbikes. Then the girl is a woman, travelling by taxi to her family’s abandoned mansion. There she is stalked by an unknown assailant. But the plot is almost irrelevant. What matters is the haunting mood Cattet and Forzani create. With some of the best sound design I’ve ever heard in a film, the viewer is taken in by aural and visual delights and horrors. It is almost as if the viewer was the girl, feeling the prick of her grandmother’s fingers on her shoulder, or hearing the revving of the motorbike engine ignite her libido. While many genre filmmakers experiment with the avant-garde, these directors succeed by creating a film which needs no plot in order to keep the viewer haunted and fascinated.

Cargo – Directed by Ivan Engler

Any film from Switzerland is a rarity; even more so is a science fiction film. While the plot is more a mesh of plots from several popular science fiction films such as The Matrix, Event Horizon, and Serenity, it, the actors and the amazing art direction are enough for a very solid film. In a future where the Earth is apparently uninhabitable, the remnants of humanity wait in a space station trying to gain passage to a distant planet where life is seemingly utopian. Laura, a young medic, takes a four-year job on a transport ship to earn enough money to get to the planet where her sister’s family already resides. While the motley crew sleeps their way across space, they take turns waking for weeks at a time to monitor the ship. Laura is then all but alone in the hulking craft and believes she sees a stowaway. As she delves deeper into the mystery, she finds that it goes far beyond the confines of the ship. I write confines in the metaphoric sense, as Engler gives us a ship which is as lonely, cold and immeasurably huge as space itself. Space is both vast and claustrophobic, where the smallest movement could be imagination or threat, and the wrong door opened salvation or death. While it comes close to cliche, Cargo is still an effective film.

TiMER – Directed by Jac Schaeffer

Everyone (or most people) dream of finding their soul mate. Well, what if you could have a device implanted on your wrist that would tell you the exact date you would meet them (that is, if they also had the device implanted)? Would you do it, or would you trust that love is something more than science? And if you did know, what would you do in the meantime? Jac Schaeffer asks these questions in her first feature film Timer, starring Buffy veteren Emma Caulfield. Her character Oona has a timer, but her soul mate (if he exists) does not; her stepsister Stephanie won’t meet her soul mate for 15 years. While Oona holds out, Stephanie makes hay while the sun shines.  A romantic comedy (with a dash of science fiction) that will certainly appeal to single women, the film is very original in concept, if not so much in execution. It questions the western ideal of “the one”, the strange mating rituals that permeate contemporary society, and the wish that most people have for a love guarantee. While the film is fairly predictable and drags at points, the cast is engaging and real enough to make the viewer think about their own expectations of love and marriage.