Month: August 2022

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Dead Northern 2022 Festival Reviews Reviews

Dead Northern 2022 Festival Review – The Group

After a gunman holds a support group under siege, they must all confront their mysterious pasts to fight for survival. 

Coming from the cinematically versed Will Higo is The Group, a claustrophobic, intense, and poignantly personal, cautionary tale encompassing the process of forgiveness, transformation, and most importantly deadly consequences. Higo, whose extensive credits include behind the scene work for The Crown (2016) and Spider-Man Homecoming (2017), as well as directing short films such as Nemesis (2010) and NSFL (2014), crafted The Group from the ground up, dedicated to showcasing a fast-paced, testing, and morally ambiguous feat. 

What innately comes from indie filmmaking is a unique sense of creativity that utilises any natural constraints and molds them into key plot details that in the right hands can result in effective conclusions that push the film into unrepeatable and influential territories. The setting of The Group being an Addicts Anonymous meeting allows for an intimate narrative to unfold, and ultimately plunges a close-knit, character-defined story into the forefront. As the dynamic becomes more heated with the involvement of the gunman, they are urged to unravel their chaotic past, which is a task for anyone, but when those histories are rife with trauma and pain, a newfound need to escape both figuratively and emotionally comes into motion. 

Blasting the vibrant roots of the story even further are the performances. The isolated boundaries that come from a one-room setting force the focus to immediately fall upon the characters and their actions. The pressurized situation acts like a boiling pot where the group waits on the edge of their seat for the torment as they decode and come to terms with their wrongdoings and misfortunes. 

While all are important, the titular character of Kara (Evangelina Burton) takes the viewer’s hand in guiding them through one of the most chilling, and pulse-pounding 71 minutes of their lives. Burton’s portrayal of a person on the edge and at the point of defeat projects exactly what The Group is about. Burton positions the anger within as if the torturous meeting is just the tip of the iceberg for her. Alongside Burton is Dylan Baldwin who plays the ubiquitously sinister weapon-wielder, Jack. Baldwin encapsulates a dangerously threatening level of menace that really amps up the fear factor throughout, not at one point does his actions (that take control of the narrative direction) become predictable, making the experience even more action-packed. 

The Group requires a tricky mix of personalities from different backgrounds whose varied experiences shaped their identity and why they are placed within the AA setting in the first place. As it stands, their anonymity to one another allows a shield to be cast around their individualised barriers, but when the situation turns ugly and Jack ups the stakes, the group’s commonplace differences come secondary to survival. Their dynamic changes from one of detachment to unity, in return pushing comfort away and instead spearheading vulnerability. 

As with any horror that steps outside the box and infuses a delicate topic into the narrative, a keen urge to accommodate the fragile nature of the subject is made. Higo’s introduction of addiction into The Group does not aim to shy away from the harsh truths that are joined with such an illness. The chance to move on, apologise, and seek redemption is one that applies to everyone directly involved in that person’s path; the journey is rarely singular. The Group overtly holds it grip on the viewer through initiating a heightened level of violence and threat, whilst also under the surface permeating a dark level of trauma and personalised grief. 

The Group dares to challenge. And more inadvertently, the film openly asks the audience what they would do in this situation on both ends of the firing line. Is Jack simply a man at the end of his tether, or are his actions redeemable? These are just some of the questions that Higo brazenly brings to the table, fleshing out the complexity of betrayal whilst still delivering impactful scares and memorable frights. 

Check out the film and much more at this years festival, tickets here…

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Dead Northern 2022 Festival Reviews Reviews

Dead Northern 2022 Festival Review – The Creeping

the creeping film poster

After a tragic incident in her childhood, Anna (Riann Steele) has become distant from her estranged family for years. Due to her grandmother, Lucy (Jane Lowe) suffering from Dementia, Anna travels back home to become her caregiver. However, soon after she arrives strange ordeals begin to happen with increasingly drastic effects, leading to Anna discovering the connection between the sinister occurrences and a disturbing family secret. 

The classic ghost story has made a home within horror for decades, seemingly the entire premise of ghoulish apparitions and dark entities have become entirely synonymous with definitive status within genre cinema. Yet, despite the traditional arrangement being so notorious, it is difficult to come across a modern horror film that is a streamlined quintessential ghost tale without unwarranted cheap scares and easy gimmicks. Jamie Hooper’s The Creeping is exactly what audiences have been begging for and precisely the type of cinema that horror has been longing for all these years. It’s that sense of habitats becoming infected with sinister otherness whose threat knows no bounds. 

Director Jamie Hooper’s natural talents have graced many award winning short films over the years including Unto Death (2017) and Don’t Peak (2020). Joining Hooper in co-writing this gothic inspired story is Helen Miles, known for sound mixing on films such as The Gentlemen (2019) and His House (2020). 

The familiarity seen within The Creeping is immediately a warming surprise, with sheet ghosts and dark hallways purposefully talking the audiences hand and promising a by-the-book haunted house legend where we know exactly what to expect, falsely creating a comfortable environment only for Hooper to brutally pull the rug out from under and deliver intensely frightening jumps and riveting jolts. In a formidable sense, The Creeping knows exactly when to take its sweet time building up ammunition and when to exactly pull the trigger. This push and pull layering method refuses to mimic similar filmmaking techniques seen by the likes of Mike Flanagan’s work in The Haunting of Hill House (2018), or travelling further back in time with Robert Wise’s The Haunting (1963); instead Hooper reinvents principles in a valiant and effective way that ensures The Creeping’s status within independent cinema will not be forgotten any time soon. 

The cottage, English countryside setting belongs to an innately intimidating aesthetic where ominous bodies can lurk around every dark corner. Establishing the malevolent force strung over every scene is the deeply seeded character development that takes a keen precedence throughout, and for a very vital reason. A horror film can easily conjure a quick reaction with a scary visual combined with a loud sound, but it takes a lot more grafting for that trembling fear to come from a deeper place that plants its roots early on, meaning that by the final act the audience literally cannot catch their breath. The Creeping elaborates a theme of generational trauma that comes to light within Anna and Lucy’s touching relationship. Lucy’s withering condition pulls at Anna’s heartstrings, but it also unearths a frightening realisation that her place within the family is dwindling as Lucy’s memory diminishes. The performances by both Riann Steele and Jane Lower are not only crucial to the film’s effect, but they are also utterly commendable and richly authentic. 

The Creeping is a methodical, wickedly dark, and effective horror that will indefinitely take indie horror to new heights. 

Check out the film and much more at this years festival, tickets here…

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Review – Nope (2022)

OJ (Daniel Kayuuya) and Emerald Haywood (Keke Palmer) have been making ends meet at their Californian horse ranch ever since their father died in a freak accident. With savings becoming dire and OJ selling the horses to neighbour/former childhood star Jupe (Steven Yeun) to get by, they discover a jackpot hovering over them. With the help of tech installer Angel (Brandon Perea), they venture out on a mission to capture evidence of a UFO. 

The contingency of exploitation is an enigma that defeats logical explanations. Humans as a species crave that feed that comes from tragedy, a lustful but apprehensive desire to absorb terror like an uncontrollable need to blemish a chance of achieving a completely placid mental state. Shamelessly forming from the attraction of the spectacle is a myriad of threats, keeping the mind on alert, knowing that danger is just around the corner; Obsession is a blessing and a curse. Jordan Peele’s follow up from the acclaimed Get Out (2017) and equally applauded Us (2019) is Nope (2022), quite possibly the most jaw dropping sci-fi, horror, drama, mystery to enter the mainstream market in the last twenty years. 

Just as the world was seemingly crumbling in 2020, many cinema aficionado’s were concerned over the future of film, with Peele belonging to the worried mob. It was at that moment that he knew his next film had to be a total pageant that deliberately dishes out way too much for the audience to handle, spiritually force feeding the masses as much onscreen swindling, distress, and catastrophe as they want. 

In all of the tormenting comments made about the trajectory of human behaviour within Nope is the deeply enigmatic setting, performances, cinematography, and stupefying score. The dusty and desolate landscape filmed in IMAX comes straight out of an old fashion western, with monotonous beige dirt tracks absorbing any nearby signs of occupied space, as if the ranch is just a small pinprick in a grand vastness of nothing. OJ, Em, and Angel are made to feel insignificant, especially in comparison to what lies above them. This ignorance to their being doesn’t just open up the screen to stunning exhibition shots captured by cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema, but it also embodies the physicality of the situation. The beastly UFO isn’t necessarily a spaceship hoarding wide eyed, green skinned aliens, the saucer is the extraterrestrial product itself that chews people up and spits them out whilst also psychically resembling a biblically accurate angel. The sheer lack of respect Nope dishes towards its characters is just one step in the chaotic ladder Peele climbs in order to tyrannise the hierarchy. Not a single character feels untouchable, they all have an equal share of not making it through to the end, instead, the most innocent of all creatures and somewhat deserving of peace is the UFO. 

Through distancing the ranch from common land, and detaching OJ, Em and Angel from others, the ‘being’ further obtains this status as otherness, and more importantly deadliness. Unlike in alternative alien features there are no throngs of weapons held by jacked-up Navy Seals ready to let rip an armour of projectiles. Instead, it treats the ranch like its playground, free to roam like one of Haywood’s horses. 

Consequently deriving from the autonomy held by the UFO is the lack thereof shown within the lands occupants. A large factor of Nope’s narrative surrounds an incident that occurred on Jupe’s sitcom in the late 1990s surrounding its main character- a chimpanzee named Gordy. The events leading up to and following on from Gordy’s rampage is horrific to say the least, but what stands out most besides the visual escapades is the reality of the situation. Gordy was a wild animal that was treated like a ‘worker’ made to perform to appease a live audience, and like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, it was only natural that a sudden change in scenario would cause Gordy to essentially ‘loose it’. Peele purposefully doesn’t show the massacre in graphic detail, in fact he doesn’t show the event (as it happened) in full length without interruptions at all. Somewhat, teasing the viewer knowing that they want to see Gordy go bananas ripping off faces and tearing into whatever flesh he finds. Peele’s dangling of the carrot firmly confirms his suspicions about the viewer, we may want to voyeuristically survey the primate gone mad, but we shouldn’t. Nope both tests the theory of spectacle and the greed for a show, whilst also denoting a sense of dignity back to the spectacle itself. 

The same argument could be said towards Jupe, the childhood star who instead of discussing Gordy’s tragedy in a humane way, replays the tale through an SNL sketch that was held in its memoir. Jupe’s glassy reflection discussing the hilarity of the event, combined with the fact that he sits in his theme park profiting off of his childhood stardom is a deeply sad feat. Nope is a horror that shocks and scares, but more importantly it’s an emotional analogy of how fragility and empathy is only to be experienced temporarily, with grief to be fought off in an attempt to get back on the wagon as soon as possible.

Further clawing its way down to the bone is Nope’s unbeatable horrific elements that enforce an inescapable air of claustrophobia, enhanced by unspeakable imagery revolving trapped, bloody spaces and viscera soaked exteriors encased with a suffocating soundscape brimming with echoed screams and Martian-like humming. The internal UFO scene in question is a given for any viewer familiar with Nope, and for those that want a juicy infill before watching the future sci-fi staple, it can be guaranteed that the visual is nearly impossible to forget. Even harder to forget is that horrible sickly sensation that washes over you as you watch unsuspecting people meet the worst demise possible.

Joining the intense brigade of travesty is Peele’s signature mark of satire comedy that is veiled enough to not overpower the film, but still enough to share a chuckle, particularly the darkness of his humour. For instance, when OJ is asked by an actress what his name is, she cannot help but turn a judgemental eye towards his initials; of course, making an ill-informed  nod to OJ Simpson, who in its entirety belongs to one of the media’s biggest spectacles in history. Exercising the brutal script to its maximum potential is the talents of Daniel Kaluuya and Keke Palmer, the film’s titular characters. As with many realistic family siblings, they are near complete opposites- a total extrovert vs introvert situation. OJ connects with the ranch’s horses with a sense of expertise because the peace within wrangling holds a devoutly vital equilibrium within his aura. In contrast is Em, who takes no prisoners in every situation she is placed in, lighting up the room and naturally drawing the limelight to her. The texture of having polar opposites join forces is a neat melody that Peele initiates. In a film about division from one another and the monetisation of adversity, perhaps Peele is making a statement showing that dissection and detachment is not the key to survival, but instead unity is. 

Ultimately lying at the bottomless gut of Nope is the disgruntled commentary directly spitting back what society has become infatuated with. And in a cruel way, Peele stealthy knows that critics, vloggers, casual movie-goers, and diehard horror fans will all be commenting upon the spectacle and the need for dissection. The irony of digesting Nope’s message as fact, only to then perform exactly what Peele is commenting upon (via blasting the film all over social media) is such a stern example of the decisive layering that goes into his filmmaking. 

Looking for more top horror lists and reviews? Check out our blog here..

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Dead Northern 2022 Festival Reviews Reviews

Dead Northern 2022 Festival Review – Shadow Vaults

During the dreary days of the pandemic, a group of tight knit friends from the New York theatre scene gather together for their weekly online Dungeon and Dragons campaign. This time round a new member is introduced to the group, Meredith (Taylor Richardson). Part of the campaign sees them sharing ghost stories to set the scene and warm Meredith to the exciting evening ahead. However, after the drinks begin to flow and things get heated. The tales become sinister, little do they know that one story will change the course of events far more than they could ever imagine. 

Rejuvenating the independent horror scene is Kevin T. Morales’s ultra nerve mangling horror Shadow Vaults. During the tumultuous era of quarantine periods, online gatherings, and panic buying the quest for fresh entertainment was a rocky road, but amidst all the cinematic lows was Morales’s future hit Shadow Vaults, which he belovedly directed, wrote, and co-produced. 

The talent tree runs within Morales’s family line, with his uncle being the Academy Award winning filmmaker Victor Fleming, creator of Gone with the Wind (1939) and The Wizard of Oz (1939). With an already rich career within the industry for years, 2019 saw Morales make a jump to creating feature films with his debut Generation Wrecks, a touching and hilarious comedy brimming with nostalgic delight, also starring Heather Matarazzo, Emily Bergl, and Alice Kremelberg. 

Desktop horror has bloomed in the last couple of years, with notable entries such as The Den (2013), Unfriended (2014), and Host (2020) bringing the horrors of the World Wide Web to screen. Shadow Vaults makes use of the familiar setting of internet chat rooms and video calls to encapsulate that intimate ambience that online engagement triggers, knowing that although you may be talking to people and have access to endless forums and fellow virtual users, the cold truth is that in reality it’s just you, alone, in an empty space vulnerable to anything and anyone…

Shadow Vaults exudes an eerie tension that thrusts the viewer right into the film, as if they are joining along with the meeting, like a phantom member. Further amalgamating this sense of personalness is the very socially rooted context and setting of the film. Set during a pandemic where company is rare and loneliness is the new tone, comes a great texture of isolation and abandonment where unprecedented times already have nations on alert. When combining this timely background with a malignant overtone steeped in trauma and biases the claustrophobic mood is enhanced, along with the ever classic element of uncertainty. Predictably is what breaks a film. No matter the genre or subject, obviousness is the curse. Shadow Vaults utilises the precariousness of its background to enrich a whole new level of extremity. For instance, the essence of Shadow Vaults belongs to a classic ghost story, one that starts off as sharing folklore, making easy entertainment for its listeners, wrapping the viewer up in a spooky but comfortable blanket, before Morales brutally snatches away the security to reveal a harsh ghostly pathos that dives into cycles of abuse, spirals of violence, and blissful ignorance. 

Shadow Vault’s gripping hold on the viewer will have audiences sleeping with the lights on, thanks to the unstoppable sense of dread, chilling tonal portrayal of close bonds, and the all encompassing terrifying aura. As the film unravels we learn all sorts of sordid secrets that have been lurking under the surface for some time, bubbling under the pressure waiting to implode. And although Morales could have easily relied on shock to determine the mood, he meticulously embellished the characters to be so entwined with the inner workings of the horror that the terror becomes interwoven and malevolent, sneaking up on you before you’ve even had the chance to run. As the group holds a friendship dynamic that has been held strong for eight years, the threat level is always going to be more advanced than in an environment with strangers. And due to the enclosed online setting, naturally it’s impossible to not feel a part of the group; thus directly positioning the horror close to home. 

The element of safe spaces being infected is not lost, even throughout the telling of the bone-chilling ghost stories. And it’s sufficient to say that the tales certainly hold up, namely through the staircase-like method Morales’s uses to escalate the alarm. The recitals begin off with formidable accounts of faceless otherworldly beings, legless ghouls, and haunted dolls nicely spicing up your senses, meaning that by the time you get to *thee* story (definitely to be experienced with no prior knowledge), the atmosphere is so taut that it would take nerves of steel to not shudder at the sheer thought of what’s going on. 

Shadow Vaults travels far deeper under the surface than many of its kind, and in doing so dismantles the strict and disquieting truth of evil. Horror is indiscriminate, there is no shield to prevent the fear, instead trauma is universal. And that actuality is electrifying. 

Check out the film and much more at this years festival, tickets here…

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Dead Northern 2022 Festival Reviews Reviews

Dead Northern 2022 Festival Review – Eating Miss Campbell


Beth Conner (Lyndsey Craine), a vegan-goth student falls in love with her English teacher Miss Campbell (Lala Barlow), and soon develops a forbidden taste for human flesh. 

Backed by Troma Entertainment’s Lloyd Kaufman and Michael Herz is Eating Miss Campbell (2022), starring Lyndsey Craine, Lala Barlow, Vito Trigo, James Hamar-Morton, Charlie Bond, Emily Haigh, Annabella Rich, Dani Thompson, and Laurence R. Harvey, with a cameo from Kaufman himself. 

The film takes the likes of high school hierarchy flicks such as Heathers (1988) and Tragedy Girls (2017), adds a dose of epic lunacy made notorious by Troma classics, coupled with a whopping punch of cannibalism, adolescent suicide, mass violence, and an infectious sense of daring humour.

The Yorkshire born and bred Liam Regan grabbed the horror world by the horns with his full-length feature debut My Bloody Banjo (2015), chronicling a bullied desk worker on his revenge seeking mission. The film was met with beloved reactions by those brave enough to sit through the bloody spectacle which saw acts of brutality be taken to another level, even garnering enough attention to be shown at the Cannes Film Festival in 2015, as well as having its world premiere at the one and only FrightFest. However, although horror fans take this as a stern compliment, the film was at first rejected by iTunes and Walmart due to its ferocity. This badge of honour only pushed Regan to continue his filmmaking pursuit with the upcoming classic that is Eating Miss Campbell, which has no qualms in pushing the viewer through an intense roller coaster where the maximalist approach is at full blast the entire time. 

The kinetically charged feast goes through its leaps and bounds against the backdrop of Beth’s turbulent journey of a more-than-forbidden romance story, all the whilst juggling her rambunctiously vicious parents, the coven-like mean girls at school, and a multitude of perverted ‘associates’. It’s this audacious cacophony of themes and events that truly places Eating Miss Campbell as a mighty force, with no controversial matter too dark to explore. Censorship may seem like a bygone past time, but the current consensus is far from being fully expressive, at times it seems that filmmaking freedom is near impossible. Troma films have always aimed to displease, shock even, and without being a carbon copy or testing for the sake of it, Regan puts up a valiant fight to keep the film down there with the most gnarliest, loathsome, and most importantly compelling horrors that tackles and triggers as much as it can. 

As established, the zealous gumption really is a sight for sore eyes, but just as stellar as the fruitful narrative are the performances, setting, and effects that all render together to create a mini universe so out of bounds and unique to the film. Lyndsey Craine sealed her status as an upcoming scream queen through her powerful performances in Book of Monsters (2018) and Zomblogalypse (2021), and with Eating Miss Campbell, it seems that her horror heroine capabilities are only on the rise. The character of Beth Conner is so enriched in meticulous sarcasm and a sense of clever wickedness, especially when it comes to her sharp tongue lashing out the most hilarious insults you’ll ever hear. Craine’s ability to nail the razor edged persona is a standout feat, and joining her on the performance path is every single other character, whether that be the fiery role of Miss Campbell herself (Lala Barlow), or the beyond creepy (and deadly inappropriate) teacher Clyde Toulon, played by Laurence R. Harvey, who many fans will recognise as the barbaric antagonist in The Human Centipede 2 (2011). 

Eating Miss Campbell is a stroke of much-needed absurd darkness amidst all the socially conscious films entering the market. Still, Regan’s enigmatic efforts in creating a boisterous display are not without its depth. In fact, underneath the veil of obscurity is a witty subtext that uses a brave and bashful temperament to comment upon the dramaticness seen within educational settings, which ranges from the brave but truthful idolism of school shootings, the influx in assault, and the arising generational divide pitting misaligned toxicity against one another. The sheer audacity of topics is a mouthful, but for hungry audiences with an appetite for contentious dispositions, Eating Miss Campbell is a dream! 

Check out the film and much more at this years festival, tickets here…