Fear Cabin: The Last Weekend of Summer does not simply toy with expectations with a horror-cum-cabin fright fest. Instead, it completely dismantles and excitingly remixes events, creating a wild ride that goes full throttle from beginning to end.
A motley crew of friends head out to a remote cabin in the woods for a weekend of fun, drinking and standard debaucheries; however, the trip soon turns far from ordinary when the group begins to experience a world of terror as an unexpected guest joins them.
Director Brian Krainson delivers a pure, bone-chilling tale that offers a lineup of assorted frights, from ghouls and entities that create bumps in the night, all the way to displays of witchcraft and devilry that mingle to summon a dense, sinister atmosphere that unleashes bouts of havoc throughout the deadly weekend trip. Ultimately, the film’s acts of portrayed evil acts as pathways for the various motifs to rip through and percolate the unsettling rhetoric. Whilst the film’s spirit is rife with a nexus of intricate themes such as survival, isolation and fragility amidst moments of ghostly fear and so forth, what Fear Cabin: The Last Weekend of Summer ensures is that it does not become excessively heavy with all of its dense threads.
Although the jolting horror antics take centre stage throughout the film, Krainson infuses touches of light humour and strong writing to balance the grave velocity of what is at play throughout the narrative. It’s for this reason that the characters remain multidimensional rather than just channels for horror to seep through. Accordingly, the film builds upon the robust character arcs that surface from the group’s dynamic, with the escalating sense of panic and dread fueling waves of tension as the reality of the horrifying situation evolves and reaches a menacing peak.
The suspenseful flow of mystery is made all the more ominous on account of the cabin setting, which almost becomes a character within itself. The quiet backdrop of a rural cabin immediately forbodes in response to how the solitude of isolation can highlight an uneasy hostility. For instance, as the haunting antics unravel, the group grapple with the vulnerability that such a remote setting in tune with nature and all of its dark history provides. There is no immediate safety net outside of a typical suburban brick-and-mortar, and classically (but nevertheless still spine-tinglingly sinister), no one can hear you scream!
Fear Cabin: The Last Weekend of Summer is a fresh take on a beloved haunted cabin story that pays homage to the quintessential beauty of eerie, lodge-based horror but with a distinct, innovative flair that speaks to Krainson’s stellar filmmaking capacities. The film’s nuanced approach has great fun in pulling the plug and wiping away what we expect, alternatively delivering high-impact, unexpected thrills that both provide ample shrieks as we jump during startling moments, as well as experience lingering spells of dread and horror, akin to a troubled haunting that has the ability to stand the test of time.
You can catch the film Friday 27th September at this years festival, tickets here!
The Blair Witch Project opens with the infamous title card announcing the disappearances of three student filmmakers. What follows is the discovered footage of what went on during the fatal trip, culminating in their mysterious and unexplainable vanishings. Legend has it, the trio’s bodies have never been found…
In 1993, film students Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez began to recognise a pattern – they found documentaries on the paranormal far surpassed the fear factor staged by traditional horror cinema. After years of passing the idea of a scripted supernatural documentary around, they (along with Gregg Hale, Robin Cowie and Michael Monello) started the production company ‘Haxan Films’, which, for those who picked up on this detail, yes, Haxan comes from the infamous docu horror Häxan (1922).
With the production company garnering a small money pot from producing corporate and commercial videos, the crew set ahead to get the ball rolling on the long-awaited pseudo-documentary. The premise of something strange, dark and mysterious being real, particularly within its presentation, is terrifying.
Fiction is escapable and, more often than not, non-threatening past the screen. However, the immersive, replicative, and first-hand perspective of vérité cinema can provoke the viewer to suspend their belief and mediate reality into the fictitious narrative. Whilst the contemporary commonality of reality-coded horror falters the chances of the cinematic events being perceived as real, in 1999, this was groundbreaking and convincing to audiences. As such, Myrick and Sánchez weaponised the diegetic camera brilliantly utilised by previous filmmakers such as Shirley Clarke, Ruggero Deodato and Satoru Ogura and created one of the most infamous horror movies of all time.
At the start of production, the focus characters, Heather Donahue (now Rei Hance), Michael C. Williams and Joshua Leonard, were all informed that this was not an archetypal experience. The screenplay was 35 pages long, but the content was more stage directions, with the directors opting for the dialogue to materialise from improvisation. The footage was primarily shot by the three characters on a Hi8 camcorder, enhancing the amateur feel and consequently embedding the sense that these personalities on screen are genuinely filming a documentary. Further detaching the cast from the facets of their actions belonging to a broader project is the actions of genuine contention arisen by the crew behind the scenes.
As the actors would essentially be left alone to record the loose script, the cast would be given clues as to where their following location would be via secret messages located inside 35mm film cans. This would often lead to the trio becoming lost and hostile with one another about their directions. A few of these squabbles were left in the final cut of the film but cut around to match the context of being lost amidst the horror of the plot. The directing duo would also make the characters traverse extensive journeys throughout the day, heightening the already low mood and making them irate. As one last push to both blur the lines of fiction and reality and weaponise what the filmmakers coined ‘method filmmaking’, when the night drew close, and the cast could unwind, the crew would show up unannounced and play creepy pranks, all before whittling down their food supply each day.
The sick, twisted, and undoubtedly cruel tactics resulted in raw footage that, regardless of the scripted mythos of witchery, was an authentic portrayal of people reaching the brink, hitting their peak and unleashing wraths of turmoil and anger over the dreaded scenario. With such a defiant approach to achieving the filmic goal, it is no surprise that the immediate reception was primarily one of praise, with many outlets applauding the innovativeness and ‘less is more’ approach towards the antagonistic force.
On the other hand, the media also reported on the buzz the film received at its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival (1999), where audience members were fainting and vomiting at the dizzying handheld, motion-sickness-provoking cinematography. However, as any horror fan knows, festival drama and antics over the gruesomeness of horror is a good sign of quality gnarly, horrid and shocking filmmaking. As the film’s now notorious reception was building, a secondary force of conversation was budding amongst audiences.
A key detail in The Blair Witch Project’s reputation is its marketing campaign. Prior to the premiere, the film launched a website which featured fake police reports and newsreel-esque interviews seeking to find the ‘missing’ students. However, the most ‘alarming’ snippet showcased a missing poster of Heather, Michael and Josh, complete with the standard height, age and weight typical to a genuine missing person flyer.
It was one thing that the film purported its diegesis to be one of pure authenticity, but if there were any ‘unconvinced’ spectators were not buying the ‘truth’, Myers and Sánchez would keep up the act off-screen, pretending that the film’s festival screenings were motivated by wanting to get the message out there about the disappearances; even going as far to distribute print outs of the missing poster to audience members. The final flourish regards how the official IMDB page listed the performers as “missing, presumed dead”! Although the internet did not have the colloquial sharing aspect nailed to a fine art in terms of sharing and speculating as it does today, the film managed to go ‘viral’.
It took Myrick and Sánchez seven years from the initial idea to the premiere at Sundance, proving that whilst independent cinema can involve intensive labour that is a marathon, not a sprint, indie horror can turn passion and creativity into payoff. In the last twenty-five years, The Blair Witch Project’s reputation is still thriving, with the film spawning comic books, video games and two sequels, Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2 (2000) and Blair Witch (2016), as well as an array of parodies, including the criminally underrated Scooby Doo Halloween Special – The Scooby Doo Project (1999).
What comes with such notoriety is a sense of familiarity. Even if a non-horror fan were to come across imagery from the film, they would immediately recognise where the callback originated. It could even be said that those who have never seen the movie can distinguish the continuous references made to the film in pop culture. Think of the infamous extreme close-up of Heather trembling with fear, looking straight into the lens, essentially saying her goodbyes, or the shot of Mike standing, staring at the wall as if in a trance, with Heather screaming bloody murder in the background.
The Blair Witch Project is akin to a landmark, standing proudly in a brimming genre, with its history and legacy granting it a place against all of the greats before and many of the classics yet to come.
You can catch the film Friday 27th September at this years festival, tickets here!
Written and directed by Michael Houston King is Lake Jesup, which brings back the rip-roaring, ultra-violent and brutal creature feature. This monstrous exploration chronicles the havoc wrecked upon Jesup City, Florida, circa 2003 as a deadly alligator named Bonecrusher escapes from its home at Gator Galaxy, owned by the greedy Angus Sullivan (Jeff Benninghofen), who is content with the missing, colossal reptile as long as he is profiting off of the mayhem. The increasing body count reaches headline news as the people of Jesup City are killed off one by one, leading Mayor Sam Neuhauser (Houston King), along with Jim Fisher (Essex O’Brien), the city’s Fish and Wildlife Commissioner, to bring in the only man skilled enough for the deadly job, ex-convict and ‘gator hunter Bubba Coggins (Derek Russo).
The film’s namesake and inspiration originates from the real Lake Jesup, located in Seminole County, Florida, known as one of the most alligator-infested lakes in the U.S., with the estimated number of species being upwards of 13,000. The terrifying quantity is thanks to the draining of Floridian wetlands in the late 1960s to make room for the tourist infrastructure, resulting in thousands of alligators having to be moved to the shallow backwater swamp of Lake Jesup. As the title card rightly affirms, the term ‘moved’ or ‘rehomed’ is too gentle; in reality, the creatures were “displaced and dumped like trash”. This element of being treated as refuse, disposing of ‘problems’ for the sake of profit and greed is precisely what the film so brutally, effectively and movingly captures.
Whilst the on-screen gator-mania is a pure rollercoaster of thrills, exciting and ferocious kills and energising sequences of bloodied waters, what Lake Jesup does is unveil a layered subtext to the plot that reveals an emotional story of monopolising tragedy. No nitty gritty spoilers below, but as the film progresses, it is clear that Bonecrusher’s fugitivity exposes the harsh reality of the characters. Subsequently, as Houston King evidently knows, a stellar lineup of performers is essential to flesh out the comprehensive story.
Lake Jesup’s lead and bayou huntsman, Bubba, played by the commendable Russo, is equipped with a brilliantly dark yet incredibly traumatic backstory that provides plenty of ample moments for Russo’s raw talent to shine through as the audience is witness to his portrayal of a man willing to do anything to fight for his and his family’s freedom. Equally praiseworthy is Houston King himself, who plays the Mayor desperate to get reelected for another four. Joining the cast is the seedy Gator Galaxy owner Angus Sullivan, who plays a corrupt business owner like no other. The contextual-heavy plot shines at the hands of its actors, who truly act as the ideal vessel for the delicate and narratively rich film.
The spirited Lake Jesup is further glazed with an abundance of stellar cinematography. Endless shots of lush green landscapes, bodies of muddied water, images of characters deep in contemplation, and the impressive angles of alligators in their various habitats all radiate on the screen, transporting the viewer from their position right into the depths of Lake Jesup. Not to be overlooked is how the film interprets its thematic palette against the aesthetics within the visuals. The dense swampland that features throughout is quaint on the surface, but underneath the facade of serenity and stillness of the water lies trouble, lying in wait to cause destruction. Similarly, this embodies what Bubba is made to endure, with his liberty being at stake if he does not capture Bonecrusher before it is too late.
This engaging, riveting and arresting independent horror is not simply an unmissable feature, it is a surefire crowd pleaser that starts conversations, prompts powerful reactions and will have you wanting more.
You can catch the film Sunday 29th September at this years festival, tickets here!
Bursting with tales of losing control and challenging reality, all entwined with a hint of familial trauma and ladened with a haunting gothic aesthetic that bodes stunning imagery and a grippingly tense atmosphere is Sophie Osbourne’s The Monster Beneath Us.
Yorkshire, England, 1898, sees Lord James Abbington (Jack Forsyth-Noble) of Doloridge House turn a gun onto himself, leaving his wife Grace (Becca Hirani) and their son Charles (Marshall Hawkes) to leave the bustling city of London and return to the quiet countryside to settle affairs. However, they soon realise that they are not alone inside the grandiose manor as Charles develops a strange bond with a mysterious entity below the house.
Writer and director Sophie Osbourne shows no qualms in creating valiant horror that shies away from the bold and sharp barbaricness of slashers and body horror. Alternatively, the film opts for a tremendously eerie slow-burn aura that creeps up on the viewer one haunting moment after the other before completely enveloping you into the maddeningly nightmarish world that is meticulously crafted throughout this British horror. The Monster Beneath Us’ cunning ability to rouse great terror inch by inch is a testament to the film’s sundry charms, from the evocative performances and the thoughtful milieu of designs that echo the time period all the way through to the atmospheric soundscape that conspires with the harrowingly toned cinematography. Take the first act as an example; at this point, whilst we expect malevolence and understand the ominous threat of the situation, Osbourne ensures that we are not entirely privy to the full extent of the torment just yet – essentially, the film knowingly hoodwinks us, throwing any chance of predictability far away.
Simultaneously, as the intricate and complex story unravels, the screen brims with scenes lit with a glow reminiscient of the film’s 1800s zeitgeist, adding to the visually arresting gothic pathos that screams darkness, melancholy, romanticism, tragedy and a plethora of other fantastical elements that The Monster Beneath Us utilises. Further saturating the film with an air of suspense is the array of performances put on display, namely lead Grace Abbington, portrayed by the excellent Becca Hirani, who slips into the cleverly written role with commendable ease.
Last but not least, in the long line of ovation is The Monster Beneath Us’ setting. It is no secret that British horror is remarkable, particularly when it comes to shadowy, macabre period pieces due to the naturally eerie forestry settings and longrunning folklore, with The Monster Beneath Us skillfully adopting this first element. Yorkshire is alive with countless landmarks, woodlands and, of course, ‘The Moors’, which in the light of genre cinema can provide atmospheric tones of gloominess, a cold, distinct dusk where expressive and powerful ghostliness can creep in. Consequently, the film that has an equal measure of the visual uncanny and a spectral uneasiness that is typically hard to capture on screen.
The Monster Beneath Us artfully moves the goalposts of what one is to expect when entering the world of a monstrous story. The result is a film that delves deep under the surface and extracts themes of grief, alienation and despair to conjure a narrative that is persistently vast and one that makes The Monster Beneath Us a horror that deserves a place on a watchlist.
You can catch the film Sunday 29th September at this years festival, tickets here!
The Healing makes two things clear: be careful who you trust, and be careful of what you trust. This tense and unnerving descent into chaos is an exercise into the dark underbelly that seedily lies amidst seemingly tranquil and ‘healing’ situations…
The film follows Lyuba (Alyona Mitroshina), who, in a bid to escape from her abusive relationship to Sergey (Vyacheslav Chepurchenko), heads off to a weekend retreat with her friends Sveta (Victoria Skitskaya) and Zoya (Ekaterina Solomatina). The retreat seems warm and welcoming at first, a chance for Lyuba to distance herself from her troubles; however, when she becomes anxious and starts hallucinating and wants to leave the increasingly strange retreat, Lyuba fears that what’s waiting on the outside is far worse.
Troublesome woes of domesticity are trickled through The Healing with an appropriateness that gives credence to the gravity of the situation. As Lyuba’s experiences with Sergey are revealed, it becomes clear that matters such as unsettling manipulation and loss of autonomy are central to the film’s effectiveness. The Healing joins the likes of Silent House (2011), Midsommar (2019) and The Invisible Man (2020), where scenes showcasing the erosion of reality speak to underlying concepts that arise from traumatic relationships. Whilst the magnetisation of horror and terror play prominent roles in keeping The Healing entertaining, what director Den Hook ensures is a level of sincerity and solemnity in showcasing such an emotionally deep and courageous film.
Adjacent to the intense core of The Healing is the film’s isolated setting, which is almost a character within itself. The remote destination of the retreat replicates an intense feeling of remoteness, which outwardly represents the serenity that such a supposed haven should have. Yet, the vast openness of untamed woodlands teeming with towering trees and sweeping landscapes exploits the psychological paradox of the film. The seemingly endless spaces of land harness a form of affective, emotional claustrophobia, where despite the purported freedom of the sanctum, there is an evocative sense of inescapable surveillance from both Lyuba’s introspective visions and the followers from the retreat.
The Healing elevates the already powerful ambience through its parading of subjective reality with the assistance of Lyuba’s intense visions, which she experiences throughout the film. The film often wears a cognisant coat by virtue of Lyuba’s apparitions that embody both a sense of fantasia, alongside startling spells of disorienting horror. The amalgamation of surrealism and unsettling horror lines the film’s double edged sword, with the almost ethereal-like illusions drawing the viewer in, only to stun and disconcert when the reveries quickly become dark, crazed and twisted.
The combined powerful cerebral knowingness of the narrative and the aesthetically striking nature of The Healing works to create a richly detailed and rigorous end product in its means to engage, alert and disturb.
You can catch the film Saturday 28th September at this years festival, tickets here!
Drowning in sordid secrets and lies, hellbent on delivering devilish antics and driving tension to a delightfully unbearable peak is Kill Victoria.
This thrilling rollercoaster follows a group of friends composed of couples Paula (Sara Canning) and Pete (Michael Xavier), Jacky (Gia Sandhu) and Nigel (Robin Dunne), along with the incessantly single Nick (Aaron Poole). The familiar dynamic soon changes when Nick finally becomes engaged to Victoria (Laura Vandervoort). Upon the group’s chemistry changing with Victoria’s arrival, the foursome begin joshing as to how they would kill Victoria in order to get prior-engaged Nick back. However, when the whole group departs on their annual weekend trip, secrets arise and trouble begins as Victoria uncovers a horrifying secret that changes the course of their lives forever.
This wickedly devious film weaponises an iceberg approach, where the surface level is host to a barrage of entertaining and gripping sequences filled with edgy escapades and enthralling twists and turns. However, diving beneath the exterior reveals various levels of sophisticated plot points that work to meticulously craft a fleshed out, complex piece of cinema. Beginning with the peripheral factors: Kill Victoria equips a vivid visual palette that truly captures director Robin Dunnes (who also stars as Nigel) and cinematographer’s Justin Yaroski’s talents of creating a world that immerses the viewer into the compelling nature of the film.
For instance, throughout Kill Victoria, the camera often shows Individual close up shots of each character in moments of contemplation and understanding, piecing together the gravity of the situation they find themselves in. Not only do these moments of individualism look absolutely stunning with the almost Chiascuro-esque lighting burning a sense of emotional intensity onto the screen, but it also speaks to how the film unveils the uncomfortable reality of self-serving relationships.
Dunne, also serving as the writer, took inspiration from his own life experiences to write the script, with him brilliantly, boldly, and bravely being open about how his own encounters with past relationships helped form the basis for the film. In Dunne’s director statement, he notes how a partnership in his mid-twenties resulted in his friends and family drawing back from him, not because of disdain, but because he had changed at the hands of his kinship. In a beautiful way that is admirable from Dunne, this film replicates a universal experience that many will appreciate as a life lesson, a plight that touches on themes of personal-centeredness, self-doubt and the lies that we tell ourselves that twist and conform until they resemble the truth.
Such a dense film relies on the vitality that excellent performances provide. In the case of Kill Victoria, this entirely true. Every single actor thrives in this dramatic character study, employing dimensionality to their on-screen personas and perfectly portraying gutsy yet hearty characters. Coupling this is the film’s applaudable way that it slowly reveals its true colours. Not everything is laid bare and spelled out, alternatively, we are slowly fed information piece by piece, building a slow burning tension that erupts when the real ferocity of the story is revealed.
Kill Victoria is an intricate and nuanced piece of genre cinema that will continually leave the audience guessing and wanting more, leaving a lingering mark on the lucky viewers.
You can catch the film Sunday 29th September at this years festival, tickets here!
Scopophobia: the daunting fear of being watched. This anxiety-inducing sense of being eyeballed by someone or something is what filmmaker Aled Owen’s feature chronicles and captures throughout the intense, cryptic and thrilling Scopophobia.
Rhiannon (Catrin Jones), Erin (Emma Stacey), Mia (Ellen Jane-Thomas) and Sam (Bethany Williams-Potter), a once tight-knit group of friends, reunite in their home town of Milton, Wales, ten years after tragedy struck the group. However, amidst the merriment of the reunion, secrets arise, and terror ensues.
This grassroots horror feature is an independent horror in every respect. From the fundraising campaigns to the budding cinema-centric crew (all of whom are a group of passionate, talented individuals), along with the production being filmed on home soil, is all part of what makes Scopophobia the authentic, creative horror it is. The film weaponises the freedom that comes with indie filmmaking, with Scopophobia flaunting an innovative remixing of traditional narrativisation, throwing viewers onto the unbeaten path more than once, conjuring masses of grippingly suspenseful sequences where riveting unpredictability thrives.
The rampant twists and turns are best kept stowed away until the lucky viewer watches them unravel on the big screen. As a rule of thumb – leave any expectations at the door and enjoy the electrifying ride from start to finish.
Just one of the many ways Scopophobia excels is the film’s epic scoring. Featuring throughout is a powerful synth-focused sound, mixed with a pulsing beat that is reminiscent of that nostalgia-driven 1980s sound, but without being an imitation. In fact, the music has an entirely original undertone that compliments Scopophobia’s organic distinctiveness.
This retro but futuristic style was produced and composed by Welshmen Lloyd Morgan, also known as DJ Keltech, whose noteworthy arrangements work to propel the electrifying film to an even higher level. Joining the soundtrack is GG Fearn, a dark pop musician whose shadowy, Celtic-driven songs permeate Scopophobia and provide a source of punchy, haunting and baroque flair to the film.
Both artists were found either through previous connections or social media, which speaks to the entire homegrown quality that Scopophobia rightly prides itself on. The film is heavy on its regional talent, with many of the cast, like the sound artistry, being acquaintances in some form prior to filming.
Scopophobia’s female driven cast with fleshed out, complex characters, gnarly (and unbelievably gory) practical effects, powerful scoring, immensely captivating visuals and directorial dynamics all amalgamate together to create one hell of a horrifying and wicked elixir pot that is a testament to the brilliance of independent horror filmmaking.
Catch the film Saturday 28th September at the 2024 festival, tickets and details here.
The Stickman’s Hollow resembles a multifaceted labyrinth, feeding its complex story bit by bit, acting like a serpentine. It is the slow feed of a terrifying story, the intricate weaving of eerie details and the intimate mode of filmmaking that make this found footage horror unmissable.
The film chronicles three connected chapters following a series of people who learn the hard way about the mysterious and horrific truth behind the terrifying ‘Stickman’s Hollow’, a seemingly quaint lake that brings about hell for anyone who dares to trail its path.
Writer and director Jack Cox is an expeienced filmmaker who began his years behind the camera working on small-budget cinema with New Horizons, the Roger Corman founded company, before moving onto a successful career in animation. Having spent years in the animation field, Cox has traversed back to horror, and with The Stickman’s Hollow, its evident that the horror genre will be all the better for it.
The film’s ambitious premise of dissecting the lore of ‘The Hollow’ into three parts, is part of what grants the outcome as being a standout piece that thrives in originality. In other words, not at one single moment does the threat of a predictable ending arise. The first of the triptych-like structure follows a young family who venture off camping, settling at the ominous Stickman’s Hollow for some recreational fishing, however, it’s not long before strange whisperings and disturbing events culminate into an almighty finale.
The second entry takes us on the journey of a priest who is tasked with treating the roots of a family whose daughter appears possessed, which ends in a genuinely startling, fierce tragedy, and a series of questions as we begin to piece together the enigma behind the ‘urban-legend-esque’ terror of The Stickman’s Hollow. As the film nears its boiling point, we are delivered the third and final act that boldly connects the three episodes, and offers a gut-punch of an ending that leaves you craving more and more of this striking horror.
Composing the heart of the film is all of the plentiful mystery, mythology and lore, which is made all the more effective due to its detailed backstory. The Stickman’s Hollow is based on a chilling true story from Cox’s childhood of girl who became lost in the local Vancouver woods. And the story goes… the lost child was presumed to be dead, but after a year had passed there were reported sightings of a feral child roaming the forest and eating the remains of animal carcasses. Found near the spotted sightings were strange carvings of male figures, which all point to sinister misdeeds.
Whilst The Stickman’s Hollow is a fictional story, Cox based the tale on the countless, spine-chilling questions that arise when one thinks of a story of such calibre. What happened to the missing girl? How did the carvings come about? And why do missing persons cases in the backwoods go unsolved? Fictional or not, this is nightmare fuel!
Amplifying the intensity is the fact that the filming location is that of where the backstory occurred, conjuring a level of dread that is often difficult to capture on screen. Adding to the unease felt is the film’s found footage fashion that immediately immerses and stirs a level of uncomfortable immediacy. The suspense brought forth, the anxiety formulated and the foreboding alarm mould together throughout this noteworthy expedition into The Stickman’s Hollow.
You can catch the film Friday 27th September at this years festival, tickets here!
All This Time chronicles the infinite time loop that Grace (Emily Rose Holt) has found herself trapped in. Joined by an elusive vampire, Elias (Dan de Bourg), Grace must unravel a string of veiled secrets to escape the treacherously eerie time glitch and return to normality.
Writer and director Rob Worsey delivers a standout, complex and thought-provoking second feature that, alongside his zombie-themed feature debut, Among the Living (2022), proves that Worsey is a talent to be watched. Worsey’s uncanny ability to stir tension and assemble well-crafted scares that linger like a troubling night-terror are at an all-time high throughout All This Time.
The film dabbles in equal amounts of trepidation, theatrical drama, and gothic horror to form an unholy trinity of emotively triggered fear. For instance, as we see Grace come to terms with the disturbed histories that lie in wait, not once does the film become gimmicky in its scares; instead, bouts of unease are stirred, and waves of darkness are weaponised, collectively espousing a film that is as tonally rich as it is visually impactful.
As teased above, All This Time is steeped in a gothically minded atmosphere where the isolation of grandness meets a shadowy, stunningly designed sense of unmistakable dread. In its iconographical form, All This Time employs its grandiose setting, impressive costume design and haunting, moody lighting to showcase its gothic roots, which all combine to create a film that is worthy of watching with the volume off just to absorb the sheer ‘look’ of it all.
Matching the mysterious ambience is the film’s brilliant performances from the likes of Rose Holt and de Bourg, alongside the excellent Emma Pallant. Independent cinema has a habit of bringing about the most spiffing of exhibitions of talent, with All This Time being no exception to this rule. Throughout the entire runtime, the executions are all acted out with such compelling authenticity that draws the audience in and has them hanging on to every last word.
Shifting onto the horror elements, All This Time makes use of its groundhog-like narrative to conjure a sting of anxiety that innately wizzes up an unnerving sense of being trapped, contained and unable to make sense of everyone and everything.
On a theoretical plane, this inability to flee has the power to be suffocating and grim, but Worsey boldly propels this notion by infusing a vampiric spin. Fanged fiends, bloodsuckers, ‘The Count’, Dracula – however these immortal creatures have been cinematically developed before, All This Time, decides to take a unique spin on the vampire tale through its utilisation of a character-study based approach to storytelling. Keeping spoilers tightly under wraps – what can be commended is how the film continuously toys with the motives of the characters. Rarely do we know what to believe and who to trust throughout the running enigma of it all.
In total, All This Time will both move and provoke, pervade and resonate. Ultimately, this is not a film to be missed.
You can catch the film Friday 27th September at this years festival, tickets here!
Directing duo Alix Austin and Keir Siewert deliver a gnarly, grotesque, and emotionally raw feat of tainted love, where body horror and a cerebral narrativisation collide together to create the must-see ‘Kill Your Lover’.
Strained couple Axel (Shane Quigley Murphy) and Dakota (Paige Gilmour) have long lost the passion that oozed from their early days together; with Dakota now desperate to break free and put an end to her partner’s controlling hold. However, whilst on the cusp of delivering him the bad news, Axel falls ill with a monstrous infection, one that spews poison, splinters skin and turns its host into a corrosive mess – and worst of all…it’s contagious.
From the initial setup right up until the credits begin to roll, the entire film is slick with an uncomfortable sense of intimacy. Intimate through its nature of chronicling a toxic relationship. Intimate through its portrayal of up close and personal graphic body horror, and intimate in how it feels as if we have been positioned to voyeuristically gaze like a fly on the wall as Dakota and Axel experience the terrifying motions of their damning monstrosity.
The private, immediate view the audience experiences feels disturbed, as if we are that of a prying eye. It is this precise dark, troubling anxiety that makes Kill Your Lover’s stirring approach so effective. As much as the film is a splattery gore fest, Austin and Siewert manage to penetrate the layers of fleshy horror and create a tone that is ripe with metaphors into destructive, venomous kinship and feeling inescapable dread at the hands of someone you once used to unconditionally love.
The film’s continuous lashings of affective energy also transfers itself into the sophisticated aesthetic that manages to balance obscure bloodiness whilst not faltering to unwarranted butchery – which for a film of such calibre would take away from the complex emotive aura. For instance, as the film escalates to the point of sheer horror-filled pandemonium as the treacherous infection spreads, an array of brilliant effects come to fruition. The makeup and design is gruesome, ghastly and macabre in the most unique way possible. The gravity of the fearsome visuals is made all the more nightmarish at the hands of the crafty and powerful performances from leads Gilmour and Quigley Murphy, both of whom excel at portraying depthful, intricate and complicated characters.
Kill Your Lover is a standout feature that speaks to the creator’s exhilarating storytelling talents. From Austin’s incredible short horror ‘Sucker’ (2022), to Siewert and Austin’s team effort on the anthological entry ‘It’s Inside’ in Isolation (2021), it is a sure thing that this duo is one to watch.
Catch the film Saturday 28th September at the 2024 festival, tickets and details here.
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