We had an absolute blast at Dead Northern Horror Film Festival 2022! Take a look at some of the highlights from our award day 24.09.22.
Film makers and film fans grabbing a refreshment in between screenings.
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Moving on from the murder of her husband, Amanda (Jennifer Preston) and her teenage daughter, Karli (Isabella Percival) up and move to a tranquil bed and breakfast situated within the rural countryside. However, their tragedies are only furthered by the arrival of Kyle (Damien Ashley), a mysterious guest. Kyle begins to go into a downward spiral, haunted by a sinister force.
The Stranger tightly grasps onto the fragility of a broken family as a vessel for unearthly horror to seep through and thrive amidst the already brittle dynamics. Through unmatched writing that puts the audience through one of the most nerve shredding 80 minutes of their life, through to the startlingly graphic effects, The Stranger is a wickedly cruel feat that should not be missed.
The directorial team behind The Stranger is made up by Mike Clarke and Paul Gerrard, who respectively join forces to conjure a bone chilling tour de force that was entirely shot in the UK. Clarke’s keen eye for thrilling filmmaking is clear in many of his previous projects, including the acclaimed A Hand to Play (2013), which featured Hellraiser’s Doug Bradley, Paper and Plastic (2013), and Love’s Innocence Lost (2016). Gerrard is infamous for his originality, peppering dystopian, mind-augmenting themes throughout his work as seen in his conceptual designs for The Hole in the Ground (2019), The Dark and the Wicked (2020), and The Reckoning (2020).
Their track record of outstanding works is made even more prominent thanks to The Stranger, which helps lead the way for modern, indie horror. Every strain within the film, whether that be the mystifying visuals, the looming sense of dread, or the sensational performances by Ashley, Preston, and Percival, the film captivates.
The invasion of the body and space is a prodigious element in macabre cinema, with the threat of one’s annexe being claimed, alerting an immediate spike of worry in even the most tenured of audiences. The melancholic air of loss that Amanda and Kari emit due to their recent experience of death adds to The Stranger’s enigma, combating the refusal to follow in the footsteps of generic invasion movies with formulaic backstories. Instead, Clarke and Gerrard channel the unexpected at every approach possible. No matter what direction The Stranger insinuates, there’s always an unexpected corkscrew in the road.
The vigorous leaps and bounds that the film chronicles is assisted by the setting, atmosphere, cinematography, sound, lighting, and effects. The isolated restraints that the wilderness holds is a tool within its own right. Gerrard and Clarke fully take advantage of the vastness to further place the characters in an even more vulnerable state. Encapsulated by the camera that surveys the emptiness is the eerily dark tone that washes over the film like a grim shadow of death, straight away setting the mood for melancholy and menacing antics to prosper. As the film reaches the moment of truth, a barrage of sheer sensation, both emotional and psychical, of panic is unwillingly forced.
The Stranger is a symphony of horrific excellence, dominating the screen and marking its place as one of 2022’s most exciting features.
Check out the film and much more at this years festival, tickets here…
Beth (Kelly Lamor Wilson), like many twenty-somethings, has become obsessed with the capabilities of filters, however, the insidious truth lurking behind one particular filter leaves her to question what true beauty really is. Body dysmorphia on its own can be a horrifying experience, yet Nathan Crooker manages to even further flesh out the degrading internal policies that social media have created, exemplifying the alarming relationship between the digital era and perishing humanity. #Nofilter digs deep within its own message to question the beauty barriers whilst also conveying a keen sense of panic through the personal confines of desktop horror.
A photographer (Josefin Asplund) takes on an assignment to shoot a cemetery situated in the forests of Stockholm. Whilst capturing the beauty of the landscape, she sees an elderly woman (Karin Bertling) placing a lantern on a grave. To capture the moment she takes a picture, but she soon discovers that this one action will unleash a world of horror. Nature at heart can be both blissful and haunting. Niels Bourgonje understands the emotional balance that comes from rooting a narrative within the deadly sins of the unknown. Amongst the haunting story is the stunning cinematography that makes use of the natural setting, along with the melancholic score that compliments the intense themes and challenges the viewer.
In a dystopian future ruled by the power of social media, a pair of users are placed on trial via live stream to investigate their breaking of online guidelines. If they fail to convince the online jury of their innocence, their profiles will be horrifically deleted. The Black Mirror-esque setting is becoming more and more prevalent in modern society, ruling the online structure to be almost god-like. Mr. Valents toys with the worrisome power that socials hold, by escalating the diminishing sense of humanity and exposing the trivialities of online profiles. Ask Me a Question plays out as both a wickedly harsh warning tale and a satirical ploy that taps into looming fears.
A father (Tom Slatter) finally gets to sit down for the night, however, that all changes when the baby monitor starts picking up an unknown presence. Baby Monitor precisely envelops every aspect that makes a short horror film momentous, gripping, and most importantly terrifying. The minimalist approach that doesn’t go overboard on one-trick scares is what allows Stefan Parker’s entry to stand out, he refuses to reveal the ominous force straight away, instead, the film marinates in a complex certainty of terror that reaches a nerve-racking peak just when you’re not expecting it.
Just when a security guard (Edward Linard) thought his night couldn’t get any worse, an unexpected thief that looks exactly like him begins robbing his bank. Alia Sheikh delivers an action-packed tale of duplicity, sharp moral examinations, and what it means to doubt your own instincts. Overwrite cleverly examines the spiraling mind by positioning the viewer in a place of constant doubt where they remain anxiously waiting in the dark for the truth, whilst being emotionally and physically conflicted at every point due to the claustrophobic inducing score and the dynamic performance by Linard.
Check out the films and much more at this years festival, tickets here…
When a lazy student (Alexander Moriarty) refuses to take recycling seriously, the ‘rubbish’ comes back to haunt him. Bin Man both reminisces and reclaims the classic irreverent movie monster; reinventing the b-movie ingenuity that creates cult classics. Jack Berry ignites a fresh satirical flame for the short cinema paradigm, whilst still keeping Bin Man comical and thrilling.
Two evil forces battle over a woman’s (Adriana Torrebejano) unborn child, threatening all of mankind. 665 plays god with the audience, continuously shifting sides between the antagonistic forces. Throughout the bloody battle of mind games, fervent visuals, and graphic performances Juan de Dios Garduño’s talent for producing sheer ferocity is clear; not at one point does the terror bar lower, establishing 665’s positioning as a model short horror film.
After a strange and dark night, a witness to a bloody ritual begins to slowly lose their sense of reality. Gus Fink is known for his distinctive art that is in a class of its own, with the animations as seen in Odessa’s Riddle being both haunting and impossible not to admire. From the very beginning, the atmosphere is eerie and abnormal, paving the way for horror to ensue. However, just when you thought the freaky events have reached a peak another blood-curdling mountain is waiting ahead, leading to one of the most unsettling and certainly grisly endings that would give the devil himself nightmares.
Léo (Andrea Maggiulli) is reluctant to attend summer camp. When the time to go looms, an imitating sinister presence makes itself known. Colonie laments the fears that everyone subconsciously has. The mirroring of your identity represents your darkest self, where your most sordid opinions can arise to a reality that’s no longer hidden. Colonie tackles this heavy subtext with an air of ease, with the operatic score tiptoeing the edge of surrealism and the cinematography constructing a richness that embodies the complexities of a full-length feature.
One night a widowed man visits a medium to get down to the bottom of his disturbances, however, what they uncover is more than they had bargained for. Stop motion animation can be a home for atypical horror to thrive, with Joe Deadman’s take on a dreamlike seance being a pioneer within alternative filmmaking. The tangible essence of To Raise Her Spirits, particularly due to the supernatural aura, entrances due to the uncanny quality, whilst also keeping the entertainment factor high with the off-kilter humour moulding an outlandish experience that is impossible to forget.
When an antique dealer (Andrew Dunn) comes across a cursed penny, he ends up haunted by a hellish force that refuses to take no for an answer. With films such as Standing Woman (2021) and Zomblogalypse (2022) being just some of Tony Hipwell’s credits, it’s of no surprise that Bad Penny is the full ticket. The film gradually brews a lingering horror that refuses to give up, making the viewer wait in anticipation for a terrifying scare to be unleashed.
After years of abuse from her toxic partner, Marina (Eleanor Nolan) finally gets her revenge. Retribution takes its time in fleshing out a backstory to expound the treacherous territory behind Marina’s actions, before delivering a hardcore, harsh, and grungy climax that unveils an impactful soundscape and gnarly practical effects.
Check out the films and much more at this years festival, tickets here…
Searching for Veslemøy chronicles the greedy attempt to bring in fame and fortune by a self absorbed reporter through bringing a cold case back to life in a trick to desperately launch his career. However, when the dice begins to roll and eccentricity takes the stage, events soon turn south.
This upcoming found footage riptide comes from the creative mind of Leo X. Robertson. Robertson has been making an impact in all things media within recent years, with his work ranging from authoring novellas to founding the Stavanger Filmmakers Club all spelling an exciting future for the Scottish native. His previous feature Burnt Portraits (2021) surveyed harsh truths that unearth when the psyche is truly at its most vulnerable, leaving the viewer both unwinding the labyrinth of deep meaning behind the narrative whilst also being mystified over the naturalistic, gritty tone.
Searching for Veslemøy doesn’t fall into the trap of being a spiritual carbon copy of the directors previous work, instead, the innately authentic and perplexing journey that the film takes us on is entirely unique and very much unlike any feature currently on the market. Straight off the bat the film creates a warm welcome, thanks to the faux documentary element, with Robertson fully understanding and using the familiarity of home video style to lull us into a false sense of security. However, a horror is a horror; and like a Jack in the box, we sit sheepishly waiting for the mystery to untangle. As that tightly wound cord of tension that Robertson so carefully forms unravels, the narrative direction both deliberately bewilders and eerily reaches an unprecedented peak.
Permeating the film’s bleak, yet witty tonal complexities is the mockumentary format that by nature performs as if the events were captured as they happened, not only intensely involving the viewer, but also integrating a cold, harsh sense of realism that is bonded even further by Robertson’s off-kiltered script brimming with dark humour. In accompaniment of the bona fide expressionism are the performances that capture the curious and prying capabilities that come to the surface when a small town mystery arises. The range of talents from the likes of Tom Montgomery, Berit Rødsås, Rebekka Irene Skjæveland, Khonia Koushan, Raphaël Meurice, and Filip Haaland all excel in delivering that rarely reached level of legitimacy that sells the entire premise of a true story.
Robertson proves that he is not a one trick pony at all, with his filmography including Burnt Portraits and Searching for Veslemøy all dabbling in alternative themes and filmmaking methods, whilst keeping the dialogue uniquely exciting and the atmosphere tense and engrossing.
Check out the film and much more at this years festival, tickets here…
The brutal Australian outback may be dreamy to the eye, but underneath the sunny skies the elements are beyond deadly. Throw in a brutish, savage, hungry, ginormous pig hellbent on becoming a mean killing machine into the mix and you have Boar (2017), one of the best indie horrors in recent years.
Creator of Boar, Chris Sun has become a staple within the Aussie horror scene, thanks to his features including the gnarly Charlie’s Farm (2014) and the nerve trembling Daddy’s Little Girl (2014), and of course Boar, which single handedly lays a contentious path for copious bloodshed to pour, whilst also remaining a fastidious eco-terror that pushes the battle of man vs beast to whole new level.
As with many features, a finished product has to go through its fair share of twists and turns, with Boar being no exception. Phoebe Hart, expert in all things cinema, first met Sun at a panel in Brisbane, where Hart was immediately drawn to his ambitious pitch of creating an Ozploitation flick following a giant pig. From that moment on, Hart extensively captured the entire journey, from the early days of production through to the very end credits, shaping a documentary that was made for filmmaking newcomers and full on aficionados to fully capture the strenuous, but rewarding efforts that go behind independent cinema.
At times it seems with the encyclopaedic wide web at everyone’s hands that every topic, subject, figure, or question has been covered, yet Bloody Sun unveils a whole new faction of moviedom that interprets areas such as the tragedy facing modern practical effects and how Sun actively combats that through keeping handcrafted elements at large, ensuring that the creature itself remains the focus amidst all the big screen cameos (including Bill Moseley, Steve Bisley, and Chris Haywood) and the tribulations of financing, and just how much self dedication goes into a final product.
Check out the film and much more at this years festival, tickets here…
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…
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…
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…
