VIOLETT

Stars: Georgia Eyers, Angela Punch McGregor, Sam Dudley, Valentina Blagojevic, Simon Lockwood, Mani Shanks, Kingsley Judd, Jay Jay Jegathesan and Suzi Aleqaby.
Writer/Director: Steven J. Mihaljevic

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

VIOLETT is the Closing Night feature at The 2023 A Night of Horror International Film Festival. For session details, click here.

Steven J. Mihaljevic displays a true auteur’s vision in his second feature, the dark psychological drama Violett. A grieving mother spirals deeper into her own inner darkness when she employs familiar imagery from her missing daughter’s past to help cope with her misery. But the images she conjures are filtered through her rage and desperation, resulting in a nightmarish modern fairy tale that the Perth filmmaker presents in pitch black shadows, rich primary colours and brilliantly-realised bleakness.

As Sonya, the young mother struggling to define the line between shattered reality and corrosive insanity, Georgia Eyers delivers a star-making performance of achingly tangible anguish. Her face a pall of ashen anxiety, her eyes hollowed by corrosive sadness, Eyers (having worked with her director on his debut feature, The Xrossing) crafts a potent examination of guilt-ridden remorse. The actress has a lock on ‘shattered young woman’ roles at present, with her empathetic performance in Nick Kozakis’ Godless: The Eastfield Exorcism also gaining great notices.

Not unlike how Neil Jordan adapted the ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ story to evoke complex adult themes in his cult classic The Company of Wolves, so too does Mihaljevic borrow from dark fairy tale iconography to portray his take on Sonya’s grief. Most arresting of all his twisted visions is Jay Jay Jegathesan’s street artist monster ‘Victor’, fashioned on Australian kid-TV favourite Mr Squiggle. Also certain to haunt audiences is Simon Lockwood’s hideous The Candy Man, whose finger-food specialty is the stuff of nightmares.  

While not quite a ‘Keyser Soze’-size final reel rug-pull, Mihaljevic certainly shows a brazen confidence in how he plays out his narrative, in a move that adds further depth and dimension to his leading lady’s performance. The other key contributors are DOP Shane Piggott, whose emotive use of bold colour and sodden blackness is exquisite, and Australian acting legend Angela Punch McGregor, a towering presence in an all-too-rare big screen role.

MORBIUS

Stars: Jared Leto, Matt Smith, Jared Harris, Adria Arjona, Al Madrigal, Tyrese Gibson and Michael Keaton.
Writers: Matt Sazama and Burk Sharpless; based on the comic by Roy Thomas.
Director: Daniel Espinosa

Rating: ★ ★ ★

Despite the long hours that Sony Pictures have spent pumping life into the veins of their Marvel properties, the resulting films - whether box office behemoths like the Spiderman franchise or murky gunk like Venom - have, of late, been pretty crappy. It means that to non-comic types like your critic, the notion of having to first watch then conjure a few hundred words about Sony’s latest second-tier MCU anti-hero…well, I have hair to wash, too..

Wasting away in the grips of a degenerative blood disorder, Michael Morbius is driven to find a cure not just to relieve his own suffering, but to better the life of his friend, Lucien, aka ‘Milo’. They first form a bond as bed-bound boys under Dr Emil Nikols (Jared Harris), and remain chums into pained adulthood, where Morbius (a skeletal Jared Leto) becomes a Nobel prize-refusing researcher and Milo (played with menace, even when being nice, by Matt Smith) a couch-bound invalid.

It is the contention of Dr Morbius that vampire blood may hold regenerative properties and so, in a ship moored in international waters and alongside his loyal colleague Dr Bancroft (Adria Arjona), he instigates an experiment upon himself. And it works…kind of. The downside being that it transforms the doctor into a hunky vampire whose blood lust must be refreshed every few hours. Milo wants in on the new drug, but Morbius won’t allow his friend to suffer through the horrible side effects for a few hours of pain-free life. But Milo has his own ideas…

The most interesting aspects of director Daniel Espinosa’s film mirror those of David Cronenberg’s 1986 classic, The Fly. Vampirism as a form of body horror, the loss of one’s own physicality with an outcome that harms both the afflicted and those they love, gives Morbius a subtextual hook that adds to one’s investment in the good doctor’s moral journey. You have to search for it at times, given there’s not a lot of narrative meat on the Morbius bone, but the doctor’s connection to both Bancroft and Milo while still coming to grips with his new lethal self brings with it a compulsive watchability.  

Of course, it’s a comic-book trope as old as comic-books; while being questioned by Tyrese Gibson and Al Madrigal, playing the two dumbest detectives in film history, a blood-craving Michael scowls, “You wouldn’t like me when I’m hungry,” a pointed reference to the Bruce Banner/Hulk mythology from which Morbius is drawn. Jared Leto does as much with the duality of the character as asked of him, committing to make-up prosthetics and stepping aside for his CGI stand-in when required.

While the film won’t upgrade the property from that second-tier comic realm alongside the likes of Venom (or, for DC fans, Swamp Thing or The Shadow), there is a layered psychology to Morbius which may be further drawn out in future (and better) iterations. It is almost a shame that Morbius is tied to the Marvel universe at all, given that the inclusion brings with it franchise expectations that don't serve the character’s key traits at all.

STUDIO 666

Stars: Dave Grohl, Pat Smear, Taylor Hawkins, Rami Jaffee, Chris Shiflett, Nate Mandell, Will Forte, Jeff Garlin, Jenna Ortega, Whitney Cummings, Jason Trost and Marti Matulis.
Writer: Jeff Buhler and Rebecca Hughes, based on a story by Dave Grohl
Director: BJ McDonnell

Rating: ★ ★ ★

Foo Fighter fans get the 80s-style horror-comedy they’ve been screaming for Dave Grohl to make since NEVER with Studio 666. Yes, it’s a real movie and a pretty good one, as far as ‘possessed recording studio massacre’ movies go, and it’s in Australian cinemas for a limited time before heading to streaming, where you can watch it with mates between bong hits, as it should be seen.

The Foo-eys have a contractually obliged 10th album due and, no matter how much foul-mouthed record company CEO Jeff Garlin yells at them, they can’t get inspired to write some songs. So Garlin sets them up at a secluded mansion in Encino, hoping the long history of hits that have emanated from the site will rev up the group. But the mansion is home to more than just music history; it is a portal to demonic terror and soon Grohl is having nightmares about red-eyed entities, growing a gnarly set of fangs and killing bandmates in the most ridiculously gruesome way possible.

Everyone’s having fun, unburdened by any expectation that musicians need to be actors (there’s Will Forte, Whitney Cummings and, briefly, Jenna Ortega pulling acting duty). Mature-age men Taylor Hawkins, Nate Mendel, Pat Smear, Chris Shiflett, and Rami Jaffee are asked to channel ‘stupid teenagers’ in pulling off this lark, none more so the Grohl himself, who’s a funny, fierce leading man.

On the scale of ‘Rock Star Vanity Projects’, with The Beatles’ A Hard Days Night at one end and Neil Diamond’s The Jazz Singer at the other, Studio 666 falls somewhere in the middle, which’ll be good enough for the band’s fans. Gorehounds will dig the R-rated splatter, too; it’s all directed by BJ McDonnell, who last did the very bloody Hatchet III, which feels about right.

THE REQUIN

Stars: Alicia Silverstone, James Tupper, Deirdre O’Connell, Jennifer Mudge, Kha Mai and Danny Chung.
Writer/Director: Le-Van Kiet

Rating: ★ ★ ½

If you’re a stickler for detail (for the sake of this logically care-free film, I hope you’re not), the title should read ‘Le Requin’ - the full French pronunciation of ‘The Shark’. But why give an American film a French title? Or half-a-French title, for that matter? And why call it The Requin or Le Requin or The Shark at all…and then not shark-up for over an hour?

Which is not to imply that married couple Jaelyn (Alicia Silverstone) and Kyle (James Tupper) spend the first 60-odd minutes just being touristy (although they do that, too); they are recovering from their own watery tragedy, having lost a child during a home birth. Jaelyn has serious PTSD, especially on or near water, leading Kyle at one point to surmise that their seaside, tropical island suite was maybe not the best idea for a getaway-from-it-all destination.

It is off-season, which means monsoons, and soon their floating villa is ripped from its moorings and cast out to sea. While the dread of deep-sea predation is always present (unlike any form of rescue craft), it is the elements that pose the greatest threat. Jaelyn and Kyle go through the various stages of existential turmoil one would experience on a raft that was once your bedroom floor - panic, mostly, some bleeding, then accidentally setting fire to your bedroom-raft.

Tupper does all he needs to do on-screen as the wounded husband, but it is 90s it-girl Silverstone who leaves nothing on the acting table as Jaelyn. In partnership with her unmistakable stunt stand-in, she gets to go head-to-snout with sharks of various sizes in water depths prone to change mid-shot. Silverstone brings physicality and a great set of lungs to the more brutal moments, while capturing the grief and sadness of Jaelyn’s emotional ruin in small but effective scenes. It’s good seeing her back in a lead role, even if she gives more than the material deserves.

The alpha predator at the centre of the action is Carcharodon carcharias, or The Great White Shark. They don’t typically live in the tropical waters off the Vietnamese coast (tiger sharks and various breeds of reef sharks populate these regions), but we’ll let that slide. Spielberg did such a job on the shark’s image back in ‘75, flashing a close-up of that black eye (”like a doll’s eye”) is still the perfect cinematic shorthand for terror. The film does little else to earn it’s own sense of dread (unlike 2003’s Open Water or 2010’s The Reef) or provide the creature with some dimensionality (like 2016’s The Shallows), but as the latest sharksploitation riff, it works well enough.          

The Requin is Vietnamese director Le Van-Kiet dipping his toe (no pun intended) into the Hollywood industrial complex, after making a big splash (meant that one) with his 2019 festival hit, Furie, which was a great film. Aside from a few stock footage inserts of Hanoi streets and underwater wonderlands, his drama is staged in the tank space and against the green-screens of Universal Studios in Orlando. The ‘uncanny valley’ downside of CGI used to create that with which we are familiar takes a chunk out of key moments of suspense - the shark footage waivers from fleetingly convincing to…less so - but by minute 80, Kiet knows that his audience is in for les penny, in for les pound.

INFRARED

Stars: Greg Sestero, Jesse Janzen, Leah Finity, Ariel Ryan, Samantha Laurenti, Nicole Berry, Ian Hopps, Randy Nundlall Jr., Austin Blank, Robert Livings and Romulo Reyes.
Writers/directors: Robert Livings and Randy Nundlall Jr.

Rating: ★ ★ ★

Don’t let the internet naysayers convince any prospective viewer that the found-footage sub-genre has breathed its last breath. Of course it’s not soaring as it did in those halcyon years post-Blair Witch Project, but nor is it the minefield of mediocrity and derivation that keyboard commentators would have you believe. In the second half of 2021, Shudder’s anthology pic V/H/S 94, Banjong Pisanthanakun’s The Medium, William Eubank’s Paranormal Activity: Next of Kin and the French thriller The Deep House, from Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury, displayed technical invention and narrative beats that made the shaky-cam cliches feel fresh, all over again.

Add to the list of better-than-expected first-person shockers Infrared, a blackly-funny, legitimately creepy riff on paranormal investigation cable shows. Some may argue that the night-vision fakery and “Did you hear that?” silliness that is de rigueur for the format makes them low-hanging fruit for satire, but co-directors Randy Nundlall Jr and Perth-born expat Robert Livings smartly conjure frights and fun with this low-budget, hi-energy effort.

Jesse Janzen plays the charismatic ghostbuster Wes, whom we first meet expunging an evil spirit from a possessed young woman. He is the host of ‘Infrared’, a showcase for his talents that he hopes will make him a reality-TV personality. His sister Izzy (Leah Finity) shares the same spiritual connectivity but prefers a quieter life, servicing those who think their homes have unwanted ghostly presences. But Wes and Izzy don’t get along, falling out over “an exorcism incident’ several years prior.

Izzy and Wes are brought back together by ‘Infrared’ producer Randy (co-director Nundlall) when the opportunity to explore the supposedly haunted Lincoln School building is presented to them by Geoff, aka “The Owner’s Manual”, played with a typically focus-pulling energy by cult figure Greg Sestero. Destined to be forever known as ‘Mark’ in Tommy Wiseau’s The Room, Sestero is an always engaging presence and is called upon to do some feverish improv and ‘big character’ work as he guides the crew around the shadowy halls and abandoned classrooms.

There are hints that the building is more than it seems (Geoff continually refers to it as ‘her’ and ‘she’) and soon, even as they start to repair their fractious relationship, Izzy and Wes find themselves at its mercy. Janzen and Finity have great screen chemistry, their sibling energy convincing and crucial to making some familiar runnin’-&-screamin’ in the final act as involving as it plays out. 

In the hands of its young helmers, Infrared employs elements of the found-footage pic that are as old as handheld photography itself yet crafts them into an assured, refreshingly gore-free, gleefully good-time frightener. 

WITCHES OF BLACKWOOD

Stars: Cassandra Margrath, Kevin Hofbauer, Lee Mason, Susan Vasiljevic, Francesca Waters, Nikola Dubois, John Voce, Nicholas Denton and Francesca Waters.
Writer: Darren Markey
Director: Kate Whitbread

WITCHES OF BLACKWOOD will release day-and-date on September 7 on DVD and Premium TVOD, followed by a full digital release.

Rating: ★ ★ ★

Reaffirming the long held cinematic maxim that anyone who lives in a small country town has something horrible to hide, Kate Whitbread’s flavourful, female-focused ‘Australian Gothic’ chiller Witches of Blackwood spins a slow burn narrative steeped in dark memories and sinister secrets to increasingly potent effect. 

Cassandra McGrath stars as Claire Nash, a cop relieved of duty while the suicide of a young man (a terrific Nicholas Denton) in her presence is being investigated. A phone call from her Uncle Cliff (Brit actor John Voce) brings Claire home to the bush township of Blackwood; her dilapidated family home, scene to moments of mystery and menace in the past, needs tending. 

Despite its pretty eucalyptus backdrop, Blackwood is a soulless place, its streets empty but for a few sallow-eyed women, wandering aimlessly. Horrors begin to arise around Claire; gruesome animal remains, a blood-soaked woman in her bathtub, ethereal visions in the bushlands. As hinted at not-so-subtly in the US title (it was ‘The Unlit’ during its limited cinema season Down Under), the dark spirits that haunt Blackwood are emerging and tied directly to the legacy left by Claire’s family.

The first act of Darren Markey’s script hits character beats that establish Claire and her mental anguish, but meanders on its journey to Blackwood. The film finds surer footing as the spectre of the supernatural surfaces. McGrath plays ‘unravelling sanity’ well and the confluence of her past and Blackwood’s present gives the actress some emoting opportunities that don’t always arise in genre pics. The twist that bridges the ‘then and now’ and brings Claire’s journey full circle is as well-handled as any of M. Night Shyamalan’s recent efforts.

The on-trend ‘folk horror’ vibe, including the full extent of the coven’s bloodlust, delivers in gruesome detail. While it lacks the mythological backstory of Ari Aster’s Midsommar or warped psychology of Darren Aronofsky’s Mother!, the oppressive darkness that smothers the township and courses through Claire makes Witches of Blackwood an intriguingly nightmarish entry in the genre.

WEREWOLVES WITHIN

Stars: Sam Richardson, Milana Vayntrub, George Basil, Sarah Burns, Michael Chernus, Catherine Curtin, Wayne Duvall, Harvey Guillén, Rebecca Henderson, Cheyenne Jackson, Michaela Watkins, Glenn Fleshler.
Writer: Mishna Wolff.
Director: Josh Ruben

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

A proposed pipeline creates divisions within the small town of Beaverfield and a snowstorm traps its residents together inside the local inn, all within the zippy first act of Werewolves Within. The newly-arrived forest ranger Finn (Sam Richardson) and postal worker Cecily (Milana Vayntrub), must try to keep the peace and uncover the truth behind a mysterious creature that begins terrorizing the community in director Josh Ruben’s spin on that most precarious of sub-genres, the feel-good horror romp.

Keeping that peace is a lot harder said than done - just about everyone in the snowbound township has a beef with each other. Hillbilly mechanics, environmental scientists, nature-be-damned capitalists, conservative suburbanites and the only same-sex couple in the village end up stuck together in the cosy bed-&-breakfast, with not only a rampaging lycanthrope but also a gun-toting mountain man to deal with.

Ruben returned to his rural roots to tell this story; from the press notes, he grew up in the in and around a landscape just like the setting for Werewolves Within. He clearly loves this milieu and loves these characters, but he’s also got in scriptwriter Mishna Wolff (yep, that’s her name) a wordsmith that can supply the ensemble with crackling dialogue and a very funny, twisty narrative, the best of it’s kind since Knives Out.

Sam Richardson steps up to likable leading man status after his sidekick stints, notably in Veep, and he shares a lovely chemistry with the cherubic Milana Vayntrub. The small-town setting, trope subversion, expertly-etched bit players and zippy camerawork make this the best Edgar Wright film Edgar Wright didn’t make; it’d fit very nicely alongside any of the Cornetto trilogy, especially Hot Fuzz. 

In werewolf movie history, it’s got less hairy, bone-cracking transformation moments than classics like The Howling or An American Werewolf in London, but that seems deliberate; as the title suggests, Werewolves Within is less about the monster manifested and more about the beast within us all. On its own terms, it’s hugely enjoyable and certainly earns its place amongst the best of the genre.

CENTRAL PARK

Stars: Justiin A. Davis, Grace Van Patten, Deema Aitken, Ruby Modine, Guillermo Arribas, Michael Lombardi, Sarah Mezzanotte, Jordyn DiNatale, Marina Squerciati, Malika Samuel, Nicole Balsam, David Valcin and Justin Reinsilber.
Writer/Director: Justin Reinsilber

Now streaming in Australia and New Zealand on Fetch, iTunes, Google Play and YouTube.

Rating: ★ ★ ★

From the opening frames of Justin Reinsilber’s slasher redux Central Park, one senses that the writer-director knows his genre tropes to the letter. A gentle camera pan across the New York skyline, followed by a slow zoom into the lush, green lungs of the metropolis, the serenity of the images made boisterous by a grab-bag of ambient city sound effects...the year could be 1980, and Joe Spinell’s ‘maniac’ could be sharpening his scalpel just out frame.

Which suggests that Central Park is just another fanboy homage to those slice-and-dice VHS rentals, a film that would play just as well (probably, better) in the pan-&-scan format, peppered with snowy scratches growing deeper with every roll over an uncleaned VCR head. But feature debutant Reinsilber has several years worth of variations on the kids-in-the-woods narrative on his mind and drags his teen blood-bags into at least the first decade of the 2000s. His narrative references (many times over) the Bernie Madoff scandal and, in a heartfelt moment only a true New Yorker could fathom, an orphaned teenager’s grief over 9/11.

Beats more familiar with 90s-style ‘masked killer’ slashers (Scream, 1996; I Know What You Did Last Summer, 1997) provide the framework. The social standing of preppy rich-kid Harold (Justiin A. Davis) is taking a beating after it’s revealed his father has Ponzi-ed the hell out NYC’s wealthiest, most of whom have kids in H’s class. With his hot socialite gf Leyla (Grace Van Patten), her bestie Sessa (Ruby Modine), doper Mikey (Deema Aitken), third wheel Donna (Malika Samuel) and bro’ dude Felix (Guillermo Arribas), he heads deep into Central Park to smoke and drink his blues away.

The film’s raison d'être is to kill off the rich kids, of course, and there is some tension created in trying to deduce which of these brats will emerge mostly intact. To his credit, Reinsilber’s script has ambition’s beyond blood’n’gore (though visual and sound effects departments deliver in that regard); he weaves initially ambiguous subplots (a school teacher and his wife; two cranky veteran cops) into a third act resolve that has a genuine element of surprise. This extends to not one but two mysterious figures in the park, with their identities and motives intertwined, ultimately providing further moments of unexpected plotting. The ending plays like a franchise kicker, but not in the manner usually associated with slasher pics.   

Ironically, contemporary elements undo some of Reinsilber’s good work. Mobile phones play too big a part in plot developments, either found coincidentally or not used when they should be. Credibility is also stretched when one recalls that all this carnage is happening in Central Park, not the Appalachian Trail; running 50 feet in any direction means you’ll find a path, possibly some people, maybe a street. And when Nicole Balsam’s park patrol cop says it’s been a quiet night about 70 minutes into the film, one wonders where the f*** she’s been.

A final mention must be made of Eun-ah Lee’s cinematography, which recaptures the rich, dark shadows and warm colours of the New York City we know and love from when films were shot on film.

CENTRAL PARK - Trailer from Jinga Films on Vimeo.

BLACK WATER: ABYSS

Stars: Jessica McNamee, Luke Mitchell, Amali Golden, Anthony J. Sharpe, Rumi Kikuchi and Benjamin Hoetjes.
Writers: Ian John Ridley and Sarah Smith.
Director: Andrew Traucki

In select Australian cinemas from AUGUST 6; available on Blu-ray/DVD from SEPTEMBER 23 and early digital purchase from SEPTEMBER 16.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

Few filmmakers have committed themselves so determinedly to the ‘man-vs-beast’ horror subgenre as Andrew Traucki. From crocodiles (Black Water, 2007), to sharks (The Reef, 2010), to mythical leopards (The Jungle, 2013), the Australian director has taken barebone narratives and potentially stereotypical characters and crafted solid, occasionally gripping, nailbiters. Thirteen years after his debut film hit big internationally, Traucki returns to face off against the apex Australian predator in Black Water: Abyss, a terrifically effective sequel that exhibits what a masterful teller of suspenseful stories he has become.

His latest borrows from a certain ‘shark attack’ classic in establishing early on the fatal threat posed by his reptilian villain. A pair of lost tourists stumble into the lair of a saltwater crocodile and meet an ugly demise; just as with Spielberg’s Jaws, the fate of anyone that crosses the creature’s path is firmly etched in the audience’s mind from these opening frames. Working from an appropriately lean script by Ian John Ridley and Sarah Smith, Traucki then nimbly introduces his protagonists and establishes the dynamics, before getting them in the water quick-smart.

Hero-guy is Eric (Luke Mitchell), an outdoorsy, adventurous type who coerces his significant other, Jennifer (Jessica McNamee), into a caving trip in Northern Australia. Along for the material is their travel journo friend Viktor (Benjamin Hoetjes) and his up-for-the-experience girlfriend, Yolanda (Amali Golden), the party of four entirely under the laddish leadership of local guide, Cash (Anthony J. Sharpe). After blowing off a storm warning (“Nah, it’s headin’ south”), the group plunge themselves into an underground cavern system, an environment prone to a) flooding and b) tourist-eating reptiles.

It is in this enclosed environment that Black Water: Abyss spends most of its running time and really hits its stride, with Traucki and his skilled DOP Damien Beebe creating a vivid sense of geography and often nerve-jangling tension. The crocodile, its presence always felt, is only fleetingly glimpsed; one underwater sequence, during which an ill-fated character’s torch slowly reveals the creature laying in wait, it’s mouth agape, is pure nightmare material. 

There is no denying that crocodiles and alligators, with their ruthless carnivorous drive and prehistoric visage, make for great movie ‘bad guys’ (see, Alexandre Aja’s Crawl, 2019; Greg McLean’s Rogue, 2007; Steve Miner’s Lake Placid, 1999). However, animal lovers will appreciate that Traucki doesn’t go all out to demonise his crocodile co-stars (at least, not until the final confrontation), instead applying some science to explain their actions and treating them as wild animals merely doing what wild animals do. 

The pic benefits from solid acting across the board and a humanising subplot that adds just enough backstory to the four friends to distract audiences from guessing who’ll next be dealt the infamous ‘Death Roll’. Credit also due to Traucki and his writers for continually finding plausible ways to get the cast off that rock ledge and back in the water and to editor Scott Walmsley for his precise skill in clipping together some of the best jump-scares in recent memory.

EXORCISM AT 60,000 FEET

Stars: Robert Miano, Bai Ling, Bill Moseley, Lance Henriksen, Kevin J. O’Connor, Robert Rhine, Kyle Jones, Silvia Spross, Kelli Maroney, Matthew Moy and Adrienne Barbeau.
Writers: Robert Rhine and Daniel Benton.
Director: Chad Ferrin.

Rating: ★ ★

The premise of Exorcism at 60,000 Feet reads like the opening to an inappropriate gag your drunk uncle barks out at Thanksgiving dinner. “Did you hear the one about the priest, the rabbi, and the dwarf on a flight to VietNam…,” it begins and, before any of your relatives can wrestle the sad, sick family jester to the ground, he screams and spits his way through a waffling, weird, wildly offensive mess of a joke.

In genre-speak, Exorcism at 60,000 Feet is that most dangerous meld of film types - the horror-comedy, which implies a measured balance of chills and giggles. Director Chad Ferrin, who impressed a few years back with the bloody urban thriller Parasites, doesn’t nail either horror or comedy with any degree of inspiration or skill. With co-writers Robert Rhine and Daniel Benton having to share some of the blame, Ferrin pitches for Airplane-meets-The Exorcist, but crash lands well short of the destination.

Like a lot of good comedies, Exorcism at 60,000 Feet opens on the mass murder of a family. Robert Miano plays hardened padre Father Romero, who arrives too late to save the deceased but just in time to identify the evil entity as ‘Garvin’, the resurrected spirit of his army buddy from ‘Nam. For some reason, he needs to return Garvin to VietNam, booking passage on the ‘hilariously’ titled Viet Kong Airways, the offensive moniker only made worse by its anachronism - will the target audience of first-time pot-smokers even know what is being referenced?

On board, the spirit of Garvin (played in terrible make-up by B-movie icon, Bill Mosely) is possessing the passengers, each one a grossly painted caricature of such wannabe comic stereotypes as the roided-up bodybuilder (Luca Pennazzato); the middle Eastern ‘potential terrorist’ (Gino Salvano); the peace-seeking Buddhist (Craig Ng); the anytime/anywhere sexpot (Stefanie Peti); the other anytime/anywhere sexpot (Jin N. Tonic, who shows some comedy chops); and, the Soprano-esque goombah (Johnny Williams). Most unforgivably tasteless is the ‘Mommy with toddler’ passengers, featuring Kelli Maroney (cult favourite from 1984’s Night of the Comet) as the mature-age woman who breastfeeds her obnoxious son Dukie, played by little person actor, Sammy the Dwarf.

Romero teams with orthodox rabbi Larry Feldman (co-scripter Rhine) and the flight crew, Amanda (Bai Ling, playing to the back row) and Thang (an occasionally funny Matthew Moy), to battle the demon, which manifests as a cheap-as-chips ‘green mist’. Garvin’s victims suffer ugly fates to remind the audience this is a ‘horror film’ - clean-cut Brad (Kyle Jones) meets a grisly end while ‘mile high’ clubbing; phone-obsessed millennial Ms Tang (Jolie Chi) must deal with an unwanted demon-pregnancy; and so on. Ferrin earns points for securing the likes of Lance Henriksen (as Captain Houdee...geddit?) and Adrienne Barbeau (pictured, above) for day-shoots, but their involvement is wasted on parts that prove just what good sports they are willing to be to pay some bills. 

The influence of the Zucker-Abrahams 1980 classic is everywhere, most notably in composer Richard Band’s shameless rip-off of Elmer Bernstein’s classic score, but there’s none of the comic pacing or inspired performances that made Airplane so memorable (or The Naked Gun series, which Ferrin also apes). Instead, the humour is of the ‘punch down’ variety - easy, ugly potshots based on race, gender or religion - placing Exorcism at 60,000 Feet dangerously close to the shock comedy stylings of a film like Uwe Boll’s Postal (2007).

That said, praise is certainly due cinematographer Christian Janss, who skilfully mimics the frantic camera moves George Miller employed in his Twilight Zone The Movie episode, ‘Nightmare at 20,000 Feet’, and the effects team working under Joe Castro and Maricela Lazcano, who give exteriors shots of the plane careening through an otherworldly night sky legitimate authenticity.