Seven years after fleeing his Alaskan hometown, prodigal son Rowan (James Marsden, X-Men: Days of Future Past) returns, only to step in a big ol’ mess of animal instincts. “Would that,” you ask, “involve going Into the Grizzly Maze?” To that query, I respond rhetorically (and obviously), does a bear shit in the woods?

His estranged brother, Beckett (Thomas Jane, Deep Blue Sea), among them, the local po-po are busy investigating deaths in the forest caused by a giant grizzly, “portrayed” by an actual bear whose billing sits higher than co-star Billy Bob Thornton. Beckett needs Rowan’s help in retrieving his wife (Piper Perabo, Looper), who’s not only oblivious to being in danger because she’s taking nature photos at the time, but also because she happens to be deaf, thereby greatly upping her chances of becoming one super supper of all-white meat. (Admit it: It’s weird the grizzly has more lines than the damsel in distress.)

Hired by the sheriff’s department, Thornton’s straight-faced bear tapper sums up the situation at hand — and, by extension, the entire film: “This isn’t your average bear. It’s a clever bear. … You’ve never met a bear like this before. … I’m just tellin’ ya.”

What he doesn’t tell ya is that this wilderness thriller plays like a high-gloss, kitsch-stripped update of William Girdler’s 1976 cult hit Grizzly, which itself was a furry take on Jaws for the Cabela’s crowd. While adept enough at staging suspense, director David Hackl seems more interested in ending each set piece with an act of gore, each so wet and lingered upon that they would not be out-of-place in Hackl’s previous film, Saw V. Because these bits are largely (and admirably) practical rather than digital, they convince enough to wince; same goes for the clawed beast serving as Maze’s maker of mayhem.

Although unlikely to leave any lasting impressions, the movie is absorbing as a paper towel dropped on the puddle of dog urine found on the dining room floor, but without applying pressure: not ideal, but works for the time being. —Rod Lott

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Angst has bounce. That’s because for some of the running time, the camera is attached to the German-language film’s lead character. A certifiable psychopath, he’s not the kind of person to whom you would wish to be so close.

Played by Erwin Leder (Das Boot), who narrates almost the entire picture, the normal-looking man is, in actuality, an evil brute whose uncontrollable urge to torture humans bubbles over mere minutes after being released from a 10-year prison stint for murder; he had chosen a random house and, just for the hell of it, pulled a gun and point-blank executed the elderly woman who made the unfortunate mistake of answering the door.

Now freed from bars once more, he’s got that itch that really needs scratching, and finds it in a fairly secluded home occupied by a small family that includes a wheelchair-bound young man who drools uncontrollably. Thus begins the “meat” of the movie: a triple murder played out in excruciating, graphic detail and violence that escalates to vile.

It’s revolting enough early in the film to see an extreme close-up of the psychopath tear into a sausage like an animal; it’s near-unbearable — those with a weak constitution should nix the “near-” — to witness what is essentially a how-to piece. Director/co-writer Gerald Kargl never made another picture before or since, so at least his lone foray into features is unforgettable — just not in the way the populace likes. Based on real-life events, it’s tough and uncompromising and hardly “entertainment.” Aided and abetted by Tangerine Dream co-founder Klaus Schulze’s score and with astute, dark-humored details such as a dog chewing on the dentures knocked out of an old woman’s mouth, Angst has artistry that can be acknowledged while simultaneously loathing the work as a whole. —Rod Lott

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