V/H/S/Beyond (2024)

Since 2012, the V/H/S franchise has emerged as the definitive, modern horror anthology series. (Sorry, The ABCs of Death, we hardly knew thee.) Unfortunately, save V/H/S/2 and V/H/S/94, few of the collections have offered a compelling reason to rewind and rewatch. Sure, we might revisit “Storm Drain” and “Safe Haven,” but one compelling segment never single-handedly saves an entire film. The series’ latest entry, V/H/S/Beyond, doesn’t feature the best shorts across the entire franchise. It does, however, offer one of the most cohesive experiences yet.

Framed by a mockumentary directed, written and starring Jay Cheel (Shudder’s Cursed Films), the anthology’s interludes explore the viability of two tapes allegedly containing proof of extraterrestrial life. It dials down the intensity of the previous films’ frame narratives, but it’s nonetheless memorable and interesting. It also wraps up with a confusing, albeit creative and stomach-churning climax.

The shorts themselves offer a mix everything. While loose sci-fi seems to be the connective thread, most feel like they could’ve easily been plugged into one of the previous entries. That said, it’s nice to have them all in one flick, even if only a few reach very far “beyond.”

Jordan Downey’s “Stork” and Justin Martinez’s “Live and Let Dive” are the most thrilling entries by a mile. “Stork” is a zombie-filled police raid oozing with [REC] residue. “Live and Let Dive,” on the other hand, pushes the boundaries of found footage through an intense sky-diving sequence. However, its luster wanes a bit, as Martinez overexposes his monsters despite an extremely short runtime. Virat Pal’s “Dream Girl” falls in a similar camp, though what could’ve been the most substantial short quickly descends into a hollow — and hard-to-see — splatter fest.

Christian and Justin Long’s (yes, that Justin Long) “Fur Babies” is perhaps the furthest removed from the overarching theme, but emerges as the most deranged and delightful segment. Imagine if Dr. Moreau and Annie Wilkes from Misery started a doggy daycare business. This inherently goofy premise goes full Tusk, yet unlike Kevin Smith’s podcast-inspired horror, doesn’t overstay its welcome.

V/H/S/Beyond saves the best for last with Kate Siegel and Mike Flanagan’s “Stowaway.” It’s an intriguing look into obsession that features a final shot and prosthetic not far off from the creature effects of 2014’s Spring. It’s also so damn sad, pulling at an emotional cord that most V/H/S stories don’t even consider, let alone try to approach. Even so, “Stowaway” still feels like it could’ve benefited from an extra few minutes and clearer camera work, though addressing the latter could infringe on the short’s level of intimacy.

If anything, V/H/S/Beyond hopefully sets a new standard for what the franchise can be. It sits in that funny space where it doesn’t blow past all other entries, but offers a variety not seen in the previous installments. If you can only pick one anthology film to fill out your Halloween movie marathon, you should just rewatch Creepshow. Though V/H/S/Beyond would be a solid second choice. —Daniel Bokemper

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Bloodbath at the House of Death (1984)

In college, my dorm roommate, Randy, told me about a British horror spoof he’d once seen called Bloodbath at the House of Death. I’d never heard of it (this was pre-internet, folks) and thought maybe he was making it up, if not for one detail that struck me as too specific, too abstract and too hilarious: “The best thing is, the box says, ‘Starring Vincent Price as The Sinister Man’!”

For some reason, that made us laugh a lot.

Weeks later, my birthday rolled around. Randy gave me a brand-new VHS tape of Bloodbath from the budget-friendly Video Treasures label. Sure enough, atop the front cover, big block letters announced, “STARRING VINCENT PRICE AT THE SINISTER MAN.”

We laughed all over again. I guess you had to be there.

Nothing in the movie itself lived up to that. I remember being bored quickly and fast-forwarding to a scene Randy had hyped: where “the blonde floozy from Superman III gets her clothes ripped off by a ghost!” Even that disappointed, if only because Video Treasures’ LP-mode cassettes didn’t allow ideal clarity.

Now, nearly 35 years later, I can appreciate Bloodbath at the House of Death — and Pamela Stephenson’s toplessness — properly. She and fellow UK comic Kenny Everett headline the ramshackle rib-tickler as scientists investigating radioactive goings-on at Headstone Manor, where 18 people were brutally killed several years earlier.

And with that intentionally bare premise set, regular Everett writers Barry Cryer and Ray Cameron (who directs perfunctorily) hang parodies of Jaws, Alien, The Shining and others on it that, while not toothless, certainly don’t bite down hard. (The Carrie one is an inspired exception, with the Piper Laurie character beheaded by a can opener, slowly cranked turn by slowly cranked turn.)

In what amounts to an extended cameo, the legendary Price is game as the cult leader behind it all — the sinister man, some say. It’s a hoot to see him curse; his delivery of “You piss off!” is one for the ages, but his use of a gay slur hasn’t aged well.

As horror parodies go, Bloodbath resembles a more modern Carry On entry than this millennium’s Scary Movie series. The difference between their respective styles is far less than the distance separating their respective home countries; both offer an intelligent approach to comedy more stupid than, um, sinister. —Rod Lott

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Civil War (2024)

I never thought a second civil war on these American shores was possible. But with the demonic enabler Donald Trump and his masturbatory emissaries of evil leading the charge against everything that is good, moral and right in this country — and possibly this world — I no longer think that.

This wrong-headed and criminally active idea is caustically brought to life (death?) in the 2024 dystopian travelogue Civil War. As speculative fiction, it’s a brutally entertaining movie, but as far as a precursor of hellish things to come, it is frighteningly plausible.

So cast your votes and get your bulletproof vest on, too, I guess.

In the not-too-distant future (concurrently?), America has torn itself apart. A civil war rages with mutually panicked civilians with no sides, brutally gung-ho soldiers of misfortune and a third-term president (a shrewdly cast Nick Offerman) who grinds the gears of the manufacturing of war.

In between it all, a small group of Associated Press journalists try to be impartial of the battle surrounding them as they try to document it. Lee (a hardscrabble Kirsten Dunst) leads her team of photographers into the belly of the beast, all trying to reach the endgame destination of war-torn Washington, D.C.

Along the way, we meet disaffected “patriots” who string up tortured bodies in an overpass, innocent kids still playing on a football field, a small town trying to distance itself from the war, both sides of the skirmish playing dress-up with bullets, and members of the unregulated militias doling out the most brutal justice in the lawless world.

Fuck Mad Max — this is the true vision of the apocalyptic future.

Written and directed by Alex Garland, it patiently stokes the already fanned flames of a country teetering on the brink of real soldiers, real bodies and real war. It’s a vestigial trope that Garland more than explores and, even better, excels in, given its distinctly European veneer.

Hopefully, our country will place this movie in the scarred waste bin of alternating timelines that we will never have to truly deal with. But, in case Civil War is a razor-thin dividing line between freedom and slavery, voting your conscious is not part of this world, but the only part of this world. —Louis Fowler

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Mikey (1992)

Who doesn’t love a good old fashioned evil kid movie? From bona fide classics like The Bad Seed and The Omen to “trashier” fare like Bloody Birthday and the underrated Devil Times Five, there’s just something special about seeing prepubescent boys and girls slaughtering those around them.

Situated somewhere below the line of quality and good taste is Mikey, which bears the tagline “Remember, Jason and Freddie [sic] were kids once, too,” which lets you know exactly what kind of movie this is. Though it never gets quite as violent as the films in those franchises, the intent is clear: We’re here to see a psycho child off people in increasingly creative ways.

Mikey never really gets as creatively brutal as it could, giving audiences a movie that no doubt ran mostly uncut on basic cable back in the ’90s. Starring as the titular bad boy is Brian Bonsall, known primarily as the youngest Keaton child on Family Ties and from the Disney fever dream Blank Check. The audience is tipped off pretty quickly that Mikey is disturbed when he kills his entire foster family within the first 10 minutes.

He claims an intruder committed the crimes, and is hurriedly placed with another couple, played by John Diehl and Mimi Craven. The question then becomes: How soon will little Mikey kill again? We don’t have to wait terribly long, as the boy soon becomes obsessively infatuated with his friend’s older sister (Josie Bissett, All-American Murder), and plots to get rid of her boyfriend the only way he knows how. Ashley Laurence of Hellraiser fame plays the boy’s teacher, the only adult who knows something about Mikey just isn’t right.

If you’re looking for a frank exploration of child psychology and patterns of violence, don’t look here. Also, don’t look to Mikey if you prefer that good triumphs over evil in your entertainment, because you won’t find any of that here. Watch this movie only if you’re in the mood for some pure-grade schlock wrapped up in a nasty, 90-minute package. —Christopher Shultz

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Sleep (2023)

So I snore. Yes, I hog the covers. And I may have even accidentally slapped my wife while jolting awake from a fight-or-flight nightmare.

But at no time have I ever suddenly sat up in bed in the dead of night and ominously uttered, “Someone’s inside,” with no elaboration or explanation. That’s just mean.

That’s just the beginning of the Korean thriller Sleep. In the nights that follow, Hyun-su (Lee Sun-kyun, Parasite) debuts increasingly dangerous nocturnal habits, none of which he recalls once he wakes up. His suffering wife (Jung Yu-mi, Train to Busan), is perplexed. She’s also pregnant, so she needs the rest she’s not getting.

She certainly doesn’t need the stress and pressure brought by the situation, once their downstairs apartment neighbors complain of hearing screams of terror in the night.

Sleep marks the debut film as writer and director for Jason Yu, an assistant director for Bong Joon-hoo on Okja. That Yu’s former boss has endorsed this work as “the smartest debut” he’s seen in 10 years was all the convincing I needed to devote my time. While I wouldn’t necessarily second Bong’s superlative, Sleep is unmistakably sharp and cannily constructed, heralding Yu as a worthy protégé.

Twisty plotting notwithstanding, what makes Sleep work as well as it does is the easy rapport between Jung and Lee. (Sadly, Lee isn’t around to see his work, having committed suicide last year.) They feel real — completely believable as fresh spouses sharing a deep love and respect for one another. Without that caring bond to latch onto, the viewing public’s investment of concern into this more grounded Grudge would pale. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

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