Project Wolf Hunting (2022)

In a cargo ship leaving the Philippines for Busan, Korean detectives chaperone a boatload of extradited criminals. And, unknowingly, one desecrated corpse of a science-abetted super soldier with his eyes stapled shut. God forbid some rogue agent gets the not-so-bright idea to reanimate that thing!

The vehicle-bound prisoners have distinct personalities, like in Con Air. They take over the boat and hold people hostage, like in Under Siege. Someone does resurrect that Frankensteinian beast built to be virtually indestructible, like Wolverine in X-Men Origins. It even hunts its human prey in thermal vision — in color! — like Predator.

Despite these blockbuster similarities and influences, the magic of Project Wolf Hunting is how fresh it feels. In high concept and shiny sheen, it suggests a graphic novel adapted to live-action perfection; as puny prisoners are punched across long distances, you can imagine the edges of comic-book panels being burst to convey such brutal force. Yet the South Korean film’s source material is the brain of its writer and director, Kim Hongsun (2014’s The Con Artists.)

Train to Busan’s Choi Gwi-hwa may not look menacing in real life, but as Alpha, the awakened military experiment, he’s a hulking machine of intimidation. One swing of his arm can — and does — amputate another’s. He pummels through people as if their bodies were Baggies. Folks, this movie is violent. It might even spill more blood than Sam Raimi’s first two Evil Dead chapters combined. In not holding back, Hongsun delivers audience-pleasing, sphincter-clenching action on a grand scale. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Afros, Macks & Zodiacs (1995)

WTFTake a historical trip through the blaxploitation films of the ’70s with Afros, Macks & Zodiacs, Something Weird Video’s 90-minute collection of these flicks’ coming attractions, all laden with shooting, loving and waka-waka guitar strumming. With the VHS tape’s release at the dawn of blaxploitation’s Tarantino-fueled resurgence in the late 1990s, Something Weird was well ahead of the curve. Dolemite’s own dirty ol’ man Rudy Ray Moore hosts the affair, with three ladies resembling Pam Grier’s Coffy huddled by his side.

In addition to the aforementioned Dolemite, Moore is represented by two other trailers of his unique action-raunch vehicles: Disco Godfather and The Human Tornado. In the latter, he boasts, “I’ve gotta dong as big as King Kong!” He gets off a better, more clever line in Dolemite: “I want him outta here in 24 hours, and 23 of ’em are already up!”

Other highlights include:
• In Monkey Hustle, the boys lift Quasars, while the girls wear T-shirts reading “Sweet Potatoes.”
• Tamara Dobson’s Cleopatra Jones character is pushed as “the sweet soul sister’s answer to James Bond.”
Ebony, Ivory & Jade are touted as “.45-caliber kittens.” The titular first third (Rosanne Katon) karate-chops a few guys as she busts out of a tight “Big & Tall” T-shirt.
• The concert film Wattstax features Ike and Tina Turner, a heavy-haired Rev. Jesse Jackson and Rufus Thomas, who performs onstage in white tube socks.
• Robert Hooks’ Mr. T, the hero of Trouble Man, warns a caller asking for someone named Chalky, “This is T. Chalky’s dead. Now I’m comin’ to get your honky ass.”
Trick Baby treats its source novel as if it were as hallowed and highbrow as Charles Dickens: “The way Iceberg Slim wrote it!”

Occasionally, director Domonic Paris (Film House Fever) lets Moore break into the proceedings to tell a dirty joke, none of which are all that funny. As the nonetheless amusing master of ceremonies, he tends to rhyme his lines like so many of the narrators of the trailers featured within. (Adolph Caesar, you were the teaser.) The program ends with a dirt-cheap music video, “Fonky Party,” a Blowfly collab that sees Moore squaring off against Jim Kelly (Black Belt Jones), then looking remarkably well for his age.

I especially enjoyed the monster-knockoff trailers for both Blacula movies and Dr. Black and Mr. Hyde. Sad to say, Blackenstein is a no-show. All in all, Afros, Macks & Zodiacs is a fine compilation, even if suspiciously Shaft-less. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

The Outwaters (2022)

Last summer, as part of a spinal procedure requiring me to remain semi-conscious, ketamine was administered as an anesthetic. A first-timer to the drug, I was ill-prepared for the trip of its drip: one in which my body was pushed through shapes and colors that do not exist. Members of the Trainspotting generation know better, using it recreationally for the very reason I found terrifying.

The experience is so tough to describe with an approximation of accuracy, I yield to the Reddit poster who writes, “you are kitty tripping balls. It’s when MEOW becomes WOEM and the sky is on the floor and vice versa.”

That merits reuse when discussing The Outwaters. It’s a found-footage movie like none you’ve seen. Heck, that still applies if you pull “found-footage” from the equation. On paper, it sounds like every other project in the subgenre: Four friends venture into the Mojave Desert to shoot a music video. Something happens. What we see comes from three memory cards the police recovered from the scene.

In execution, it’s so much more than that, although you wouldn’t know it if you gave up before it gets there — and many will. As writer, director and producer (and editor and cinematographer and sound designer and SFX person and …), Robbie Banfield boldly dares to double down on the mundanity for The Outwaters’ first 52 minutes, only to throw audiences for an absolute loop thereafter.

We meet two brothers (Banfield and Scott Schamell), an aspiring singer (Michelle May) and a newlywed friend (Angela Basolis), as they prep to leave L.A. earthquakes behind for the shoot. In the desert, Banfield’s able to capture moments of beauty, both visually and aurally. Camping overnight, they hear what they think is ball lightning. The next morning, what’s with the electric currents running through the rocks?

Then, with no forewarning, the film takes such the hardest hard right, spatial concepts like degrees and directions cease. For the next hour, The Outwaters trafficks in sheer terror and cosmic whatthefuckery at once Lynchian and Lovecraftian. You’ll question what you’re taking in as it unspools. It’s as audacious as it is mind-bending, and weeks later, I’m still trying to parse how several of its shots were pulled off.

For all the viral brouhaha Skinamarink recently enjoyed, The Outwaters deserves it more, despite being equal in viewer polarization and befuddlement. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Knock at the Cabin (2023)

You’ll be happy to hear Knock at the Cabin isn’t The Happening’s spiritual successor. But it is a prime example of M. Night Shyamalan getting in his own way. Again.

Subtlety, ambiguity and refrain were never the director’s forte, but they didn’t always sabotage his films, either. Here, Shyamalan chips away at an otherwise solid premise courtesy of Knock’s solid source material, Paul Tremblay’s 2018 novel, The Cabin at the End of the World. What’s left isn’t exactly a bad flick, but it’s leagues below what it could’ve been.

It’s easy to dismiss Shyamalan. After all, we’re far removed from what made Unbreakable and Signs endearing. Even so, it’s not unreasonable to hope with the right character, the director still can manage to tug heartstrings between his hallmark twists. Wen, a young girl played by Kristen Cui, could share a cubby with The Sixth Sense’s Cole.

One morning collecting grasshoppers, she’s approached by Leonard, an utter brick shithouse played by Dave Bautista (2021’s Dune). Along with a mismatched trio of colleagues, Leonard forces Wen into her parents’ cabin, trapping the family inside. Once there, Leonard’s group offers them a simple choice: Sacrifice one of themselves to prevent the apocalypse.

Tension builds immediately, and the cinematography does well to make a seemingly cosmic scenario much more intimate. Overall, how the film was shot could’ve been more consistent, but that’s minor. The horrendous news footage, however, can’t be overlooked. These segments are both poorly animated and actively crush the air of doubt that animates the story’s conflict. Shyamalan finds a creative way to nullify that, too, but not before the fake CNN asides do it first.

Pair those with crashing planes on par with Birdemic’s nosediving doves, and it becomes hilariously hard to take Knock seriously. It’s baffling — and frustrating — to see the director deliberately muddle a natural sense of mystique.

This isn’t even considering the inevitable, poorly executed twist. Doubting the power of his symbolism, Shyamalan delivers nothing short of an insult to the audience as character after character painstakingly break down the meaning of their ordeal. Meanwhile, elements that would serve the film’s soft mystery are asides, sometimes brought up once and never to be alluded to again.

Knock at the Cabin is far from Shyamalan’s worst film. What makes it painful is how promising it was. It has all the pieces to match and possibly exceed his best work; if only he didn’t twist his ankle when trying to stick the landing. —Daniel Bokemper

Get it at Amazon.

Ghostwatch (1992)

Broadcast on Halloween night 1992 in the UK, Ghostwatch may be the greatest prank in TV history, not to mention a seminal moment in small-screen horror, a britches-wetting touchstone for a generation. Three decades later, it’s well-regarded and influential, having left footprints on arguably every inch of “found footage.” (Plus, WNUF Halloween Special would not exist without it.)

Presented as a “live” BBC special, but scripted in actuality by horror scribe Stephen Volk (2011’s The Awakening), Ghostwatch purports to investigate — and possibly even exorcise — supernatural forces at the home of the Early family. As single mum Pamela (Brid Brennan, Excalibur) tells on-site presenter Sarah Greene — and, by extension, in-studio host Michael Parkinson — the poltergeist has terrorized her and her two young daughters with bumps in the night, broken dishes, stained clothing and, ewww, a smelly tap. Pam’s girls chalk it up to Pipes, an entity so-named for its pipe-banging propensity.

Suffice to say, before the 90-minute time slot is up, Pipes shows it’s no slouch. Its “appearances” are why Ghostwatch is held in high regard. Having BBC TV personalities appear as themselves helped get it there, selling the illusion of reality. Because viewers were so bought-in to the premise, there’s no denying Ghostwatch‘s conclusion isn’t brilliant. (It may be more brilliant than you might realize; using the pause and frame-advance functions of a remote shows the extent of the subliminal working toward the greater gasps.)

All that said, the space between the frights can feel like stretches, which they are. Off and on, it’s something of a tough sit. That’s a reasonable expectation while waiting for paranormal acts that original viewers weren’t certain would occur within the allotted airtime. Knowing beforehand that they do — and that they’re ultimately quite a doozy — dilutes the program’s power. Watched today from that perspective, Ghostwatch is easier to admire than submit to.

I guess you had to be there? How I wish I were. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Random Genre & Cult Movie Reviews