Oddity (2024)

Not sure about buying that creepy fixer-upper? It’s tough. Yes, someone will almost certainly decorate the banisters with your vital organs. But just look at the size of that courtyard!

Like seriously, the setting of Damian Mc Carthy’s Oddity is one of the most ideal horror locations since Fede Alvarez’s Don’t Breathe. On top of it all, Mc Carthy makes the most out of this inevitably haunted house with a modern ghost story that’s as deliciously cheesy as it is entertaining.

Hospital director Ted (Gwilym Lee, Bohemian Rhapsody) and his wife, Dani (Carolyn Bracken, You Are Not My Mother), are in midst of renovating their “dream” home. Dani is bludgeoned to death as Ted works a night shift at the friendly neighborhood psych ward. A year later, Ted visits Dani’s twin sister, Darcy (also Bracken), a blind psychic and owner of an oddity shop. After Darcy touches the glass eye of the late suspected killer, Ted’s old patient (Tadhg Murphy, The Northman), Darcy realizes the truth is messier than the crime scene. With a terrifying wooden doll in tow, the psychic resolves to avenge her sister’s murder and arrives uninvited to Ted’s home.

Some may not think of this as a weakness, but Oddity’s biggest hurdle comes from its stiff and long-winded dialogue. It doesn’t help that most of the performances (save Lee’s) can’t muster much to soften that rigidity. Certain exchanges between characters feel like they never quite got out of rehearsal, coming just short of the Stuart Gordon tone Mc Carthy tries to strike.

That said, stilted and awkward deliveries don’t hold the film back too much. In some ways, it lends itself to the idea no one in Oddity should be taken at face value. Even if you predict where the film is going — and you probably will — Mc Carthy keeps us hungry for the killer’s comeuppance with captivating charm. It also manages to pay off its ending, satisfying a seemingly random aside that still has something powerful to say about belief without overtly jamming it down our throats.

Even Oddity’s jump scares avoid falling into an uninspired formula. It feels familiar, sure, but these sequences aren’t concerned reinventing the wheel or making up for a lackluster plot. It almost feels like Mc Carthy could’ve abandoned some of the surprises outright and the film still would’ve landed in a satisfying place. Still, the director gets creative, and the heart poured into Oddity beautifully pulses and twitches on screen.

Oddity refuses to take itself too seriously, not so much leaning on ’80s convention as it is celebrating it. And by doing so, it reminds us that not every horror flick needs to be a jarring mediation of grief or, in the Terrifier franchise’s case, grotesque slapstick. Sometimes, watching someone chased out of a creepy house by a pissed ghost is enough. —Daniel Bokemper

Get it at Amazon.

Death Game (2024)

Year after year, warriors from the world over go for the gold — “a thousand taels,” to be exact — in a competition called the Five Poison Trials. These entail booby-trapped events with badass names like Malevolent Scorpion, Prideful Centipede and Suspicious Cicada.

Sounds cool, but Death Game, the Chinese period piece depicting these anti-Olympics, manages to make the most unusual tourney a real snore. That shouldn’t be the case when participants must navigate a maze while avoiding crossbows and snakes, or run up stairs while big ol’ boulders roll down and spears spit from the walls, yet this movie succeeds only in dropping the ball.

Had Death Game been made in the kung-fu craze of the 1970s, it likely would rock hard. That’s because the filmmakers would be forced to use ingenuity, not every CGI tool in the software package. Imagine watching blindfolded characters attempt to swordfight their way across a bridge over a treacherous canyon; here, they look like they’re doing so within a cartoon. Because the surroundings don’t appear the least bit realistic, the stakes never feel real, either.

Don’t even get me started on how the old rich guys running the thing are able to comment on who’s winning when they’re removed from the area of gameplay. It’s not like imperial China had monitors, much less, y’know, electricity.

This brief exchange puts it best:
“Your skills are impressive.”
“You are disgraceful.” 

—Rod Lott

Bad Taste (1987)

It’s easy to forget Peter Jackson, director of the prestigious Lord of the Rings films, began his career with a trio of splattery, dark, lowbrow comedies, beginning with the aptly named Bad Taste (the other two being Meet the Feebles and Braindead).

His first foray into moviemaking is an impressive feat, considering it was shot on 16mm with virtually no budget and features friends playing all the key roles. Jackson himself pulls double duty as Derek and Robert. This double casting includes a fight scene between the two characters via highly clever editing.

The premise is simple: A shadowy government organization learns of the disappearance of a small town in New Zealand, so they send in “The Boys,” a paramilitary group comprised of Ozzy (Terry Potter), Barry (Pete O’Herne), Frank (Mike Minett) and the aforementioned Derek, to investigate. They discover the town has been invaded by space aliens who plan to use the slaughtered citizens as meat for their intergalactic fast-food chain.

The Boys wage an all-out assault on the aliens, and it’s every bit as action-packed, silly, nasty and gory as one might imagine. There’s also plenty of poop, puke and all-around perversity to boot.

The over-the-top special effects are the true star here, but Jackson’s impressive camera work gives them a run for their money. Reportedly inspired by Sam Raimi’s The Evil Dead, the camera swings and swoops in frenzied motions, coming to rest in oblique angles and odd closeups. It’s the kind of visual grandeur Jackson became known for so many years later, on full display in this gnarly little labor of love.

If fans of the director haven’t yet seen Bad Taste, they would be wise to correct this error in judgment and see how it all began. More broadly speaking, lovers of Raimi, gore and sci-fi/horror comedies should add this one to their watchlists immediately. —Christopher Shultz

Get it at Amazon.

Dead Teenagers (2024)

If Roger Ebert didn’t coin the phrase “dead teenager movie,” he famously owns it by virtue of inclusion in his ’80s-filmgoer’s glossary. On this far side of that decade’s slasher craze, you don’t need the term defined; you know exactly what it entails. Quinn Armstrong’s Dead Teenagers knows you know, and sets out to subvert the subgenre with a good upending.

The final chapter of Armstrong’s Fresh Hell trilogy, Dead Teenagers plops five hormone-addled high school friends in a woods-adjacent cabin — the same location for the other two movies, in fact. Right away, cocky jock Ethan (Angel Ray, 2023’s Malum) breaks up with Mandy (newcomer Jordan Myers). After all, he’s college-bound and “pussy ’bout to be, like, pow-pow-pow!” Clearly, the actors are too old to play this young, but rather than being a deficit, the choice soon is revealed as intentional.

Mandy’s heartbreak and Ethan’s thoughtless timing get shoved aside by strange events; in the forest, she finds a piece of equipment from the shoot of Fresh Hell’s first chapter, The Exorcism of Saint Patrick, as well as script pages for Dead Teenagers, the very movie we’re watching. Then a hulking man whose face is hidden behind a welding mask shows up to slaughter; like every slasher villain, he comes with an exploitable name: Torch (Chris Hahn, 2021’s Wrong Turn remake).

Mandy and friends suddenly realize they’re in a movie; this inadvertent act of self-awareness amounts to improvisation, changing the course of what’s supposed to happen. Incidental characters who pop into the story continue to play their part as scripted, because they only exist on the page; thus, most notably, a cop (Beau Roberts, returning from Saint Patrick) exchanges blows with someone who’s not even present.

As you’ve likely already assumed, Dead Teenagers doesn’t just go meta, but doubles, even triples down on doing so. Its postmodern nature is not of the arch Scream variety, but a textbook deconstruction so thorough, its footnotes have footnotes.

Ambitious? That’s putting it lightly. Although Armstrong doesn’t quite wring it into being fully successful, he has enough tricks — such as Mandy happening upon a crew van or entering a time loop — to make the Fresh Hell entry the most fully realized. If you watch only one among the trio, this should be it. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

¡Casa Bonita Mi Amor! (2024)

In the department of “Careful what you wish for, because you just might get it … provided you’re willing to part with $40 million,” we have ¡Casa Bonita Mi Amor! The documentary follows South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone — but mostly Parker — as they save the Denver, Colorado-area restaurant from extinction following its COVID-hurled bankruptcy.

Rescuing Casa Bonita is the easy part; restoring it to the beloved kitsch eatery of their childhood memories is another. After all, Casa Bonita — actually started in Oklahoma City, which the doc ignores — was renowned not for its Mexican food, but its amusement park touches, from cliff divers and a built-in haunted cave to a gorilla on the loose. Parker and Stone seek to add their own ideas as well, like an animatronic bird that poops bad fortunes. Which is all fine and good, except the building of “beans and chorine” turns out to be a rotted money pit of disrepair and disaster — some potentially lethal.

Captured by How’s Your News? director Arthur Bradford, a frequent collaborator of Parker and Stone, ¡Casa Bonita Mi Amor! is largely a contractor’s remodelmentary; aside from the F-bombs, the piece could be mistaken for any renovation hour on HGTV. That’s not necessarily a knock, unless you’re expecting a story as wild and crazy as, say, Class Action Park. Given the famous backers at play here, you might.

But you might also be surprised how sad the doc becomes in its final minutes, as reality catches up to Parker. The turn may qualify as too-little-too-late, but anyone standing in their middle-age era will recognize the folly of chasing your past … the ennui of life passing you by … the acknowledgment of your impending doom …

Anyway, who’s ready for sopapillas? —Rod Lott

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