Horrors ability to explore difficult topics and themes, and to speak to a lived experience felt by an audience, has led to a number of powerfully moving allegorical works of late. Samantha Aldana’s fascinating debut, Shapeless, melds an eating disorder into a body horror, to create a horrifying vision for an affliction suffered by many. Whilst the work doesn’t quite come together, it leaves an impact that resonates after the film’s disturbing conclusion.  
 
Ivy (a rather sensational Kelly Murtagh, who is also Shapeless' co-writer) suffers through the narrative, fighting to become a singer in the labyrinth-like underground music scene, whilst also not letting the monster her eating condition has created overtake her. 
 
Wrenchingly sad, Shapeless is a melancholic affair that manages to keep the audience’s attention with several visually arresting sequences (The Wolf of Snow Hollow’s Natalie Kingston’s cinematography is haunting). Certainly Aldana feels a director worth keeping an eye on, who may do great things for the genre hereafter. Where Shapeless falls down is in a sense of being overstretched. There is a great 30 minute short here but Aldana and Murtagh have extended the work, leading to stretches where the tension ebbs away and genre fans might be frustrated that the horror often struggles to chill the bone. Shapeless is at its best as an intimate drama exploring a rarely represented condition and is admirable in this sense. ​

Pennywise: The Story of It is a fascinating product that, for some, is the perfect way to explore our continued love for the works of Stephen King. An expansive, sprawling (with the confides of its narrow focus) look at one adaptation of perhaps the ultimate King novel, the film comes with a wealth of behind-the-scenes footage and interviews with the cast and creatives behind the TV event that made such an impact in the early 90s. But as it stretches into a second hour, this is a work that may well taste its audience’s nostalgia and desire for information for a work whose real lingering presence has been the clown at the centre of its dark narrative. 
 
Directors John Campopiano and Chris Griffiths have experience in the field, their careers a litany of works exploring cinema of the 80s and 90s. And one can feel this in the editing and construction of Pennywise, as it exhibits a fondness for the material and, at least initially, a pace that draws audiences into its journey. The first few chapters ping through the journey that It had from hit novel to an early example of television as an event, but then we get a bit stuck in the minutiae of the show’s production and the pace halts to a crawl. 
 
Your interest in this documentary likely comes down to the impact the 90s TV adaptation of It had on you, as well as your expectation for information around and outside of this work. If you can overcome the absence of any presence for the modern take on the novel (the first of which is one of the most successful cinematic horrors at the box office). There is an endearing quality to Pennywise: The Story of It, and it is genuinely fascinating to see the novel’s journey to the small screen. But there is perhaps a bit too much information about one adaptation and a final chapter missing that helps us understand the modern impact that It has had. ​

Have you even found that single point in your horror fandom where you just go 'I'm not for this anymore'? okay some context for you. I have always loved extreme, some of my favourite authors are extreme writers, I always tell people on Bloody Good Reads that Jack Ketchum is one of my favourite authors of all time, with The Girl Next Door being my number one bloody good read. Some of the best films I have seen have also been within this too, Eden Lake, F, Human Centipede, all films that drag you through the ringer, but I am not sure if it is me getting older or that fact that I am a parent that made a certain point of SPEAK NO EVIL or Too Much Politeness: The Movie just made me look away and skip. We will get to that in a little bit.

SPEAK NO EVIL follows a young family of Björn, Louise and their daughter Agnes who are invited to spend the weekend with a family they met on holiday. Louise is unsure but Björn seems to be loving the company of Patrick, Karin and their son Abel. However things start to unravell and the couple are manipulated in doing pretty much what ever Patrick and his wife seem to want them to do. Even when they have the chance to escape during the night the couple are talked into staying for one final night. But it is this one fateful day that ends every thing for the young family.

Patrick and Karin are serial killers, targeting families on holiday and luring them into their home and taking their children to replace with children previously kidnapped. The twisted aspect of this film, and as promised the reason I found this too much is that they remove the tongue of the children, obviously so they can not tell anyone about the killers and their actions. The scene in question is extremely graphic, as Agnes is dragged from the car and her tongue is very visibly cut from her mouth. I could watch this one, and that shocked me as a whole as, lets be honest here I have seen MUCH worse, but I think as a parent this hit a part of my brain which tells me I just can't handle this kind of treatment of a kid.

As a whole, and with my critic hat on, the film doesn't have much else going for it apart from this scene. I went in tense already, with all the reviews of how brutal and bleak it is and I was expecting Eden Lake levels of bleak. Remove the brutality of the tongue scene however what we have is things we have seen before, a family in danger, and family who will not be getting out alive. I wanted to have Bjorn or Louise pop back up somehow living through the stoning and getting some kind of revenge but there was no slight relief of that.

Removing that one scene Eden Lake is worse so if you can handle the bleakness of that film you are going to be fine here. It has moments of tenseness but I do wonder if this is because I was already there. 

For me personally I think I'm done with this side of horror for a long while. but it does have its merits and this scene will be what makes the film a one to watch for the more hardy members of the horror community. I might watch The Sadness the cleanse my pallet.

Emerging after a decade away, cult filmmaker Alfred Costella (Vinny Curran) hires a crew to make a behind-the-scenes documentary of his final film. Al wishes them to chronicle the ugly truths of his biggest work ever, promising an all-practical concept with a dark twist. A fan of the director, documentarian Calvin (Ian Tripp) finds his excitement diminished as he delves further into the film. 

The stress of moviemaking is effectively captured by co-directors Ian Tripp and Ryan Schafrer, centred around a story of manipulation and control by those in power. Al’s aggressions come out during directing, as he belittles his cast while taking whatever lengths to capture what he desires, including outright abuse. Curran effectively portrays the fabled director with both an alluring energy and a sinister temper, complete with apologies which feel rehearsed and insincere. 

Whether they’re in-front of or behind the camera, the crew are excited to immortalise themselves in celluloid by devoting themselves fully to this project. Everybody wishes to impress Costella, no matter how fanatical the lengths they take, as best captured by Brendan Cahalan’s faithful Grant. 
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The film comes alive when things get meta or have fun with the grisly elements, yet things are less stable when trying to blend the comedic moments with darker elements inspired by headlines. Amongst these tonal clashes, one wonders what the film can add to the conversations about workplace abuse in the moviemaking industry. Outside of this lies a fun tale about a film shoot on the road to hell. 
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A contained space. An impersonal voice delivering implacable instructions. No clear reason to what is happening or why, let alone an end in sight. Distorted memories and haunting images. These are the challenges facing Eileen (Sara Mitich) when she awakens in a metal room. Tasked with moving a pencil with increasing levels of difficulty, plagued by recollections of her daughter Eve (Evie Loiselle), and the subsequent arrival of another character mean both the addition of further pressures on Eileen as well as what appear to be psychokinetic ability. While the tests and obstacles escalate, the haunting memories remain.

Director James Mark uses the limited locations to create a serious sense of entrapment. This extends to both the physical space and the psychological enclosure of Eileen. The superb production design of the cell is both uniform and varied. Rather than being a flat metal box, the walls consist of cones or pyramidal shapes, giving the appearance of spikes and almost an inverted metal porcupine. This increases the sense of threat and oppressive enclosure, as not only is one contained but the very walls of the container are hostile.

Hostility is also conveyed by the strong changes in lighting, from white to red to blue. Thanks to the contained environment, these sudden shifts are startling and change the pallor of the scene beyond the lighting itself. Red means pressure and blue additional danger, but even the standard white light is far from neutral or reassuring. Director of photography Russ De Jong uses harsh lighting in these sequences to outline the stark lines of Eileen’s face, and softer lighting during her memories of Eve on a beach. The softer images as well as the open sky at the beach suggest an escape or release from the pressures of the cell, but even the beach is a trap of sorts, an enclosure on Eileen’s mind as much as the cell is upon her body.

The torture upon Eileen’s mind remains distressing throughout, especially as the cell is further equipped with a screen that displays a countdown through the changing colours of squares, oddly reminiscent of the old PC game Minesweeper. Like a player of that game, Eileen must utilise strategy as the detached female voice from the speaker overhead issues instructions and threats. Memories surface and influence her emotional state as well as her ability, while the unseen controller also literally switches Eileen on and off by inducing sleep. The development of Eileen’s ability parallels that of such characters as Carrie White or even superhero figures like Jean Grey, indicating an interesting crossover between horror and superhero, within this science fiction context. But while there are moments of punch the air triumph as Eileen succeeds, these are always tempered with the lack of escape or indeed autonomy.

As the film progresses, the developments spill into more overt violence including some outright body horror, but the overall tone is melancholy rather than shocking. Interestingly, the true source of the horror or indeed the power remains ambiguous. Trauma, grief and abuse all jostle for position, the cell expressing the inability to escape past sorrows of any sort. The wider context beyond the cell or the surrounding ‘facility’ is only hinted at, with some particularly chilling references such as ‘storage’.

While Control is for the most part tense and taut, there are some false steps, such as a montage where we see Eileen’s abilities increasing. While these are helpful in demonstrating the passage of time, they also release tension and therefore detract from the sense of containment, especially as the music is often distracting. Despite this, Mark still delivers an effective thriller with weighty themes that are never overplayed, with the film is at its strongest when it tightens the screws on its hapless protagonist.

The horror documentary has a distinguished history. Room 237, Never Sleep Again: The Elm Street Legacy and Crystal Lake Memories: The Complete History of Friday the 13th all provide insightful and sometimes exhaustive discussions into the meanings and histories of these films and franchises, and the continued appetite for such documentaries demonstrates the passion of the fan community. While The Shining, A Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th are household names, a less prominent title, let alone fandom, is End Zone (1965) and End Zone 2 (1970). It may be this relative obscurity that that inspired directors Sophia Cacciola and Michael J. Epstein to create The Once and Future Smash, a mockumentary centred around End Zone 2, a film with no surviving complete version as the last 30 minutes are lost. The mockumentary and a restoration of the incomplete film played as a double bill at FrightFest 2022, the ideal venue for a neglected horror film and a documentary from evident lovers of the genre.  
 
Watching The Once and Future Smash is an odd experience, as initially it appears to be a legitimate documentary, with talking heads including Mark Patton (Nightmare on Elm Street 2), Melanie Kinnaman (Friday the 13th Part V: A New Beginning), V.C. DuPree (Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan), Lloyd Kaufman (Troma), Victor Miller (Friday the 13th), Adam Marcus (Jason Goes to Hell) and many more. At first, these guests seem to be discussing End Zone 2 in a serious way as a significant film, but as their claims become increasingly disparate and outlandish, we see that this is less Crystal Lake Memories and more This Is Spinal Smash. At this point, the viewer can settle into the ribbing and purposely absurd narrative.  
 
This narrative revolves around the Mad Monster Party horror convention where fans are gathering for guests and panels from such delights as Man-Spider (a spider bitten by a radioactive man who gains the powers of a human). Also at this convention are the two men who played the killer Smash Mouth in End Zone 2: Mikey Smash (Michael St. Michaels), who played the role in the footage that survives; William Mouth (Bill Weeden), who did so in the footage that is lost. Mikey is also accompanied by A.J. (A. J. Cutler) who has a lifelong vow to serve Smash Mouth. It’s all a bit weird.  
 
Much of this material is familiar and at times funny, as well as being pleasingly meta as the film focuses on actors playing actors who are forever associated with one role. In true documentary form, the various guests give their views on the film’s history, its influence and its meaning, such as repeated insistences on the film being a metaphor for the Vietnam war. However, the knowingness that informs the film is rather grating at times and the repeated gags (Vietnam!) become tiresome. While there is affection for the fans and stars of such cult ‘classics’, there is also a sense of meanness and punching down – look how stupid these would-be producers are, look at the insistence of these interpretations (Vietnam!), ha ha ha. While the film offers some pleasures for fans of horror cinema, horror conventions and indeed mockumentaries, The Once and Future Smash is overall too smug and, indeed, mocking to maintain enjoyment.  
 
Screened in partnership with the mockumentary is End Zone 2 itself, restored from a range of different sources, including six partial prints and a partial Italian internegative. This provides context for The Once and Future Smash, but it is somewhat mystifying that this stilted and painfully forced slasher has attracted any kind of following. Evident care went into the restoration, but one might ask why the film warranted such attention.  
 
Aside from being baffled, the viewer may also be relieved that thirty minutes of the film is lost, because after twenty minutes you’re likely to check the time. There can be a charm to the ramshackle nature of this sub-genre, and it is interesting that End Zone and End Zone 2 predate the slasher boom of the late 1970s and early 80s. But there is no charm to be found in this turgid mess as director August Kane demonstrates no flair or style, or frankly much in the way of competency. Characters frequently stand around explaining the plot, in a series of close-ups and full shots that are clumsily edited to the point of being obvious. Tension is severely lacking as the characters’ running is so minimal as to destroy the illusion of a chase, and any attempted jump scares are hamstrung as all it takes is for a killer to turn around and attack. Furthermore, when he does attack, the feeble thrashing of the performers as well as the discontinuous editing look painfully amateurish. While the mask of Smash Mouth is somewhat gruesome, the character’s prancing and lunging come across as dumb rather than menacing. The one atmospheric moment is an out of nowhere séance sequence that offers some creepiness, but this supernatural element is unmotivated and does not return. Maybe that aspect is in the lost footage, but after seeing 60 minutes of this tedious drivel, why would we care?  
 
All in all, this paired production is very odd. Either the original film holds great meaning for the directors, possibly out of a love for something that they regard as so bad it’s good; or maybe they find it genuinely terrible and thought it would be fun to take the piss out of it. In a sense, they do succeed in this regard, but that rather adds to the sense of punching down. The overall result is a peculiar mixture of affection and meanness, which at least demonstrates that Cacciola and Epstein can balance some interesting bedfellows.  ​