The final entry into 2021’s Welcome To The Blumhouse anthology, writer-director Axelle Carolyn tells the story of former dancer Judith (Barbara Hershey) moving into a historic nursing home after suffering a stroke. She realises no mobile-phones are allowed and hears a patient screaming into the night, items which surprise her yet are easily explained. She then finds items of her own disappearing, sees figures in her room watching her sleep, and becomes convinced something supernatural is preying on the residents.

Ever since his father died, Judith has maintained a close relationship with her grandson Josh (Nicholas Alexander). Having looked after him and his mother since their loss, Judith and Josh have become a tight-knit pair that enjoy playing horror board-games and texting each other. Hershey and Alexander sell this bond rather well, capturing their charming relationship although one feels sorry for the mother, who feels left out from their relationship and large parts of the film itself.
​
As the supernatural instances keep occurring, Judith worries about what to do as she wishes to believed, yet everybody disregards her as another old person losing their marbles. It’s an interesting focus on ageism and how the elderly are treated, yet it’s something which works better in theory than execution. This film’s an appropriate reflection of this year’s Welcome To The Blumhouse assortment, as the interesting focus can’t mask how these relevant issues aren’t done justice in service of lacking horror elements. If next year sees another four films dropped onto Amazon Prime, one hopes they’re a stronger bunch because these have felt like lesser Blumhouse productions.

Among 2021’s quartet of Welcome To The Blumhouse offerings, Ryan Zaragoza directs the most down-to-Earth inclusion for the third instalment. The 1970’s set tale follows Diana and Beto (Ariana Guera and Tenoch Huerta), a Mexican-American couple who move to a Californian farming-community before the birth of their firstborn child.

Despite mangling American sayings, Beto takes to the new community rather quickly while Diana feels like an outsider. Other Mexican-Americans look down upon her for not knowing the language, although those worries disappear when Diana develops unusual symptoms along with horrific visions. The arrival of these elements makes her fear for her oncoming baby.

In their house, the couple discover papers which previously belonged to the former resident. Reading through them, Diana believes the community residents are becoming sick due to pesticides while Beto believes the local legend regarding a curse. This captures the couple rather well, as the wife looks for a rational explanation while her religious husband believes in the supernatural. When such effortless performances go into this charming couple, it’s easy to root for them as their hopes for a better life become unfortunately hampered.
​
Screenwriters Mario Miscione and Marcella Ochoa try to keep viewers guessing as to what’s the cause, and it’s unfortunate the feature leans so much into the ghostly elements. These instances paint the tale a bog-standard haunting when it’s biding time until the eventual revelation as to what’s happening. What’s revealed isn’t a surprise although is appropriately horrifying, as the last act becomes the strongest when grappling with a very real issue overlooked by history. It’s a shame these final instances arrive too late, saved for a twist ending rather than being a much-earlier focus.

Does the ‘Kills’ in the title of this film work as a verb or a noun? If we consider the former, then Halloween Kills many people. Over the course of 43 years, Michael Myers, AKA The Shape, has stabbed, strangled, sliced and slaughtered his way through all manner of victims (and some others did in Halloween III: Season of the Witch). Halloween Kills probably more than any previous instalment: from an opening massacre involving firefighters and their various tools – axe, hosepipe, buzzsaw – to later victims of lighting tubes, broken windows, walls, bannisters, misfired bullets and the trusty old kitchen knife, this film kills, kills and kills again.  
 
Killing isn’t the only thing that gets repeated, as this sequel to 2018’s re-launch of the Halloween saga restages, reinterprets and revises aspects of John Carpenter’s 1978 original as well as the first sequel, Halloween II from 1981. Characters who previously appeared briefly get to return; characters that we thought deceased turn out to have survived; the motivation of Michael Myers (beyond being EVIL) gets a makeover (or possibly makeinner, which isn’t a word). Repetition also informs the style, as director David Gordon Green seems to channel his inner Zack Snyder (which every filmmaker wants to do, right?). Various moments are captured in slo-mo that highlight the gravitas of the, well, killing. And if the slowed-down action isn’t enough, characters remind the viewer time and time again that ‘EVIL DIES TONIGHT’.  
 
Despite the repetition, Halloween Kills is messy and unfocused. Following on directly after the events of the 2018 film, one narrative thread stays with Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis), getting hospital treatment after her most recent encounter with Michael. Another thread follows Michael (James Jude Courtney and Nick Castle) himself as he cuts a swathe through Haddonfield. And a third follows a vigilante mob who decide that the police have failed them, and therefore they must ensure that ‘EVIL DIES TONIGHT’. Thus, the film swerves, slews and slides between these three strands, with a certain amount of monologing about past regrets, what we should have done, who we miss, what we’ve seen. This robs the film of much forward momentum, and questions over mob justice, Trump-era individualism and (possibly?) misplaced faith in guns are not explored in sufficient depth to be satisfying, despite the number of people killed by their own guns.  
 
And this brings us to the other possible meaning of the title, Halloween Kills, i.e., the deaths of the film. As mentioned, there are likely more kills here than in earlier Halloween films, kills that are the hallmark of the slasher genre. There’s plenty here for the gore hound, with all manner of body parts being ruined and plenty of pain and suffering on display. An occasional kill is shocking, but they are always nasty, leaving us in no doubt that Michael is very evil, and EVIL DIES TONIGHT (although there is Halloween Ends still to come). This does serve to make him a consistent Bogeyman, rather than being in any way sympathetic, engaging or charismatic. Therefore, although Halloween Kills is disparate and confused, hamstrung by slo-mo style and burdened by excessive lore, it does at least deliver what it says on the (bloody) tin.  ​

While unremarkable, the second of this year’s Welcome To The Blumhouse offerings is a marked improvement on its predecessor. The story follows Shawna (Asjha Cooper), a teenager whose worries of unrequited love and a drug-addicted mother are worsened by the emergence of bloodsuckers preying on New Orleans’ disenfranchised. As she recounts, this would be the summer she got breasts and fought vampires.

Aiding her are loyal best-friend Pedro (Fabrizio Guido), vampire fanatic Granya (Abbie Gayle), and athletic love-interest Chris (Mason Beauchamp), down-to-Earth characters whose growing relationships are conveyed well by the performers. Their worries about parents, romance, and moving away are interrupted by a supernatural situation arising.

Depicted with glowing red-eyes and animalistic snarling, the vampires don’t stray far from the standard depiction. A strong addition is how garlic’s effects are likened to tear gas, and one wishes there were more reinventions like this. Otherwise, it’s the traditional fangs and staking reducing them to dust ala Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

An inspired part of Sherman Payne’s screenplay is how vampires are used to talk about the injustices Black people have faced. From the villain originating as a slave to how Hurricane Katrina lingers in resident’s memories, it’s a thoughtful perspective which sits well alongside Shawna’s self-esteem issues. She worries about how dark her skin colour is, something she’s told makes her lack beauty and prevents her from trying out for the dance team.
​
Director Maritte Lee Go does good work with the character-building moments, although the action-focused beats feel lacking. Between some scenes being too darkened and a sometimes frantic feeling, it can be difficult to make out what’s happening. Spare a thought for Tunde (Sammy Nagi Njuguna), a late-addition whose arrival promises so much yet delivers very little. He can’t even be called an exposition device, as the all-intrusive voiceover gets there first, rendering the character as needless. Thankfully there’s enough decent elements to make a passable vampire flick.

After releasing four films in 2020, Welcome To The Blumhouse has returned for a second year. The opening film unfolds in Oak Springs, a decaying neighbourhood littered with “For Sale” and “Going Out of Business” signs. While the community fights against gentrification, their beloved bingo hall is sold to an evil force. 

Central to this story are these loving neighbours, and the bonds are certainly felt within this community. As they spend time looking after one another, enjoying chatting and playing bingo, it’s easy to buy into their connections. While their neighbourhood falls apart, the characters feel time passing them by and refuse to take it lying down. Adriana Barraza puts a spirited performance into Lupita, the leader who’s protective of the neighbourhood after devoting so much to cleaning it up. Her best friend, Dolores (L. Scott Caldwell) is coping with a grandson acting out, a result of his mother’s dissatisfaction with life. 

Intruding on this community is the enigmatic Mr Big (Richard Brake), played as a Vegas showman hosting the National Lottery draw with a creepy smile. Sinister ideas are in play as he ensnares residents, which makes it unfortunate how unsightly these scenes are. Between the constant close-ups, excessive colour grading, and tilted angles, director Gigi Saúl Guerrero’s attempts to capture the horror don’t work. There’s a distinct lack of scares and thrills, sadly replaced by boredom which extends to much of the runtime. 
​
Written by Guerrero, Shane McKenzie, and Perry Blackshear, the screenplay resembles a lesser episode of an anthology series. Between the set-up and the envisioned ending, there’s a notable lack of ideas in the middle which leaves the story to drag its feet with haphazard filler. What’s left is a heavy-handed tale about how money’s the root of all evil, yet some cash towards another draft of the screenplay would’ve been appreciated. ​

Ted Bundy. A name that may strike terror or induce an eye-roll. Since his incarceration and execution, serial killer Ted Bundy has become the subject of many a dramatic retelling, with the result that he is remembered as much as a celebrity as a murderer. As a result, do we really need another film about someone who was, in every possible sense, an awful human being?  
 
Director Amber Sealey and writer Kit Lesser suggest that we do not need such a film. Instead, ‘No Man of God’ is a film about Bill Hagmaier, the FBI profiler who spent years interviewing Bundy and, in the process, aided in the understanding of murderers as well as gaining a relatively close relationship with the convicted serial killer. As played by Elijah Wood, who also serves as producer, Hagmaier is a thorough professional, committed to his task of profiling Bundy with psychological documentation but without the bullishness or perversity that might typically be used for such a character. Rather, he is the epitome of the mild-mannered all-American, often framed in relation to his faith as he prays before leaving his house, touches a cross that hangs from his rear-view mirror, diligently writing reports at his desk and talking patiently with his son. It is easy to see why Hagmaier’s boss, Roger Depue (Robert Patrick), trusts him with this important role but also worries about him as Hagmaier’s work on Bundy increasingly places him in an uncomfortable public eye.  
 
Aside from scenes at Quantico, much of the film takes place at Florida State Prison where Bundy awaits execution, especially in the interview rooms where the two men meet. Despite being largely a film of two people talking, ‘No Man of God’ is far from being staid or sedentary. The narrow spaces are filled with the magnetic presences of the two men, Wood’s large eyes and perpetually boyish face expressing both a sense of wonder and detachment. As Bundy, Luke Kirby is electrifying, charismatic without being charming, monstrous but undeniably human. When Bundy describes Hagmaier as his best friend, he seems honest in the words but indifferent nonetheless. These interchanges recall the best (and most frightening) moments of ‘The Silence of the Lambs,’ suggesting what that film might have been like had it consisted primarily of Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter’s conversations.  
 
The other performances are also committed, especially Aleksa Palladino as Bundy’s lawyer Carolyn Liberman. The contradiction of Liberman defending a man who happily killed women much like her is apparent to the viewer but never laboured, and her passionate opposition to the death penalty is palatable. Never do Liberman and Hagmaier become antagonistic, not least because Hagmaier has no connection to Bundy’s legal case, purely his psychological one. As the conversations continue over several years, Hagmaier becomes a regular fixture around the prison, the guards and administrators accepting him as one of their own. Nonetheless, the prison is never less than harrowing. Cinematographer Karina Silva captures the tight spaces where the sharp angles of Kirby’s face seem to jut against the walls, which helps to make Bundy an unsettling presence despite the lack of on-screen violence. A late sequence between Bundy and Hagmaier takes place in a gymnasium hall, and despite the wider space Hagmaier never seems more trapped than he does here as Bundy narrates his stalking and killing technique. The sequence is chilling in its naked confrontation with cold human savagery, a nakedness lacking in the propagandistic interviews that TV evangelist Dr James Dobson (Christian Clemenson) conducts with Bundy.  
 
The sensationalist air of Dobson’s interviews points to the ongoing interest in serial killers within wider culture, an interest that this film enters into dialogue with. Serial killers occupy, in some cases, a literal celebrity status, even the fictional ones. This status can point to a cultural morbidity, depending on the form that our interest takes. This interest fuels the cinematic serial killer genre, television series and true crime documentaries and podcasts, which can become exploitative and even hold up these murderers as some sort of counter-cultural heroes. Through a focus on Hagmaier and interest in profiling, as well as the portrayal of Bundy as an intriguing object rather than an interesting person, ‘No Man of God’ delivers a sober portrait of a profession somewhat lacking in cinematic treatment. Moreover, the film presents engagement with the phenomenon of serial murderers as an investigation into banal violence rooted in misogyny more than anything else. Rather than being any sort of rebel, Bundy comes across as a woman hater who was simply more violent than any number of men who abuse women, or perhaps was more ostentatious and therefore got caught. This makes the film all the darker, as the seemingly incomprehensible becomes every day, dissected under a verbal microscope in all its grotesque mundanity. The combination of clinical presentation with human expression results in an intriguing, sometimes disturbing and always compelling watch.  ​