THE COLLECTOR (2009) - 1/5 stars

Release: 2009

Director: Marcus Dunstan

Writer: Marcus Dunstan & Patrick Melton

Cast: Josh Stewart, Michael Reilly Burke, Andrea Roth, Juan Fernandez, Karley Scott Collins, Madeline Zima, Robert Wisdom

Soundtrack: Jerome Dillon

Claim to fame: from the writers of the "Feast" series and "Saw IV-VI"

Rating: 1/5 stars

Yesterday I talked about how the horror movie "Dread" was a nice change of pace for the genre, in that it generally steered clear of cliche and took place in the unfamiliar (for horror flicks) setting of a college campus. Well, if "Dread" was all about avoiding cliche then 2009's "The Collector" is an exercise in embracing them. Actually, I'm not even sure if this movie is cliche or just completely unimaginative.

When people talk about the decline of Western civilization, "The Collector" is the kind of movie they're talking about. That might seem a little harsh. But when critics are tearing apart these movies ("Saw" and "Hostel" and the like), they're doing so because they secretly fear the person in the theater who's actually getting a half-chub while someone onscreen is having pliers taken to their tongue.

This is actually probably the smartest way to watch "The Collector"

Whether or not those people exist, you can can sense the dread among the critical elite that our entertainment is subtly being shifted and geared towards those kinds of folks. There's the notion that when hairless, orange-colored people bumping uglies online doesn't do it for you anymore, you move on to the next big thing - which is realistically simulated violence.

I don't really care about all that. Well, actually I do, but for the purposes of this blog the issue is kinda neither here nor there. Horror, like any genre really, is cyclical. Back in the eighties, critics were so offended by the graphic puppet and make-up effects of John Carpenter's "The Thing" that they literally labeled it pornography. In the intervening years, it's gone on to rightfully be considered a classic. The issue is, Carpenter was an artist; every aspect of "The Thing" was finely crafted, from the music and the lighting to the performances and, yes, the beautifully grotesque special effects.

"This will go nice in my collection of...err...what exactly do I collect again?"

In comparison, nearly every facet of "The Collector" is lazily slapped together. The plot concerns a sort of handyman/cat burglar named Arkin. During the day, he scopes out a house by doing work on it and then returns at night to lay claim to the family safe. When the movie starts, he's doing his latest job because his ex-wife desperately needs to pay off some loan sharks. Now, this is the kind of stuff that you would think the movie would spend time elaborating on: character motivation.

But no. Arkin's wife and young daughter are given the briefest amount of screentime possible. It doesn't help that lead actor Josh Stewart seemingly…can't act. Either that or he's trying way too hard to be low-key. Regardless, he plays a guy who should seem down on his luck and have at least some of the audience's sympathy, but thanks to Stewart just comes across as creepy.

"I'm not a creeper. I swear."

Arkin returns to the house later that night. The plan is simple: the family is on vacation so all he has to do is break in, steal an expensive jewel from their safe, and get out of there in time to save his wife from the loan sharks. A wrench is thrown in the gears, however, when Arkin discovers he's not the only one in the house. The family themselves never got the chance to go on vacation and they're now held captive by a serial killer. Can Arkin save those who are trapped in the house, including a little girl who reminds him of his own daughter? Can he even save himself?

Very quickly, any sense of believability (or credibility, for that matter) is thrown out the window. The Collector wears a mask that is a blatant rip-off of the mask that David CRONENBERG wore in Clive BARKER's "Nightbreed" movie. And it's not even a respectful homage like the Scarecrow's mask in "Batman Begins." It's just an out-and-out copy. Pay attention, because this is the makers of the "Saw" sequels…shamelessly stealing from horror icons like Cronenberg and Barker.

"Oh shit, did we just rip off 'Nightbreed'? My bad, my bad."

Straining the audience's suspension of disbelief, The Collector has the house wired with traps. Now, we're not just talking about a few bear traps scattered in the living room (though they're there), we're talking elaborate traps that actually have machinations *inside the walls themselves*, chandeliers with steak knives inside them (how'd The Collector get up to the ceiling to attach them?), acid on bedroom floors, criss-crossing wires and impromptu guillotines.

This raises so many questions, it's not even funny. How in the world did this guy get the house completely wired with his traps, to the point where they almost seem like a part of the house itself? Considering that he already has everyone tied up in the basement, who exactly are the traps for?

Not even those burglars in "Home Alone" had it this bad

And that's not even stopping to ask: why is this guy called The Collector? It's ostensibly because he always keeps one of his last victims alive and inside this large box. He lugs the box around in his van, drops it in the middle of his new victims' house, lets them discover it, and then proceeds to have his torturous way with them. It really doesn't make any sense. I mean, what's the point of keeping someone alive in the box…just to frighten your new victim? Except according to the film's prologue, he doesn't let the surprise of "Oh my God, someone is still alive and trapped inside this box inside my living room!" sink in long before he grabs the poor sap and ties them down to be poked and prodded.

What this comes down to is that The Collector is not a compelling horror villain. At first, he seems interesting enough; despite his "Nightbreed" mask, I liked the way the character moved throughout the house without saying a word and displaying no visible emotion. The Collector was scary precisely because we knew nothing about him - he could be anyone! - and his methods were methodical to the extreme. I realize it's a delicate balance for writers to keep their movie monster shrouded in mystery and yet have enough of a personality and backstory that horror fans can latch on to them. But characters with a sense of anonymity and a single-minded sense of purpose? They're scary. Scary because they seem unstoppable.

However, all of that got tossed out the window when the family's teenage daughter returns home in the middle of the night with her boyfriend and the two begin to get heavy - the Collector actually crouches down, partially out of sight, and starts to watch them. He then grotesquely licks his lips when the girl's breasts are exposed, which pretty much killed anything interesting about him for me. Alright, so he's just a loathsome pervert in a mask who gets off on voyeuristic sex and violence. I mean, he's basically the exact kind of person who critics like Roger Ebert are afraid is watching this movie!

"They call him The Collector...I don't know why, or what he collects

exactly, but the script is telling me to tell you that! So now you know!"

"The Collector" basically plays out like a "Home Alone" revamp for adults, with Arkin trying to dodge The Collector's macabre traps. The lighting, set design, and editing style are all borrowed from "Saw," making this film seem more derivative than it really should. Director Marcus Dunstan cut his chops by writing "Feast," "Saw IV," "Feast 2," "Saw V," "Feast 3," and "Saw VI." Whew.

Now, I don't take the genre so seriously that I can't enjoy the first "Feast" film, but it doesn't take the most discerning critic to realize that Dunstan's filmography isn't the most exemplary display of talent in the horror realm. "The Collector" was really Dunstan's chance to prove himself as a credible horror filmmaker - he co-wrote and directed the project himself - but he instead sticks to what he knows. Which is, basically, shlock for the sake of shlock.

This would be considered dark and edgy...if, you know, a million

industrial music videos hadn't done it already in the early 90's

Get a green-hued room with dirty tiled walls (don't worry if you have to color-code the film on a computer in post-production), make sure there are some fluorescent lights - flickering, of course - that the camera can repeatedly cut to, strap a weeping actor to a chair, and then splash some red corn syrup everywhere and you've got yourself a MOVIE. Right? Oh, and don't forget that a nihilistic ending, where even the morally questionable "good guy" is hacked to bits, is a must. We've got to ensure there's room for a sequel, after all.

But "The Collector" can't even get this formula right. The make-up effects are painfully low-budget (a scene where a guy has his fingers cut off looks like a bunch of flesh-colored clay digits flying through the air). The only standout scene moment is when a guy lands backwards onto the living room full of bear traps. Now that's a spectacular way to go. What's really unsettling is how "The Collector" tosses in violence against animals for seemingly no reason. Dunstan manages to slice a cat in half and literally blow up a German Shepherd in less than 80 minutes.

Get used to this color scheme cause it permeates the film

I know, I know: some people would say it's hypocritical to decry violence against animals in a movie that is all about perpetrating violence against humanity. But deep down, we all know that we've got it coming. Humans are the worst and most cruel species on earth. That's why we can watch these kinds of movies guilt-free. When was the last time you mourned the death of a horny teenager in a "Friday the 13th" movie?

But a family cat howling in pain as it's burned alive by acid and then sliced in half by a giant blade isn't something I really want to see in my horror flicks. Again, it's another element of this movie that seems only there to provoke the audience. You know, so the Beavis and Butt-Head sitting behind you in the theater can turn to each other and go, "Heh heh, dogs blowing up is cool, heh heh."

This movie's creepy, random fascination with spiders did not help endear it to me

If my 1 star rating has to be for anything, let it be for the score provided by Jerome Dillon, former drummer for Nine Inch Nails. His music is a decent-enough sounding pastiche of "The Downward Spiral"-era industrial music, and is in the tradition of other ex-NIN members doing horror movie soundtracks (Charlie Clouser wrote the music for "Saw"). This is the "NIN-loving high school Freshman" trapped inside of me being gracious.

And if it sounds like I'm getting too riled up over this movie, think of this way: you know all the times you've heard someone say "I could write a script better than that!" and you thought to yourself, "Yeah, right"? This is the one time where, yes, just about anybody could write a screenplay better than this. And if it sounds like I'm taking this movie too seriously, think of it THIS way: somebody actually spent $3 million dollars making this dungheap. Three. Million.

Geez. Remember when horror movies were actually FUN

and not just exercises in cruelty?

DREAD (2009) - 3/5 stars

Release: 2009

Director: Anthony DiBlasi

Writer: Anthony DiBlasi (screenplay), Clive Barker (short story)

Cast: Jackson Rathbone, Shaun Evans, Hanne Steen, Laura Donnelly, Jonathan Readwin, Carl McCrystal, Zoe Stollery, Eva Wyrwal, Elissa Dowling, Kirean Murphy

Soundtrack: Theo Green

Claim to fame: a film adaptation of Clive Barker's short story of the same name; one of Lionsgate's "8 Films to Die For" for 2009

Rating: 3/5 stars

"Dread" is part of the '8 Films to Die For'/'Horror After Dark' festival that Lionsgate has been doing for four years in a row now, where the studio picks up a series of low-budget horror movies and give them brief theatrical distribution around Halloween time.

From my experience, most of these films are rather awful and are designed to ride whatever trend is going on in the horror scene that year. The trailers for the 'Horror After Dark' movies annoyingly load at the start of every '8 Films' DVD and do their damnedest to make each film look indistinguishable from one another and resemble the latest "Saw" or "Hostel."

But I wanted to give "Dread" a chance since it's based on a short story by Clive Barker that I've always enjoyed. In my more impressionable years, I went through a phase where I read almost nothing but horror literature: mostly Stephen King, Clive Barker, H.P. Lovecraft, Poppy Z. Brite, and Thomas Ligotti. There's something about the horror genre that seems particularly suited to short fiction, so Barker was always one of my favorites for his "Books of Blood" collection of short stories as well as the novella "The Hellbound Heart," which served as the basis for "Hellraiser."

When translated to the screen, Barker has been pretty hit or mess; while I love "Hellraiser" and "Lord of Illusions," and have a soft spot for "Nightbreed" (which could have been great if it wasn't butchered by the studio), most of the other attempts at translating his work to the big screen have been a failure. If the filmmakers don't understand Barker's work or bother to maintain its integrity, you usually end up with a unruly mishmash of magic, excessive gore, and S&M puked up on screen.

"Hey guys, is this the audition room for 'Twilight'?

Oh God, wait, I'm in a Clive Barker movie?!"

We've seen it happen most recently with "Midnight Meat Train," which had the misfortune of being the first English-language film from Japanese director Ryuhei Kitamura ("Versus," "Godzilla: Final War") - a director who is incredibly stylish, yet would not be my first choice at all to tell the story of what happens under the bowels of New York City at night. That movie's ridiculous climatic scene reduced itself to a schizophrenically-edited brawl between two super-powered aliens, seemingly because that was the only thing Kitamura knew to do.

Thankfully, "Dread" fares much better. It sticks fairly close to its source material, while at the same time taking some liberties to expand it to a 90 minute running time. What's nice is that, while it sometimes does trade in the imagery that is associated with "torture porn," for the most part "Dread" steers clear of horror movie cliche.

Poor bastard

The plot is refreshingly unique for the genre, telling the story of two college students. Jackson Rathbone plays Stephen, the intelligent and sensitive Film major (so sue me if I felt like I could relate to the character), who winds up crossing paths with another student named Quaid in a philosophy class. Qauid is, well, psychotic, basically: manipulative, controlling, violent, and obsessed with the concept of fear.

"I want to scare you...to death."

Not unlike the character of Jonathan Crane AKA the Scarecrow from the Batman comic books, Quaid wants to know what happens to the human mind when it's pushed beyond the boundaries of fear…when you come face to face with the thing that terrifies you the most, that chills you to the very core of your being and that you spend most of your waking hours trying not to think about - do you snap? Or do you become stronger, something more than you were before?

Stephen follows Quaid down this slippery slope, incorporating their study and fascination with fear into a multimedia project to serve as Stephen's Film studies thesis. Since this is a horror movie, I'm sure you can imagine that what can go wrong does go wrong and not everybody makes it out of this little exercise in terror alive. For the most part, it's compelling stuff.

It's not hard to look brooding with lighting like this

Jackson Rathbone is great. I'm sure it'll be a long time before he's taken seriously as an actor, if he ever is, simply because he's got a small role in the "Twilight" series. But I thought he was perfectly suited to this role. He plays Stephen as a good friend and a nice guy, and he has really amazing, gravity-defying hair that I'm jealous of.

Sure, Jackson might falter as an actor when he's called to bring on the heavy stuff - like a scene where he's strapped to a chair and supposed to be summoning the considerable anger his character has built up over the course of the film. But he's in almost every scene of the movie and carries it with aplomb, which is no small feat.

That hair! How does he get such wonderful hair?

Shaun Evans as Quaid, I feel, was miscast. Evans is a good actor and he's got the "psychotic" part of Quaid down, but he forgot the "charismatic" part. Realistically, nobody would keep this guy as a friend. There's nothing likable about the guy other than the fact that he's really, REALLY intense and even then that's not something most folks would put up with for a long time.

There's a scene where Quaid completely destroys all of Jackson's filmmaking equipment, then shows up later to apologize while driving the very same model car that Jackson's brother died in - which he had bought earlier in the film to get Jackson to "test the limits of his fear." At that point, I doubt anyone would stick around to live in Quaid's demented world but since we still have 40 minutes of the movie to go, that's exactly what happens. I also feel that with a more appropriate actor, the homoerotic tension between Stephen and Quaid could have been explored a bit further.

"I'mnotgayI'mnotgayI'mnotgay"

There's a scene earlier on where Quaid visits a strip club. I can't tell if this sequence is entirely gratuitous or actually inventive, but Quaid ends up hallucinating while watching some dancers. I think this part is only included to incorporate your usual Clive Barker "flesh mutilation" moment, as Quaid envisions a dancer's body being inflicted by axe wounds right before his eyes.

Unfortunately, Shaun Evans' facial expressions are so exaggerated and ridiculous - not to mention the poofy pompadour that he inexplicably has only for this scene - that the whole proceeding becomes laughable.

"Oh my God, my parents would kill me if they knew I was at a strip club!"

See, kids? Too much tanning is bad for your skin

Actress Laura Donnelly, who has mostly worked in British television up to this point, turns in a remarkably well-rounded performance as a college girl with a rather noticeable birthmark, something her character has struggled with all her life.

Donnelly really imbues her role with a lot more heart and reality than one would typically expect in a horror movie, let alone one distributed by Lionsgate. She makes the most of her limited screentime and I get the feeling most viewers will find her character to be one of the more memorable parts of the movie. This is definitely an actress to watch.

Laura Donnelly: the horror genre could use more actresses as talented as her

The soundtrack is worth mentioning as well. Whoever chose the song selection for "Dread" definitely has their finger on the pulse of contemporary alternative music. It was a refreshing change of pace to hear bands like M83, Silversun Pickups, and especially The Veils on a movie soundtrack. These are talented, genuinely "alternative" artists and, even better, their songs are used appropriately and memorably throughout the film.

Jackson Rathbone grows reflective while listening to the intense sounds

of M83 and The Veils

With "Dread," we have a well-acted and contempently filmed horror movie, albeit with a few missteps along the way, that does an adequate job of bringing Clive Barker's work to life. That might sound like faint praise but considering how beleaguered with bad "Saw" and Eli Roth imitators we horror fans are these days, I'm more than happy with a horror movie that revolves around dorm rooms and college campuses rather than Eastern European torture chambers.

Jackson Rathbone handily steps out of the looming shadow of "Twilight" and proves that he's able to carry a film on his own terms and Clive Barker doesn't have to live with the baggage of another "Midnight Meat Train"-style catastrophe. The ending of "Dread" might not be that satisfactory for many viewers (the Netflix reviews attest to that), but it ends exactly the way a short horror story would. And since when the credits rolled I felt exactly as though I'd just watched a short story translated to film, "Dread" is earning 3 stars from me.

"They like me...this blog really likes me."

ANTICHRIST (2009) - 3/5 stars

Release: 2009

Director: Lars von Trier

Writer: Lars von Trier

Cast: Willem Dafoe, Charlotte Gainsbourg

Soundtrack: N/A except two appropriated pieces written by Georg Friedrich Händel

Claim to fame: one of 2009's most "shocking" films; won a first ever "anti-award" at Cannes for misogyny; Lars von Trier's attempt at "torture porn"? (read on!)

Rating: 3/5

"Antichrist" was one of 2009's most controversial films, simultaneously outraging critics at the Cannes Films Festival who decried its perceived misogyny and developing a small following cult following of fans who embraced the movie's mantra of "Chaos reigns." Then what happened?

Well, it's 2010 and the world (and when I say "the world" I mean the internet, of course) has since moved on to this year's batch of films that are considered shockingly offensive or borderline-pornographic. Now that the hubbub over Lars von Trier's latest film has died down, perhaps it's time to take a more level-headed look at "Antichrist," which as luck would have it is streaming in high definition via Netflix.

This is not, I repeat "not," the feel good hit of the year

The world of "Antichrist" is comprised entirely of two people, played by Willem Dafoe and singer/actress Charlotte Gainsbourg. They both give phenomenal performances. Dafoe is almost a parody of the ultra-rational psychoanalyst type. After the loss of their child, he buries his own grief deep inside and takes up the task of "healing" his wife to distract himself. Dafoe adopts an extreme clinical detachment towards Gainsbourg, believing he can cure her depression with pyramid charts and fear exercises.

Some of these scenes are hard not to laugh at: instead of comforting or consoling his wife, he views her like she's part of a control group or medical journal study. Considering that Lars von Trier himself suffers from extreme depression and at least some form of obsessive-compulsive disorder, it's not hard to imagine that he's projecting much of his own experiences with doctors onto Dafoe's character. In fact, I spent much of this movie shaking my head, thinking "Trier must really hate his therapist."

Husbands-to-be, take note of everything Willem Dafoe does in this movie

and then do the exact OPPOSITE in real life

Charlotte Gainsbourg is incredible here. Anyone who has listened to her music knows that she has a soothing yet distant, chanteuse-like quality to her voice and it's used quite effectively in "Antichrist." A scene where she is hypnotized to recount her nightmares of traveling through the woods is made highly poetic by the dream-like visuals unfolding onscreen and Charlotte's lulling tones.

Towards the end of the film, when Gainsbourg is asked to summon all the fury of her feminine rage, she really gives her all…no, I mean, really. She goes farther than just about any other actress would have and was clearly fully committed to the role. It's a fearless performance.

Don't fuck with Charlotte Gainsbourg

For a film that seeks to expose the evil inherent in nature and the darkness waiting for all of us there, it's worth noting that "Antichrist" is an almost paradoxically beautiful-looking movie. Although I suppose even that fits the theme of the film, with nature luring us into a false sense of security with its outward appearance.

But there's no getting around it: as photographed by Anthony Dod Mantle, "Antichrist" is gorgeous.

Mantle has previously lensed "28 Days Later," "Julien Donkey-Boy," and "Dear Wendy," all visually striking works. He shot "Antichrist" primarily using Red One cameras, the digital camera that is helping make high-definition digital photography extremely affordable for independent productions.

This is a (relatively) low-budget film with photography that rivals most any Hollywood film. But even amidst the serenity of our characters' surroundings, Trier is quick to peel back the skin and reveal what lies beneath: a stillborn deer fetus, blood-sucking ticks, battering acorns, and a wounded fox who charmingly informs us that "Chaos reigns!"

I'm not gonna lie, this little guy is probably my favorite part of the movie

Don't be misled by the hucksters at Entertain Weekly or Rolling Stone: the fact that "Antichrist" has been likened to "torture porn" is more of a comment on our sensationalist, headline-grabbing media than it is on the film itself. Guilt-wracked, cathartic self-mutilation is about as far from the questionable merits of Eli Roth's "Hostel" as you can get; about all they have in common is the use of special effects prosthetics and make-up.

That said, there are certainly times in "Antichrist" when Lars van Trier could toned things down a bit. If you have to go so far as to hire "porno body doubles" for scenes that your actors won't film, then maybe it's a sign you should suggest rather than depict during that particular scene. Considering how far Dafoe and Gainsbourg are willing to go for Trier's art, I don't think that's an unreasonable request (or a call for self-censorship).

I would do anything for your art, Lars von Trier...but I won't do that.

I.e. show my balls onscreen

The audience for this film is admittedly slim. It's too thoughtful and intentionally-paced for gorehounds and it's too graphic for arthouse critics. All that's left are those viewers who are interested in a "transgressive horror film" and who are willing to experience Trier's bleak, neurotic view of the world without passing immediate judgment on the man.

John Waters said it best when he named "Antichrist" one of his top ten films of the year: "If Ingmar Bergman had committed suicide, gone to hell, and come back to earth to direct an exploitation/art film for drive-ins, [Antichrist] is the movie he would have made." This is a film about making love in Satan's womb. Enter at your own risk.

THE WICKER MAN (2006) - 3/5 stars

Release: 2006

Director: Neil Labute

Writer: Neil Labute, Anthony Shaffer (1973 screenplay)

Cast: Neil LaBute, Nicolas Cage, Ellen Burstyn, Molly Parker, Leelee Sobieski, Frances Conroy, Michael Wiseman, Diane Delano, Tania Saulnier, George Murphy, Megan McKinnon

Soundtrack: Angelo Badalamenti

Claim to fame: box office bomb turned internet cult sensation (not unlike "The Room") thanks to Nicolas Cage's inspired performance - "NOT THE BEES! NO, NOT THE BEES!"

Rating: 3/5 stars

The original 1973 "Wicker Man" is a suspenseful, dark, sometimes-musical Protestant horror film that has endured as a cult favorite for decades. It's safe to say that it's a classic.

Neil Labute's 2006 remake is...not. In fact, the only way this movie has found favor with anyone is as a "so bad it's good" stinker of epic proportions.

Sorry folks, this one shot is about as creepy and Lynchian

as "The Wicker Man" remake gets

Neil Labute is a director who's become notorious for his perceived misogynistic tendencies with movies like 1997's "In the Company of Men" and "Your Friends & Neighbors" - films about the sometimes volatile relationships and conflicts that arise between men and women.

Once a controversial bad boy of the indie scene, for the past few years Neil has arguably been slumming it in recent years with mainstream thrillers like "Lakeview Terrace."

Speaking of slumming it, here's Academy Award-winner

Ellen Burstyn frolicking like a total twit

With his "Wicker Man" remake, I get the impression that Labute thought he was actually making an artful, sophisticated thriller that explores the underlying tension between the sexes. It's not. It's a ridiculous movie that moves at an inept pace and features laughably bad performances from actors that should have known better.

If there's any underlying message to be taken away from this movie, it's something like "don't trust little girls" or "bitches are crazy," the latter of which is also at the root of many hip-hop songs - songs that will take up much less of your time than this 102 minute disaster.

The horror genre has well established that

pale, fair-haired children are not to be trusted

Fortunately, into this maelstrom of suck walks Nicolas Cage, an actor who always knows how to give an unhinged, left-of-center performance to liven up even the dullest of proceedings. One senses that Cage is in on the joke, even if Labute is not.

In a recent interview with Ain't-It-Cool-News, Nic even came out and said: "You don’t karate chop Leelee Sobieski in the throat and not know how absurd that is, but it’s just not something I would like to talk about. I would rather let them [the audience] discover it on their own..."

The thing about Nicolas Cage is that you never know if

he's gonna save your movie or tank it - God bless him

As long as you haven't spoiled the most hilarious moments of this film from watching YouTube clips, then I'd say it is worth discovering on your own. Nic really has a hell of a time in this movie: stealing bicycles at gunpoint, having nightmares-within-nightmares, knocking out women left and right, and screaming "You bitches! You bitches!" at the top of his lungs.

And that's just the beginning.

This scene is just a tease of the bee insanity to come

Not say that "The Wicker Man" is good by any stretch of the imagination, but I can watch Nicolas Cage in any kind of movie as long as it's not the sleepwalking, phoning-it-in Cage. Fortunately here we get the insane, frazzled, yelling Cage.

I mean, from the moment strolled into the movie and actually made me laugh with his delivery of the line "Let me see your license and registration," I knew I was in for a good time. If you're a fan, I imagine you'll similarly enjoy this.

What's hilarious is that in this movie the entire concept of the Wicker Man

feels like an afterthought. They should have just quit while they were ahead.

You know, with the bees.

It's safe to say that most everyone involved here is working below themselves. Even Angelo Badalamenti, one of our greatest modern film composers ("Blue Velvet," "Twin Peaks"), delivers a generic 'suspense movie score' that is missing his usual ambient dread and stirring melodies. That said, Badalamenti's music is one of the few things "The Wicker Man" has going for it.

Some of the actors (like the fellow cop that Nic talks to at the police station near the beginning) give such bizarre line readings, and are edited so strangely, that I can sometimes imagine this version of "The Wicker Man" coming from the same alternate dimension as Tommy Wiseau's "The Room."

Considering how much more Hollywood money and gloss was lavished on this thing compared to "The Room," that's quite an accomplishment on Labute's part.

MY EYES! THEY'RE IN MY EYES!

THE HOUSE OF THE DEVIL (2009) - 2/5 stars

Release: 2009

Director: Ti West

Writer: Ti West

Editor: Ti West

Cast: Jocelin Donahue, Tom Noonan, Mary Woronov, Greta Gerwig, AJ Bowen, Dee Wallace, Heather Robb

Soundtrack: Jeff Grace, The Fixx

Claim to fame: a horror flick set in the early 80's that tries to literally recreate the look of a late 70's/early 80's horror movie, Tom Noonan doing his thing, tries to make Satanic cults scary again

Rating: 2/5 stars

I'd been looking forward to watching "House of the Devil" ever since I caught the trailer for it online back in mid-October of 2009. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a massive disappointment. Writer/director/editor Ti West makes the case that Rob Zombie ("House of 1000 Corpses") and Eli Roth ("Cabin Fever") got it wrong: paying homage to 70's horror doesn't mean loading up your movie with creepy hillbilly characters, an abundance of grotesque violence, and a tongue-in-cheek sensibility. Instead it's about studying the shot composition of directors like John Carpenter and Stanley Kubrick, adding an appreciable level of grain so that the audience knows they are indeed watching film, and maintaining a deadly serious tone throughout. And on a technical level, "House of the Devil" is flawless.

Requesting an audience with his Satanic majesty

It's just that the script so completely lets the audience down. Except for one brief (albeit shocking) moment of violence, absolutely *nothing happens* for the first 70 minutes of this movie. Once you realize you've been in a state of slow-induced dread for most of the movie you grow resentful. It's like your cousin is telling you a spooky story at night and he keeps adding filler to pad things out: "And then the babysitter made popcorn...and then she heard a bump upstairs...and then the pizza guy showed up...and then the faucet started to leak..." Get to the horror already!

Silhouettes can only get you so far, horror directors, before the audience wants some bloodshed!

Despite the fact that this is 2009, the script also has the characters doing the same lame-brained things that kids in 80's horror movies did, inevitably getting them killed. At some point anyone rational person placed in this story would have asked themselves "Is $300 really worth losing my life over?" and gotten the hell out of dodge. Instead our plucky heroine goes dancing around a creepy house - with someone she doesn't want to wake upstairs - while listening to her walkman.

Of course, given the movie's slow pacing, this dance sequence ends up padding things out even further. The movie is constantly hammering into the audience's skull a subplot about a full lunar eclipse, to the point where you just want to yell "I get it! A Satanic plot is underfoot!" Then when the horror finally does ramp up, things turn into a forgettable bloodbath with images from a Cradle of Filth music video spliced in.

The House of the Devil

vs.

Cradle of Filth

Tom Noonan is a character actor I've been watching since I was a little kid, first as Frankenstein's monster in "The Monster Squad" and later as The Ripper in "Last Action Hero." As I got older I discovered his roles in Michael Mann's "Manhunter" and "Heat." The guy is immensely talented and here he delivers a nuanced, unsettling performance. He comes across less as a crazy horror baddie and more like someone suffering from crippling Asperger's syndrome, and he stutters as much as William H. Macy in "Fargo." For this movie it really, really works.

Unfortunately, he's only in "The House of the Devil" for about 10 minutes and you ultimately realize that the film is undeserving of his talent. Similarly, the quintessential 80's suburban mom, Dee Wallace (she was the mom in both "E.T." and one of my personal favorites "Cujo"), shows up in a cameo role. She has a small part but Noonan and her give by far the best performances of the movie.

Noonan gives it his all, no matter what movie he's in

I should note that the movie goes to great lengths to recreate the look and feel of the early 80's, from the clothes to the cars to the interior decorating, and includes The Fixx's "One Thing Leads to Another" in a pivotal scene. At first I was pretty damn impressed but another Netflix reviewer hilariously points out many people are going to be watching this flick on blu-ray and in 5.1 surround sound so the verisimilitude only goes so far. This is a movie that would be best watched on VHS on a 13" TV screen, and funnily enough Ti West sent VHS copies to various reviewers as promotional material.

Notice the era-appropriate hair

If this was Ti West's first film, I'd still mark him as a horror auteur to watch - but considering he's done a few other films, including a direct-to-video sequel to "Cabin Fever" that he's trying to get his name taken off of, I'm not holding out much hope for his future endeavors. "House of the Devil" itself ends on a cliche, predictable note, setting things up for a sequel that I hope we won't have to see.

Ti West - horror auteur or hipster douchebag?