Urban Legend (1998) Dir: Jamie Blanks

Scraping the bottom of the Scream barrel, this was dull as pond scum.

The plot:
A college campus, infested only with beautiful young things, is suddenly traumatised when mysterious deaths begin to occur. There seems no connection between the victims, until someone realises that all of the murders are played out in the guise of one sort of urban legend or another.

And that's it.
That's the hook.
No Indian burial ground.
No ancient curse invoked when a gypsy women is run over by an 18 wheeler.
Hell, not even an entity from a parallel dimension sent through to experiment on mankind, to weaken us, ready for the invasion.
Nope, instead we have a killer who wanders around in a grey parka, with the hood up.
Ooooohhhhh, I'm really scared.
Mommy, mommy, come hide me from the nasty man in the Parka with the woolly hood.
Insufferably safe and middle of the road, this really is aimed at the amoeba end of the cinema digesting spectrum.
This spawned two sequels, incidentally and, rest assured, they will remain unwatched.
Rubbish!

2 out of 5

Halloween 6: The Curse of Michael Myers (1995) Dir: Joe Chappelle

It's part 6 of a slasher franchise, so you pretty much know what to expect, and there are no real surprises.

The plot:
Six years after Michael Myers' initial killing spree in Carpenter's classic original, the masked maniac is back to finish off what he started: kill all the Strode's.
Along the way we encounter a dysfunctional family unit, a vaguely Satanic radio broadcast and more gore than we've seen before.

That's all folks.
The only points worth noting here are one super-cool back reference to Halloween 2, as Michael wanders around a spooky hospital at night, and the fact that his sinister mask seems to have had a make-over, so he now looks even more chilling than usual.
Average slasher fodder, then.

3 our of 5

Conquest of the Planet of the Apes (1972) Dir: J. Lee Thompson

Movie number four in the original series, and the one that would be used some 29 years later as the basis for the recent Rise of the Planet of the Apes.

The plot:
In 1983, a mysterious virus eliminates all of the cats and dogs in the world, leading humans to take in apes as pets and it's not long before the animals are being used by their masters to assist with household chores.
Skip forward eight years to 1991, and the world has taken to exploiting apes as slave labour.
Caesar, the offspring of Cornelius and Zira, is a lone speaking ape, though this is a secret known only to his friend and master Armando.
Witnessing the brutalising of apes by humans in SS style uniforms, Caesar can hold his tongue no longer, and calls out an insult.
Identified now, Caesar becomes a target for the authorities - a talking ape is a dangerous precedent - and Caesar is forced to go into hiding but, secretly, he begins to train the rest of his kind, before leading them in an uprising against their former masters.

And it's captivating stuff.
Roddy McDowall, though caked in ape make-up, does a sterling job of wringing every last drop of pathos out of the plight of poor Caesar.
The realisation, though minimal due to the tightness of the budget, is nonetheless effective, as human society is portrayed as a fascistic, cold-hearted construct, humiliating and taking advantage of those who are weaker.
With a rousing finale that really does catch the breath in the throat, for a fourth outing in a franchise this is quality stuff indeed, and it's easy to see why this one was selected as the basis for a 21st century reimagining.
A genuine cult classic

4 out of 5

Doomwatch (1972) Dir: Peter Sasdy

Massively over-wrought full length feature version of the paranoid seventies BBC classic.

The plot:
Pollution watchdog agency Doomwatch are drafted in when something strange seems to be affecting a small island community.
The fish the locals rely on for their livelihoods are getting ever larger and, more troublingly, it seems anyone who eats the produce begins to transform: skulls thicken, jaws begin to jut, limbs begin to change shape.
What is it that is causing the mutation to both fish and people alike?
And could it have anything to do with the stretch of water sealed off by the Ministry of Defence?

Whilst the TV show from which this spawned was brooding and melancholic, this is instead melodramatic and plain irritating. Coming across more like a slightly higher budget 'Play for the Day' this seems frankly amateurish on occasion and the lead actor, Ian Bannen, playing Dr. Del Shaw is utterly absurd.
As an avid fan of British 70's sci-fi, I had high hopes for this, but those with similar interests would do better to give this a miss and instead check out The Doombolt Chase, or Pertwee era Doctor Who.
Dismal and dreary, this bored me, I'm afraid.

2 out of 5

Puppet Master III: Toulon's Revenge (1991) Dir: David DeCoteau

There are some horror franchises which really make you glad to be alive.
The Puppet Master series is one of them.

The plot:
It's World War 2, and Hitler is running rampant across Europe. Not by himself, admittedly, but you take the point.
A puppeteer of extraordinary talent, André Toulon, performs a show that makes a mockery of The Führer. When evil Major Krauss - played by the wonderfully deviant-looking Richard Lynch - gets wind of this, the show is shut down, Toulon imprisoned. But Toulon's journey does not end there, as one sharp eyed Nazi spied that his puppets seemed to have a life of their own and, upon further investigation, discovers that Toulon was injecting the wooden creatures with a mysterious, life giving substance.
Well, as sure as a sense of deep guilt and profound disappointment follows masturbation, Krauss wants to get his hands on the substance, to please Herr Führer and, possibly, to win the war for Germany.

Patent nonsense, of course, but it's all done with such a knowing sense of mischief that it matters not one jot. Everyone involved clearly knows it's a load of old cobblers and decide, to hell with it, let's just enjoy the ride
Made by Full Moon Productions, you can expect pretty low production standards and dodgy acting, just as we have come to know and love.
For those not familiar with the Puppet Master series, this is really just about the dolls, and specifically their powers:

Blade - Sinister looking MoFo who, yep, slashes everything in sight with a knife.
Jester - Harlequin doll with a head split into three parts that rotate independently. Doesn't really do much, but looks pretty cool.
Pinhead - Massive body. Tiny head. Very strong. Much like my cock.
Tunneler - Atop the head is a rotating drill that can be used to burrow through things: walls, mattresses, human flesh.
Leech Woman - Once the victim is immobilised by the rest of the gang, Leech Woman leers over them and regurgitates a leech straight down their food pipe.

They're a crazy bunch.

With ten films in total in the series, they can't all be good but, truth be told, I'm yet to see a bad one.
Like this!

4 out of 5

Near Dark (1987) Dir: Kathryn Bigelow

Kathryn Bigelow's vampire horror / Spaghetti Western fusion is an enjoyable beast.

The plot:
Caleb Colton is an everyday sort of schlub. Working as a farm boy in the Midwest, there's not much going on in his life, save for the ridiculous squareness of his jawline and the fact he will one day turn into Nathan Petrelli from Heroes.
One night, idling away some time, he spies a beautiful woman by herself, eating ice cream and, being the kind of smooth operator that makes you want to throw acid in his face, he wanders over. Seeming interested, the pair spend the night together, though in a Platonic sense for the most part. As dawn approaches the girl, Mae, becomes agitated and, in one last moment of intimacy, bites him on the neck before fleeing.
Now, Caleb's world is turned inside out.
He attempts to find his way home, but struggles, the sunlight beaming down seeming to scorch his body and, just as he nears the farm, a blacked out caravan appears and he is bundled inside, surprised to find Mae within, along with her' family' of vampires.
Turned, now, Caleb must join the bloodsuckers, but his reluctance to take a life for himself will inevitably cause trouble in the not too distant future for the group.....

Played pretty low-key, this is an interesting take on the vampire mythos, as here we are afforded a glimpse within the world of the nocturnal ones. Indeed, the PoV of the movie is that the vampires are our heroes, the ones we root for, even as they are committing appalling crimes.
Bigelow is renowned as being one of the most muscular directors in the business, despite her profound lack of a penis, and it's in evidence again here, with more testosterone in places than you could shake a tiny blue pill at. It's also worth noting that she was, at this point, married to one James Cameron. Nothing unusual about that, I guess, but the connection is clear on screen. Several scenes either relate to The Terminator, or would go on to be effectively replayed in Terminator 2. Also, three of the main cast from Cameron's own Aliens make up the vampire clan (Hudson, Bishop and Vasquez, for the geeks out there).
As Firefly would several years later, here the Western genre is successfully fused with an alternative, less predictable format, and the strangeness of that adds a real visual appeal, and is played with on occasion; lingering shots of spurs; riding into a deserted town on horseback; bandits with a price on their head.
Though certainly not a movie for gore-hounds, as the bloodshed is minimal in the extreme, this is interesting enough to be a recommendation to anyone wishing to see an alternate take on two different genres.
Splice-meisters, if you will.
So yeah, if you consider yourself a Splice-meister, check this out,.
If not, well, just bloody piss right off, then.

4 out of 5

Bronson (2008) Dir: Nicolas Winding Refn

A UK movie based on a true story?
Not usually the kind of thing that floats my boat, but encouraging reviews and a lead actor of interest made me dip my toe.
I'm glad I did.

The plot:
Michael Peterson was a troubled lad. Never really getting on at school, he seemed to have no grasp of right or wrong. Where others would blanch at the idea of punching out their teacher, Michael barely batted an eyelid.
After leaving school, Michael lands a job peeling spuds at the local chippy, when the serving wench catches his eye. Having no money, he decides to rob the local post office to get the money to take her out, and swiftly finds himself incarcerated.
So begins a career in prison that, for the most part, would be spent in solitary confinement.
Changing his name to Charlie Bronson, in honour of the Death Wish star, Peterson is comfortable with life on the inside, enjoying the physical confrontations with fellow inmates and prison warders so that, with the help of the alter ego, it's not too long before his record breaking time inside becomes all that can possibly define him.

And this is thought provoking stuff.
Director Rifn chooses an unusual mode to deliver his message, as Bronson is on a stage, addressing an enraptured audience, who cheer and gasp at appropriate places. It's a fantastical approach, and one that very nearly serves to sever the umbilical between engaged viewer brain and on screen action, but he just about gets away with it due to Tom Hardy's mesmerising performance as Bronson.
Last seen in Warrior, as the enigmatic Tommy, Hardy is fast becoming quite the favourite down here at Smell the Cult HQ, and here his is an all engaging presence. Muscular, powerful, charismatic and, on occasion, utterly unreadable, this is a character study with real depth. At least twice, his performance is so convincing it freezes the blood: "What the fuck do you know about what I need?"
Demanding answers to questions that can never be given, this is a movie that makes the viewer question the very concept of the penal system: what purpose does imprisonment serve for one who enjoys being imprisoned?
With his journey through the correctional system charted in ludicrous detail, from normal prison, to an insane asylum, back to the real world before the whole cycle begins again, taking in a period on the roof of a prison, mid-riot, captured for a nation's entertainment by circling helicopters, all sides of his existence are explored.
Talking of cyclical, there are patterns here, too. As the real life Peterson was informed by Charles Manson, so too director Oliver Stone was informed by Charlie Bronson when crafting his Mickey and Mallory tale in Natural Born Killers as, here too, all Bronson is really interested in is infamy. And, if you don't believe me, just check out Woody Harrelson's choice of sunglasses.....
Gripping, intelligent, with a truly epic performance at its heart, this is rock solid stuff, only docked a point due to the strange 'on stage' choice of the director.

4 out of 5

Immortals (2011) Dir: Tarsem Singh

"From the producers of 300" screamed the billboards and posters on the sides of buses, a proclamation that should surely freeze the blood in your veins, not because of the association with 300, a fine example of swords and sandals splatter that thoroughly entertained, but because any film whose most laudable claim is it is made by people who have, you know, made something else, must surely be viewed with suspicion.
Still, into battle we plunged, regardless, Mrs. Mo and I, to test our mettle against the finest Ancient Greece could throw at us:

The plot:
Theseus, an everyman sort who just happens to be built like the proverbial brick shithouse, is a man on a mission. Protected by Zeus - though he is unaware of this - he feels it is his destiny to save his people from the evil tyranny of King Hyperion, a man with a mission of his own: to get his grubby, steroid bloated mitts on The Epirus Bow, a weapon so powerful it can be used to unleash The Titans, imprisoned beneath a mountain by the Gods, there to dwell for all eternity.
So, the Gods observe the mortal struggle beneath, forbidden by Zeus to intervene unless The Titans are indeed released, but Athena and some other God are none too keen to follow the rules....

Confused?
Well, you should be, but it matters not one jot as the plot is the purest nonsense, and merely serves as a vehicle for much chest-beating and pompous speech-making and rabble rousing, as well as the occasional burst of the old ultra-violence.
Whilst everything about this is a load of old cock-rot, I couldn't help but be swept along by the sheer theatre of it all, as muscular, oiled men and buxom wenches paraded around in togas, the ensemble completed by the fake, epic backdrop that 300 made such splendid use of.
Talking of oiled young men, in one moment of genuine post-modern genius, the plot calls for a bunch of swarthy sorts to swim through an ocean of oil so that, when they emerge, they are glistening and smeared, compelled to drench their forms in water to rid themselves of the slick. I laughed out loud at the audacious home-eroticism of the whole thing.
Marvellous.
My personal deviances aside, this is a rollicking good swords and sandals fantasy that, with just a shade more action, could have easily reached the bombastic heights of 300.
It didn't, but it wasn't a million miles away, either.

4 out of 5

Friday the 13th (2009) Dir: Marcus Nispel

Remember the good old days?
Eh?
When horror was either about atmosphere or campy silliness.
When you could go into your local video store and tell from the cover whether you were going to like a movie or not.
When the aim of every horror film was not simply to be more nasty than the last one and when, here's a thought, the genre didn't take itself so damned seriously.
See, Friday the 13th was a slasher film. And not a particularly classy one, being a fairly transparent attempt to cash in on the phenomenal success of Carpenter's Halloween.
But it was a whole lot of fun.
Parts 1 and 2 are good, with part 3 being a genuine slasher classic, as Jason dons the hockey mask for the first time (Jason wasn't the killer in part 1, and in part 2 he wore an old sack over his head to hide his identity, just so you know) and sets about trying to kill everyone Corey Feldman holds dear. Indeed, the Feldman "Die, die, die" sequence is something quite remarkable to behold. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpUJqXud9zI
Sure, after that the franchise went on an inexorable slide into hideous awfulness, but let's not dwell on that.
Now, some 29 years after the release of the original, the dreaded remake and, horror upon horror, it's exec. produced by that cinematic shit-sprayer Michael Bay.

The plot:
In a series of flashbacks, movies 1 and 2 are dealt with so, within five minutes, Jason has the mask and within twenty, he's dispatched a whole gaggle of teenage types.
Skip to present day, and another bunch of imbeciles rock up at Camp Crystal Lake for some weed and booze and sex related hi jinx only to be picked off one by one.

All very much as we would expect, then.
But there's one massive issue here.
It's utterly, utterly shit.
I mean, inexcusably so.
Director Marcus Nispel, the hack behind the Texas Chain Saw remake and the Conan the Barbarian remake - see the pattern? What a wanker - delivers something so dreadfully lifeless, no matter the pain and misery inflicted on the mobile planks of wood on screen, you really won't give a damn one way or the other.
The colour palette selected by the Nispel moron is a hideous combination of greens and browns, all muddied together so that you can barely see a fucking thing that's happening
Worse, the whole format is warped. By seeing the events of part 2 played out in flashback, then starting the movie proper, he's just repeating himself. Now, admittedly the original movies were pretty repetitive, but at least they were self-contained dullathons, and didn't echo in some grotesque feedback loop within their own runtime.
This does.
Deliberately.
With more gore in the first twenty minutes than the original three movies managed combined, the objective here is plain: throw some blood at the camera to hide the woeful lack of atmosphere and soul.
Anyone who tells you this is any good really understands nothing at all about horror, and really should have their eyes gouged out for their own good. They clearly don't need them.
Marcus Nispel, Michael Bay, I hate you and everything that you stand for.
Please. Just. Stop.

1 out of 5

In Time (2011) Dir: Andrew Niccol

Here's how it works:
Twice a year, for a few months, Hollywood churns out a bunch of old guff. Big budget, high concept, massive special effects movies that are as soulless as a fluffer three years into the job. It happens over summer, from May to mid-August, then again over the Christmas / holiday period, so December to February.
These movies are usually offensively poor, whose single intention is to squeeze money from people too stupid to know any better.
Then, happily, they go away for a bit and, in their place, come interesting, modest little curios such as this, from the mind of writer, producer, director, coffee maker Andrew Niccol, the man previously behind the equally good Truman Show and Gattaca.

The plot:
It's the future, perhaps, and people live for 25 blissful years free of worry. Then, the second they turn 25, their clock switches on, and they only have a year left to live. To earn more time, they must work, steal, beg and, to buy goods or services, their precious time must be spent.
See, if you haven't figured it out already, time is the currency.
The amount of time an individual has left is displayed digitally on their forearm, for all to see, acting as a constant reminder of their own mortality.
One man, Will Salas (Lustin' Jimbertake), decides he has had enough of the current system, his rebellion prompted by witnessing the death of his own mother, the delectable Olivia 'Thirteen' Wilde.
His actions trigger a response from the authorities, with Time Keepers sent in to put a stop to his meddling.
But, as we all know, time stops (sic) for no man......

It's a great premise, Niccol once more delivering a bleak, semi-real sci-fi environ that would make Blake 7 proud.
It has to be said, Niccol is always one to watch as, though he delivers few movies, they do tend to be interesting, the only real blot on his copybook being the ultra-bland Al Pacino vehicle S1mone.
Here, those looking for laser battles and gibbering alien nasties will be sorely disappointed, but if something a little more cerebral gets your sexy juices flowing, this could be worth a goosey.

4 out of 5

Let the Right One In (2008) Dir: Tomas Alfredson

The original, Swedish offering, remade 2 years later for the illiterate, subtitle-phobic English speaking market as simply Let me In. Given that the storyline is identical, which is better? The plot: A teenage boy, Oskar, is a sensitive sort. Bullied at school, with no obvious friends, his is a solitary existence. One day, outside his block of flats, he encounters a young girl named Eli; mysterious, reclusive, she captivates him at the same time as scaring him just a little. Eli, it seems, has no parents, living instead with her grandfather, a man who loves her so unconditionally that, when hunting for her and failing, he is prepared to pour acid over his own face to disguise his identity. Estranged, Eli now has no-one to turn to but Oskar and, he in turn, has no-one in his own life save for Eli. So, an unlikely union is forged, one born of virginal inquisitiveness, utter desperation and sheer, total isolation. Beautifully captured, this is a study in subtlety and understatement. The two young actors are magnificent, the chemistry absolute, and at no stage does any of this feel forced, artificial. A horror movie? Well, yes and no. It certainly plays with horror themes, but in a way that will clearly disappoint those interested purely in gore and violence. Studied, intelligent, introspective, this is just a shade above the remake which, though worthy, was ultimately an exercise in futility. This is very, very good indeed. 5 out of 5