I woke up feeling like a nest of feral gypsies had camped in my mouth. Movement seemed to wake the parasitic creature slumbering in my stomach. I’d hoped it was just undigested booze, but these were dashed when I lit a cigarette and felt something within me unfurl lazily.

It was going to be a long day.

The Horrorthon started early, even earlier for me, who had to arrive and try get the whole people social thing off to a start before I got sucked into the Horrorthon.

I didn’t have long to throw down a breakfast beer, a cup of green tea and a shudderingly large whiskey and coffee.

Needless to say, none of this went down very well. I missed the first bus due to the mournful wailing that’d erupted from the presence within my stomach. And I was left staggering along the street like an extra from ‘God Told Me To’, clutching my belly and deeply regretting having crossed the circle back in Somerset.

I arrived or more rolled in to the IFI smoking area to see Mike bravely fighting his way through a breakfast/hangover pint of Guinness. I wavered, almost caved, then opted for a glass of coke. It was, as loath as I am to admit it, too early. I had work to do, or well something that for some people might pass as work.

Conversation moved from work to films then websites whereupon I discovered Mike co-ran Eatmybrains.com. Aha! The competition. I had just resolved to smother Mike with a clump of napkins and dump his body on some wasteland, Bray or something. When Ed walked over and asked me if he could have a quiet word. Distracted, I followed Ed over to a dark corner of the IFI smoking section.

As it happened, Jay and myself were spotted with the smuggled pints and from that seen passing the bottles back and forth. And I was in trouble. The management had seen. It was against the law. It wasn’t entirely my fault though they should have signs up. It wasn’t the first time I’d been confronted by a screaming madman in a bandana waving a knife in my face, but it was definitely one of the scarier times. And I’m not going to lie or dress the incident up in fancy clothes, just so I wouldn’t do it again, just so if I did it again, I made sure to sneak the booze in, in a coke bottle, just so I would remember. Ed cut me a little, just my ear, a small chunk, but it was enough. From now on, when it came to sneaking booze into IFI screens, I would be sneaky, sneaky like a ferret.

The first film of the day was Friday the 13th II. The first proper Jason movie. I had intended on watching it. But, big screen aside my hangover was starting to clear, beers were ordered and Jay had appeared, looking remarkably fresh and dapper for a man citing both black-out and the sensation of having his brain stewed in booze then eaten by cannibals.

The day began in earnest. This was going to be one of the bigger days; Anders Banke would be introducing his vampire feature ‘Frostbite’. Andrew Deane was arriving and would be introducing the first set of ‘Masters of Horror’ episodes. Bigger than both of those, Lamberto Bava was also arriving and would be introducing ‘Demons’.

‘Pet Sematary’ (Cemetery? Seriously, what the fuck is up with that misspelling of the name) would be the first film I’d manage. It looked good on the big screen and that’s really all I can tell you. Between the infuriating forced laughter from the audience during bits that just weren’t funny. Well, okay, they might have been, were you mildly retarded, in possession of an extra chromosome or had at some point in your life undergone a forced lobotomy.

I could probably have struggled through this, were I not sitting in front of some sort of thing that looked like he was wearing a papier-mâché face. He had a bag of toffees or something in his pocket, which he kept rummaging through. Annoying enough, but once he got one through the gap in his mask into his mouth, this heavy breathing would begin that was somehow akin to what I imagine a Gremlin masturbating sounds like. Top that off with an out of beat, irregular slop that trembled between something sucking the marrow out of a still living child’s elbow and a hand forcing a jaw open.

By the time they’d gotten to the kid running on the road fright, I had developed a nervous tick and had begun twitching. I was pretty thankful when I lapsed into unconsciousness for the rest of the movie.

I might have been snoring, I don’t know, but I woke up suddenly for the end sequence round up of the movie. Which was good enough for me.

I have to say, I like the movie. It definitely ranks up there within the top three of King’s adaptations, which might have something to do with him writing the script. It has some genuinely unpleasant moments and some good scares. I’d give it something like two and a half stars, maybe three at a push.

Next up was ‘Frostbite’ the first full-length feature by Swedish director, Anders Banke.

Before I review this, I have to say, at times, it was hard to watch this movie. I was sitting beside a group of Swedish girls who had several bags of different types of Swedish liquorices. The salty kind and some of the long string kind. Sucking it, licking it, sliding it in and out of their mouths. Running it against their pursed bee-stung swollen lips then hooking their tongues around it to catch the last of their spit before they ran it back through their fingers and into their mouth.

I don’t know whether Anders introduced the movie or not.

I can’t tell you if Magnus said anything.

I barely remember the opening credits.

Having broken out into a cold sweat, I fought a desperate struggle with my coat and managed to free a half bottle of Bushmills. This happened at around the same time the nearest and blondest had rustled free a new length of liquorice and was just starting to press it’s end against her lips. So the first slug went down my front. The next was split between up my nose and my crotch.

Just as I finally managed to get a drink, things began to happen on the screen properly.

Frostbite

Apparently, this is Sweden’s first vampire movie and based on what I’ve seen, I can only hope they keep making them. Anders Banke is a man with talent and one to watch.

The film opens with a flashback to World War II. Well, it sort of stamps open like Steiner’s boot. Which is a problem. As the opening is done so well, you can’t help but spend the rest of the movie wishing Anders had made an entire World War II movie. Something due to the quality of the movie you resolve with yourself to just a quiet whine of hoping he someday turns his hand to a Horror orientated war movie. Or even just a plain and simple war movie. The man has a flair for it.

I’d almost go out on a limb and say it’s worth watching the film for the opening alone. But it’s not, as ‘Frostbite’ is helped along by a glowing script and some excellent performances. In particular Emma Åberg as Vega.

With twitches of both ‘Near Dark’ and ‘Lost Boys’ and the tag line ‘One month until dawn’ the premise is simple. Annika and her daughter Saga have moved to a town in the far north of Sweden, where Annika is to get work in a hospital. From there, you have a mixture of hospital horror, small town claustrophobia and the new teen at school. As the town is so far north, it suffers from those long sunless winter months. Perfect for vampires, why hasn’t anyone thought of this before, what is wrong with you people?

If I stick to my maxim of never revealing too much about a film in a review, I can say that ‘Frostbite’ manages to competently straddle both elements of black comedy and horror. All the scenes involving small dogs and other furry creatures, whether they talk or not, being particularly stand out.

Have a thing against rabbits? Hate small dogs? Then this is the movie for you.

The special effects work well and the dialogue for the most part is snappy and inventive. Rhino Christ, did I just say snappy? What have I become? Well yeah, there’s not much else to say about this, other than while I found the ending somewhat annoying, whenever the film begins to drag, something happens to pick it back up and push it along. Besides, now I can finally scratch death by garden gnome off my list of things to see.

I think that once Anders Banke has a few more features under his belt and has settled into his stride, we can expect even bigger things from the man. That’s not to reflect anything bad against ‘Frostbite’; I just look forward to seeing what he makes once he has more clout within the industry.

Considering I have no problem with either the sound of the Swedish language or reading subtitles, I’d give this a satisfied for what it is three stars.

From ‘Frostbite’ it was off, to the bar and food. Where I met the woman behind the short ‘Shaving the Baby’, Frances Roe. Now while I haven’t seen ‘Shaving the baby’, I know it’s premise and if you believed me about ‘The Fairies of Blackheath wood’ then you have to believe me about this. It’s something to try and track down. Of the people I met at the festival, which I think should just be given money and told to get on with it, Frances figures prominently on this list as I got a few moments to pick her brain and hear about some of the concepts she was kicking about. All of which need to be made.

I tried hastily to eat and jot notes about the proceedings in the short time before the first ‘Masters of Horror’ segment but if I look at the grease stained notes I made, it looks more like the last rantings from the recently discovered journal of a man who was being hunted by something in the dark. Just before he says something like “It’s found me…” and all that’s left is an inky smudge.

I don’t know what I was on about and neither probably would you. I can vaguely make something out about Grizzly, Paul Naschy and the day the earth died screaming.

Andrew Deane introduced the first three ‘Masters of Horror’ and was generally quite a witty and gracious host, answering most if not all the questions shouted to him from across the theatre.

Deer Woman

Episode seven of the first series, this John Landis directed feature was a definite stomper to open on. Starring Brian Benben from the TV series ‘Dream On, I was going to carry on from that sentence, but his name has me mesmirised, is it real? If so, where did it come from, is he related to Yogi Bear?

Anyway…

‘Deer Woman’ is a raging return to form by Landis. A dark horror comedy more than anything else, it is also reminiscent of ‘Dream On’. This tale of an ancient Native American feminist evil delivers at every minute of its sixty odd minutes.

Watch it.

No, don’t nod and say yeah at some point I’ll definitely have to track that down.

Buy the goddamn boxset.

Watch it.

Five stars.

Damned Thing

The first episode of season two and the first sneak preview the people at the Horrorthon were given. This is Tobe Hooper’s second ‘Masters of Horror’ and it was adapted for the screen from Ambrose Bierce’s short story by Richard Christian Matheson. Who just so happens to be the son of Richard Matheson of ‘I am Legend’ fame.

I have a problem with this right from the get go. I’ve read the Ambrose Bierce short story; I have it somewhere in a box in my home. My problem is that, I can’t remember where I put it or the exact run of the story. However, whatever is going on in my subconscious mind, I was satisfied with this, it seemed to run with what scattered bits I could remember.

Sadly, that doesn’t lift this up. This seemed to be met with general dislike from just about everybody I spoke to at the Horrorthon. I seemed to be a singular minority. Although I liked it, it feels hollow. I can’t correctly explain that to you. There is just a plodding limpness to it and part of me can’t help but want to grab Hooper by the nose with a meat hook and scream “Leave the CGI alone Hooper, Let it be, it was not meant for your hands”.

Aside from that, Sean Patrick Flannery (Boondock Saints) is as always watch-able, Ted Raimi enjoyable and the rest of the cast adequate. There are some very good gore scenes, with my favorite being the hammer. That scene just reached out and touched me like a sort of DIY Jesus saying “Find me, edit me out my child and watch me on loop”.

Although portions of this feel like an exercise in Hooper showing off just how fast he can edit. I’ve got to go against the majority and say I enjoyed it. I just wish Hooper would find himself some better scripts and maybe then we could see a proper return to form.

Texas Chainsaw Massacre was not a fluke.

You know who you are…

Two stars

Pro-Life

I come into this one biased. This is John Carpenter. If he never makes another good movie, ‘The Thing’ is enough for me. I can’t quite describe how much I love that movie. It is one of the few films I can watch over and over and not get bored of it. I could go on and this could turn into some cinematic nerd pseudo-homo-erotic rant about Carpenter, but it might just land me in hot water like it did earlier in the week, wherein I now have to spend a month in Norway writing a Thing related script for a friend of mine.

So I’m just going to keep my mouth shut.

‘Cigarette Burns’ was Carpenters first ‘Masters of Horror’ feature and oh your weird tentacled god, did it rock. Udo Kier, just everything, if I think about it, I start talking in tongues.

‘Pro-Life’ is about a girl from a fundamentalist Christian family trapped in an abortion clinic. She’s expecting…something. As this is a feature directed by John Carpenter featuring Ron Perlman, I already liked it so much I almost didn’t need to see it.

It has nods and whispers to many of Carpenter’s previous films, not least ‘The Thing’ and runs at a smooth, masterful pace. If John Carpenter had lost his form, this just ices off his return to it. Me? I think he was just being lazy for a few years. Think about it? The surfboard scene in ‘Escape from LA’? What the fuck were you thinking?

Although I didn’t like the ending, finding it somewhere between an episode of ‘Monsters’ or ‘Tales from the Dark Side’, I loved the rest of this feature. Now that I think of it though, I have one other beef with this, CGI, the headshot; there should have been proper splatter. Goddamnit John, that was just fucking lazy.

Three Stars – yes, that’s right, I’m docking you for the CGI.

Lamberto Bava was introducing ‘Demons’ next, so I stayed just long enough for that and the opening sequence before leaving. There was drinking afoot and as enticing as ‘Demons’ on the big screen was, boozing, the filthy sort, the type your mother warned ye about, well no she didn’t, but had she known about it, she probably would have warned you about it, will always win out.

I tried to take pictures of Bava introducing ‘Demons’ but I found out my camera had been cursed and everything seemed to look like those moments just before you pass out from too much Ketamine.

The motley collection was Magnus, Tuomas, Anders, Mike, Jay, Andrew Deane and myself. Pints were finished and more ordered while we decided where to go. Just where do you take a group of assorted distributors, journalists, directors and executive producers?

What do you write, when, after downing the contents of an Elephant’s adrenal gland, a crazed American has held your head close to a blowtorch and explained what off the record means?

I don’t know.

Have you seen From Beyond? Society?

If you took the two of them and smushed them together as if you were a sociopathic eleven-year-old convent girl making two dolls fuck.

Well…

It was like a slightly more drunk version of that.

What can I mention that was on the record?

What can I say that won’t finger me to INTERPOL?

Well…

I know Andrew Deane appreciates a fine whiskey.

I heard stories from other festivals that I can’t write about.

There was a really good one about Argento and the filming of ‘Jennifer’ and how they got the girl for that. But once again, I can’t tell you about that.

I had a nice long talk with Anders Banke and found him to be a complete gentleman and acutely intelligent.

Magnus is one of the happiest people I think I’ve ever met?

Really, we had a few drinks; caused a modicum of trouble, walked to the next bar, found it too busy and then decided to turn in.

Yep, that’s about the size of it.

Nothing more to see here…

Move along.