Movies
Evidence
There’s a good idea or two at play in Evidence but the level of imagination McCoy and Haskin hopes their audience will have in order to lose themselves in some very unconvincing and poorly orchestrated high-stakes sequences ceased to exist around the time people stopped buying into McCarthyism. If anything, Evidence makes you appreciate the “less is more” approach of found-footage brethren The Blair Witch Project and Paranormal Activity better; at least they don’t have end credits that would throw Gaspar Noe into an epileptic fit.
Some spoilers below
One of the biggest pet peeves I have with low-budget films of any genre is when the creative team doesn’t understand how to work within their budget. I’m not one to stifle creativity, but sometimes it behooves a crew to know when to scale back on elaborate and expansive ideas and scenes. It’s true that a lack of funds can cause ingenuity that might shape the genre and define the ability of a filmmaker but for every Evil Dead, there’s a dozen films like Evidence that attempt to create a high concept idea (in this case, a twist that, in all honesty, is actually kind of neat) on a dime that comes off as cheap and silly instead of inventive.
Granted, the found-footage genre is known for its shoestring budgets and in the beginning, director Howie Askins embraces that; sadly, this is only while he’s doing fairly unremarkable things. Screenwriter Ryan McCoy stars as Ryan, a self-absorbed film student hell bent on shooting a documentary about his friend Brett (Brett Rosenberg) on their first camping trip. Dragging along a few female friends (Abigail Richie and Ashley Bracken), the group ventures out of L.A. and into the mountains where strange noises and shaking bushes are at every turn. Ryan is blamed for the odd occurrences at first – staging the outing for the sake of his artistry – but an unidentifiable creature in the distance and a run-in with a weapon-toting mountain man is enough to put the group into a state of paranoia as they start to strongly contemplate getting the hell out of Dodge.
The kids are of the generic variety, being comprised of a pompous director, a jock, and two girls who could practically be the same character if it were not for one of them being ever so slightly more outward about their sexuality. McCoy plays his character with the proper amount of narcissism and Rosenberg provides the level-headed reasoning and bravado, but the actresses are given almost nothing to work with and give bland performances in return. It’s a real shame, because the male leads exit the film halfway through and we’re left with two hollow characters that do nothing but scream for forty-five minutes.
The reveal, which involves military involvement and creatures, would be nifty enough to warrant a viewing if it weren’t for director Howie Askins’ decision to show way too much. Schlocky Roger Corman flicks could get away with men in deformed gorilla masks and furry costumes, but that was then and Evidence is happening in the here and now when we should know better. The military conspiracy that comes into play midway through the film is welcome after a generic – but fairly well orchestrated – setup but as the scale becomes larger and the twists and turns become more elaborate, the cheapness becomes as distracting as the ill-used costumes. Locations appear a bit too familiar, costumes (And presumably actors) are used over and over again to make it look like there are more people in the scene than there really are and black trash bags double as hazmat tarp.
There’s a good idea or two at play in Evidence but the level of imagination McCoy and Haskin hopes their audience will have in order to lose themselves in some very unconvincing and poorly orchestrated high-stakes sequences ceased to exist around the time people stopped buying into McCarthyism. If anything, Evidence makes you appreciate the “less is more” approach of found-footage brethren The Blair Witch Project and Paranormal Activity better; at least they don’t have end credits that would throw Gaspar Noe into an epileptic fit.
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At the Abigail premiere, Dan Stevens listed Norway among his four favorite vampire movies. “I just saw a great movie recently that I’d never heard of,” he told Letterboxd. “A Greek film called Norway, about a vampire who basically exists in the underground disco scene in ’80s Athens, and he can’t stop dancing ’cause he’s worried his heart will stop. And it’s lovely. It’s great.”
You won’t find a better endorsement than that, but allow me to elaborate. Imagine Only Lovers Left Alive meets What We Do in the Shadows by way of Yorgos Lanthimos. The quirky 2014 effort follows a vampire vagabond (Vangelis Mourikis) navigating Greek’s sordid nightlife circa 1984 as he dances to stay alive. Not as campy as it sounds, its idiosyncrasies land more in the art-house realm. Stylized visuals, colorful bloodshed, pulsating dance music, and an absurd third-act reveal help the existentialism go down in a mere 74 minutes.
With the recent solar eclipse renewing public interest in the astrological event, Bloody Birthday is ripe for rediscovery. Three children born during an eclipse – Curtis Taylor (Billy Jayne, Parker Lewis Can’t Lose), Debbie Brody (Elizabeth Hoy), and Steven Seton (Andrew Freeman) – begin committing murders on their 10th birthday. Brother and sister duo Joyce (Lori Lethin, Return to Horror High) and Timmy Russell (K.C. Martel, The Amityville Horror) are the only ones privy to their heinous acts.
Bloody Birthday opened in 1981 mere weeks before the release of another attempt to claim the birthday slot on the slasher calendar, Happy Birthday to Me. Director Ed Hunt (The Brain) combines creepy kid tropes that date back to The Bad Seed with slasher conventions recently established by Halloween and Friday the 13th – with a little bit of the former’s suspense and plenty of the latter’s gratuity. The unconventional set up helps it to stand out among a subgenre plagued by banality.
Starting in the late ’70s and throughout the ’80s, Italy built an enterprise out of shameless rip-offs of hit American movies. While not a blatant mockbuster like Cruel Jaws or Beyond the Door, 1989’s Alien from the Abyss (also known as Alien from the Deep) was inspired by – as you may have guessed from its title – Alien, Aliens, and The Abyss.
After a pair of Greenpeace activists attempt to expose an evil corporation that’s dumping contaminated waste into an active volcano, the environment takes a backseat to survival when an extraterrestrial monster attacks. Character actor Charles Napier (The Silence of the Lambs) co-stars as a callous colonel overseeing the illicit activities.
Director Antonio Margheriti (Yor: The Hunter from the Future, Cannibal Apocalypse) and writer Tito Carpi (Tentacles, Last Cannibal World) take far too long to get to the alien, but once it shows up, it’s non-stop excitement. The creature is largely represented by a Gigeresque pincer claw that reaches into the frame, giving the picture a ’50s creature feature charm, but nothing can prepare you for its full reveal in the finale.
Set against the backdrop of displaced Syrian and Palestinian refugees, What Is Buried Must Remain is a timely found footage hybrid from Lebanon. It centers on a trio of young filmmakers as they make a documentary in a decrepit mansion alleged to be haunted on the outskirts of a refugee camp. Inside, they find the spirits of those who died there, both benevolent and malicious.
It plays like Blair Witch meets The Shining through a cultural lens not often seen in the genre. The first half is presented as found footage (with above-average cinematography) before abruptly weaving in more traditional film coverage. While the tropes are familiar, the film possesses a unique ethos by addressing the Middle East’s plights of the past and the present alike.
Cathy’s Curse is, to borrow a phrase from its titular creepy kid, an “extra rare piece of shit.” The Exorcist, The Omen, and Carrie spawned countless low-budget knock-offs, but none are as uniquely inept as this 1977 Canuxploitation outing. Falling squarely in the so-bad-it’s-good camp, it’s far more entertaining than The Exorcist: Believer.
To try to make sense of the plot would be futile, but in a nutshell, a young girl named Candy (Randi Allen, in her only acting role) becomes possessed by the vengeful, foul-mouthed spirit of her aunt, destroying the lives of anyone who crosses her path. What ensues is a madcap mélange of possession, telekinesis, teleportation, animal attacks, abandoned plot points, and unhinged filmmaking that must be seen to be believed.
Visit the SCREAMBOX Hidden Gems archives for more recommendations.
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