Editorials
Looking Back at the Corporate Horror of Christopher Smith’s ‘Severance’ 20 Years Later
A few years back, I remember being surprised by the number of people discussing the corporate horror of Severance on social media. For a while there, I honestly thought that folks were somehow rediscovering Christopher Smith’s 2006 horror comedy that I’d been recommending to friends for so long. Naturally, I was quite disappointed when I found out that what internet users were actually talking about was Ben Stiller’s “Severance“ TV show.
However, with Aaron Fisher’s Corporate Retreat releasing in theaters this Friday and exposing audiences to brand new forms of workplace terror – and with Smith’s film celebrating its 20th anniversary this year – I believe that this is the perfect moment to finally look back on the original Severance and explore exactly why it’s such an underrated piece of corporate satire.
With that in mind, I’d advise readers to strap in, as this is going to be one hell of a team-building exercise!
Crafting a Corporate Retreat Nightmare
Christopher Smith had already established himself as a celebrated genre director by the time he became attached to Severance, with the success of his 2004 slasher Creep (another one of his films that was later overshadowed by a different movie with the same name) allowing the filmmaker and his team to secure more funds for a sophomore production. This next project would end up being a satirical horror comedy co-written by Smith and fellow British screenwriter James Moran.
Moran, who some of you may know from his work on Doctor Who and The Borderlands/Final Prayer, documented much of the writing process on his personal blog back in the day. He would often comment on the real-world frustrations that inspired the story and even provided fans with a peek behind the curtain by explaining some of the changes that Smith had to make to the script in order to make it more practical to shoot.
Filming took place in both Hungary and the Isle of Man after an intensive casting process where the filmmakers spent four months trying to find actors who could convincingly make these characters entertaining even in an awful situation. Funnily enough, the actors wound up experiencing the shoot as something of a real-world team-building exercise since they were filming in remote locations with little outside company – at least of the English-speaking variety. Smith was also impressed with the Hungarian stunt team and their tendency to put themselves at risk in order to guarantee a better shot, something that you can see in the film during a thrilling bus crash that was originally scripted to be much less dramatic.
Severance Skewers Corporate Evil with a Unique Sense of Humor
In the finished film, which was released in August of 2006, we follow an ensemble of office workers employed by Palisade Defence as they travel to Hungary for a weekend of team-building exercises at a luxury lodge. Unfortunately for the disgruntled sales team and their bumbling boss (played to irritating perfection by Tim McInnerny), an ill-advised detour leads them to a different and much creepier lodge located in an area said to be stalked by homicidal holdovers from the Soviet Union. As the weekend goes on, the workers soon realize that they really have to learn how to work together if they’re going to survive this business trip from hell.
While this sounds like a great premise for a crowd-pleasing horror comedy, the creativity behind Severance didn’t necessarily translate to box office success. The film garnered something of a cult following over the years, but its peculiar setup (which can be best described as Wrong Turn meets The Office) was a bit too strange for mainstream audiences – especially overseas, where filmgoers expected something more akin to the playful direction of Edgar Wright’s Shaun of the Dead.
However, now that we’re two decades removed from the expectations surrounding British genre films during the mid-2000s, it’s a lot easier to enjoy Smith’s underrated comedy on its own merits. Sure, the overall effectiveness of the flick’s understated sense of humor depends on your tolerance for an unapologetically British kind of comedic timing, but I personally had a blast with all the throwaway conversations that secretly set up ironic deaths and easy-to-miss punchlines. I also appreciate how the movie never loses sight of its initial objective of poking fun at workplace stereotypes and the banality of corporate evil, an idea that’s especially poignant when you remember that these characters work for a weapons company.
Of course, the most impressive element here is just how memorable the ensemble is despite (or perhaps because of) their quirky personalities. You genuinely feel bad for even the worst of them once the horror starts to set in, and while this is partially due to excellent performances by actors like Andy Nyman as the toxically positive Gordon or even Laura Harris as the sensitive designer of “humane mines”, a lot of it comes back to the writing. Moran and Smith know exactly how to develop the group in such a way that you’re aware of their shortcomings (like Danny Dyer’s unreliable slacker persona) while still caring about their workplace crushes and personal feuds.
This attention to detail only makes the horror of the flick stand out more as the team waltzes right into the Eastern European equivalent of The Hills Have Eyes. I especially enjoy the meta-aspect of the genre presentation as our characters recount different versions of the legends surrounding the area (with the Nosferatu-inspired silent film era gag standing out as a highlight of the experience). That being said, I agree with critics who point out how the sadistic Soviet villains feel like they came from a completely different film.
Take it Up with HR If You Don’t Like Gory Kills and Dry Humor
After all, Smith appears to treat the antagonists’ murderous rampage completely seriously, with nearly all of the humor being reserved for our main characters. Despite several jokes about preserving severed legs and watching an annoying boss get his explosive comeuppance, Severance never depicts the villains’ actions as anything less than monstrous. Not only that, but even the most annoying side characters are still treated like vulnerable human beings when the time comes to finally execute them in proper horror movie fashion, a decision that makes these moments more genuinely off-putting rather than “fun”.
I think these frequent and jarring shifts in the story are responsible for the film’s divisive reputation, as I can understand why some audiences would see this as a narrative flaw rather than an intentional choice by the filmmakers. Personally, however, I love how the movie refuses to dilute either its humor or its scares in order to cater to any particular audience. While it makes sense that not everyone can handle this absurd level of tonal whiplash, I think being able to watch coworkers bicker in one scene only to have them being cruelly set on fire in the next is precisely what makes Smith’s film so unique in the first place.
Severance may be something of an acquired taste, with its extremely dry brand of British humor and unflinchingly brutal death scenes making for an unusual combination, but I’d argue that the flick has aged incredibly well. That’s why I’d still recommend this corporate holiday from hell to genre fans who don’t mind it when their horror comedies get a little bit mean-spirited.
Of course, if that bothers you, you can always take it up with HR!
Described as “a gory mix of The Menu and Saw,” Corporate Retreat centers around a group of young executives whose luxury team-building trip descends into a bloody fight for survival against a vengeful retreat leader.
Corporate Retreat releases in theaters this Friday; get tickets now.
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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