Interviews
‘Beast of War’ Shark Practical Effects Made Cast and Crew Scared to Get in the Water [Interview]
World War II shark thriller Beast of War draws inspiration from the historical account that Quint tells in Steven Spielberg’s Jaws. That it releases in the same year that Spielberg’s seminal shark classic turns 50 feels like uncanny levels of planning ahead.
“It’s just a beautiful, ironic coincidence, isn’t it?” Australian writer/director Kiah Roache-Turner (Sting, Wyrmwood: Apocalypse) grins at the serendipitous alignment in a chat with Bloody Disgusting ahead of the film’s release on October 10 in theaters and VOD.
Instead, the inception behind Beast of War was far simpler. “No, it’s funny, a couple of years ago, my producer, Blake Northfield, rang me and he goes, ‘Have you kind of got anything written about something on water?’ And I’m like, ‘Water? No man.’ He goes, ‘Well, I’ve got access to a giant water tank. Can you write something on water?’ I say, ‘Yeah, that sounds like a shark movie.’ He replies, ‘Shark movie, great, I’ll call you in a month.’ And that’s just how it started.”
That doesn’t mean that Jaws didn’t factor into Beast of War at all, though. Far from it; Quint’s unforgettable monologue did serve as foundational inspiration for Roache-Turner’s first foray into aquatic horror-thrillers.
[L-R] Mark Coles Smith as “Leo” and Joel Nankervis as “Will” in the thriller film BEAST OF WAR
. Photo courtesy of Well Go USA Entertainment
Also, like Jaws is Beast of War‘s commitment to practical effects; the shark work by Formation Effects is incredible.
“Every year there’s like ten shark movies that come out and every time I’m just looking at them going, it doesn’t look real,” Roache-Turner says. “It looks digital. My biggest problem, well, there are two big problems: the sharks move too fast, and the water displacement doesn’t look real; it just looks like a really well-rendered video game.
‘Beast of War’
“To me, that’s not scary. The scary thing is that top shot in Jaws, where you see the shark coming to grab the guy’s leg, then he is trying to get back up on the boat, and it’s ripped off the boat. It’s real. You can see the weight of it in the water. We knew we had to build a shark, and that was a huge deal from a production point of view. We had a company called Formation Effects, led by Steve Boyle, and that’s kind of like the Australian version of Wētā, a smaller company, but no less talented. They built three giant sections of shark, like a huge puppet shark that you put a stunt diver in, and he just operates it. That was very easy to use. I love that one.
“Then we built a giant half-submarine with a fin on the back that swam around in the tank. You need that because usually in movies they’ll just put the fin on a diver, and there are no big waves on either side of the fin to show that there’s a one-ton creature underneath the fin. It’s actually not the fin that’s scary; it’s how much water is displaced when it moves through the water, because you’re like, ‘Oh my god, that fin is big.’ But under that fin is something as big as a bus. That was important. And then we built a thing called an attack head, which is a giant half-ton animatronic shark that runs on rails under the water, and that explodes up out of the surface to munch on the actors. It was like we had pieces of shark everywhere, and it was very difficult to make and hard to shoot. But man, it worked.
“Once we got that thing in the water, it was terrifying. Nobody wanted to get in the tank. There’s something psychological about seeing that stuff in the tank; they’re like, ‘I’m not getting in that water.’ It was good fun.”
As for the shark’s design, Roache-Turner was less interested in realism. He tells us, “Well, I am not really a massive realism guy. I like the heightened hyper-stylized reality, and I grew up reading comic books and stuff, so my conversations with Steve, who made the shark, were just give me a monster shark. I want it to look like a bulldog that’s been in too many fights. You know what I mean? That’s just scarred up and one of its eyes ripped out, and pale because it’s blind in one eye, and it looks like it’s just had a few fights with a few propeller blades. People kept joking, ‘Oh, it’s zombie shark,’ but I wanted that.“
While the filmmaker’s heightened reality sensibilities also reflect in the cinematography, in which Roache-Turner instructed to “do Nosferatu with a fin” with a richly saturated color palette, the fog bank that traps the soldiers in place is less of an aesthetic choice and more of a requirement once Spielberg threw a wrench in production plans, further entangling Jaws with Beast of War.
“We had originally decided to make this quite a gritty, realistic-looking film. We were going to shoot the thing in the giant tank in Malta, where they shot Gladiator. We actually started pre-production in Malta, so we were going to go for that look and that type of film. Then Spielberg came in and just grabbed all the tanks because he was producing Jurassic World. So ironically, my idea I stole from Spielberg, and Spielberg came in and took my tank. I mean, it’s beautifully ironic. We had to then make the decision to go back to Queensland and shoot it in a huge tank indoors, and I was like, the only way to get away with that is to just lean into the fog.”
See the stunning shark effects this Friday when Well Go USA unleashes Beast of War in theaters and on VOD.
Of all the places to find a coven of witches, the attic above a Christian youth camp is probably the last place you’d think to look. But that’s just what we find in Camp, a surrealist nightmare of feminist empowerment from Canadian filmmaker Avalon Fast.
Emily (Zola Grimmer) is still reckoning with her involvement in a horrific tragedy when she accidentally contributes to the death of her best friend, Charlie (Giselle Morison). Unable to move on, the traumatized teen takes a job at a rural summer camp, hoping to forget her own sorrows by looking after at-risk kids. She quickly connects with a counselor named Clara (Alice Wordsworth) and finds comfort in her close-knit group of female friends. But a mysterious whisper from deep in the woods warns that they may be leading her down a darker path.
Fast burst onto the scene in 2022 with Honeycomb, a psychological horror film that follows a burgeoning matriarchy. Known for their focus on “Girl Horror” stories, the talented young filmmaker tackles similar themes in Camp as Emily leaves the modern world behind to embrace a dark vision of self-discovery through magic.
Ahead of the film’s U.S. release on June 26, Bloody Disgusting sat down with Fast to chat about the nebulous nature of good vs. evil and the intoxicating power of female-driven horror.
Bloody Disgusting: What inspired this unique story? Did you go to religious summer camps when you were young?
Avalon Fast: I did. I went to lots of different summer camps, but all of them were primarily Bible camps. The memory I have of camp is kind of strange. I was very homesick as a kid, and I didn’t necessarily enjoy all my time there. I definitely remember meeting some interesting girls at camp and having that presence of religion hovering around the whole experience.
BD: I really love the film’s gorgeous natural setting. Camp is the kind of surrealist nightmare that you don’t just watch. You feel it too. How did you approach creating this world?
AF: Well, a huge part of it was working with my cinematographer Eily Sprungman, who’s a very close friend. We spent years prepping, shot listing, storyboarding, and mood boarding. She’d had a similar experience to mine. We grew up around the same place, and so we understood each other’s visions from the get-go. But there are so many other pieces that came together. The costuming, the art, and the animated sequences were done by Sofiya Iurkevych. One of our producers, Taylor Nodrick, was obsessed with shooting on Super 8 film. I’ve always wanted to as well, so all the memory sequences were shot on Super 8. It was just a lot of people with an understanding and a vision for what this project was. I’m really happy with the way it turned out.
To the extent that you’re comfortable sharing, what’s your relationship to witchcraft, and what does Camp have to say about modern witches?
Well, that’s the question of Camp. It’s not that I don’t resonate with any of these things, but I specifically wanted Camp to be a little bit ambiguous around what witchcraft looks like. Is this witchcraft? Are these girls witches? Emily explicitly asks if that’s what’s happening here, and the answer isn’t yes. The film isn’t going to answer that question for you. My relationship to magic and witchcraft? It’s tough. I feel like there’s so much magic, connection, and spirituality that comes from these friendships, the closeness of these women, and what’s happening around them. A lot of what Camp is trying to say or show is just that magic can come out of friendship.
I loved watching these female friendships develop. And you’re right. No one ever says the word “coven,” but you can feel that connection, and you can see a change in Emily as those relationships grow. I’m also really fascinated with the way Camp plays with the idea of good and evil. At one point, Clara says, “Maybe God drew us to the devil,” which stopped me in my tracks. How do you view witchcraft or the magic these girls are experiencing in regard to good and evil?
That was such a huge part of the script’s construction. The story is really trying to keep a balance between those two things. I like asking people if they think these girls are good or bad, because I feel like a lot of people come out of the film thinking one or the other. They’ll say things like “thank God Emily found her people” or “God, I really wish she’d gone home.” I just don’t think there’s ever an answer. I wanted to explore the idea of going down the wrong path, especially coming out of grief. What makes you a bad person, and does healing mean you’re looking to become a better person? I don’t have an answer, but I do feel like that’s a huge part of what Camp is asking. What is good? What is bad? Why did God bring me to the devil?
Yes, because this is all happening at “God camp” in Emily’s words. So how can both of those things exist at the same time? Along those lines, I’m also fascinated by the voice Emily hears in the woods. Without spoiling too much, what is this voice asking, and what is required in return?
Emily comes to camp with a shout into the void, asking can anyone hear me? Does anyone want to? And it’s answered so clearly by these girls, specifically responding only with love, care, support, and trust. It’s like her prayers were answered. It doesn’t mean that everything is going to be alright, but Emily is looking for peace. She’s looking for a moment where she feels pure good. And I think, even at its surface level, she does get that experience.
Personally, I don’t really think people are good or bad. I think we all exist somewhere in the middle. Camp centers traditionally villainized characters, but that’s where Emily seems to find her peace, however you choose to define it.
I also wanted to show the experience of having decided that you are a bad person, you’ve made mistakes, and you feel cursed. Then when you meet other people who have done things that you would consider worse, you can actually feel good in their presence. You feel like less of a bad person. I think that’s a huge part of the story as well. Emily’s finding her version of other fucked up people, and she feels less fucked up around them. I’ve found that in my own life. It’s a cool thing. I don’t think it’s bad.
I don’t think it’s bad either. It’s finding your home, your people. We meet Emily in the aftermath of unthinkable trauma. Is this a story about mental health and healing?
Witnessing it myself. witnessing other people experience tragedy and then move through grief, you hear a lot of talk about healing or coming out the other side. There’s so much conversation around what that looks like, with self-care and showing up for yourself. I always felt really averse to it. It annoyed me. I think the beginning of the film speaks to that. The therapeutic version of what getting help looks like is obviously very different from what Camp is showing. And again, I don’t have an answer for what you’re supposed to do. But I think that’s another question I was asking: how do you heal? Do you heal at all? Is that the end goal, or are we just trying to get better? It’s something I experienced in my own grief. And the answer, for me, at least now, is just that I’m not looking to get better. So I felt like I hadn’t. I found it hard to find people to have those conversations with. And I think that’s what I ultimately wanted to make a film about.
I love that unanswered question. In my own experience, I’ve had to reframe what healing actually looks like. There’s not really an endpoint. It’s just finding a way to keep going. There’s also an element of sacrifice in this story, particularly regarding another counselor named Jo (Sophie Bawks-Smith). What role does she play in Emily’s journey?
For me, Jo is this human embodiment of Charlie, Emily’s friend. As Jo, she had a life at this camp before meeting Emily, and then was kind of taken over by Charlie’s spirit. I think a lot of people view Emily’s final choice as horrendous and tragic. In a way it is, but for me, if Jo becomes her angel, it’s almost like a self-sacrifice. Jo knows that by sacrificing herself, she’ll be giving Emily power to move forward. In the original script, the girls were supposed to bring out another counselor, JB (Aidan Laudersmith), and burn his body. But I just thought, there’s no way sacrificing this guy could give the girls enough power. There’s just no way, right? Logically, that just didn’t line up for me.
I’m glad you mentioned JB, because he has his own tragic arc. How do men factor into the world of Camp?
The way men factor into my world is so bizarre. I have such little respect for them in my films, which is something I’ve been called on. I think I have to challenge myself in the future to make a movie about a boy because, these boys … It’s not that the men in my films aren’t redeemable, but there’s no depth to these characters. They’re just treated with such disrespect. I don’t know why I do that, actually. That’s something for me to look into. It was the same with Honeycomb. They’re just such peripheral characters. I’ve had people ask about Kayne (Henri Gillespi), the scary guy at the fire, what happens to him? I just think, I don’t know. I don’t care. That’s not the point of the story.
Well, I can say after a lifetime of watching women on the periphery of the story, the course correction feels nice. In a similar vein, I’m in love with your homepage, avalonfast.com. There’s an image of girls on a film set and then a still from Honeycomb in which a blood-covered girl is screaming at the sky. And in the middle, it just says Girl Horror. It’s a really powerful statement that gives me chills. How do you define Girl Horror, and what draws you to these types of stories?
I was obsessed with the term when I started making my movies. It was something I’d come up with to kind of brand myself and describe what I was doing. Then I went through a period where I felt like it was a bit gender exclusive and didn’t interest me as much. But now I’ve come full circle on the term. I think it’s a bit of a commentary on youth and the horror of growing up female. But I think everybody can relate to that experience. I don’t want it to feel like this exclusive thing, that I make movies exclusively for girls, because I don’t think I do. I’m interested in exploring what Girl Horror means. Originally, it was just a title, something I came up with, and now it’s become something that resonates with people. You said it gave you chills. That’s cool for me to hear because there’s obviously some depth there.
Are you working on anything new?
Yes. I am actually making a movie about a boy. That’s the next thing.
That’s exciting! The more I think about feminism, the more I end up coming back to men and boys, because they have a place in the world of Girl Horror too.
Absolutely. It’s all just part of being human.
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