Film4 FrightFest 2010 Review - Friday
A tribute to Tobe Hooper, Aussie maternal nightmare The Clinic and hoodie horror F kick off my first day.
Having experienced FrightFest for the first time, I can safely say that heaven is sitting in the Empire watching other people's hell.
Without a full pass, I was selective in my requests for the 11th annual Film4 FrightFest, and having only experienced half of the delights on display am still a quivering wreck two days later. For horror is the only genre that can continue to shock and surprise, even if some of the best examples this weekend don't strictly fall under that category (Red, White & Blue and Monsters).
Jumping into day two, the Friday, the plush Empire in Leicester Square was hosting a rare screening of Tobe Hooper's debut movie as part of a day of tributes. Eggshells is a trippy sci-fi very, very much of its time (1969). Young people in a house-turned-commune are living above a "crypto-embryonic hyper-electric presence" in the basement. Moody and atmospheric, if messy and infuriating, its only value is seeing Hooper's unique style emerging, which would be apparent in his seminal Texas Chainsaw Massacre five years later.
After a screening of that horror classic, Hooper made his first appearance in the UK in an incredible 18 years. Quiet and thoughtful, he dropped a couple of great anecdotes, and shot down some of Leatherface himself, Gunner Hansen's tall tales from the production. Hosted by Total Film as part of their new Total Icon series (with a view to bringing over the likes of David Cronenberg in the future), you could not accuse the host of being sycophantic, with Hooper's years of failure repeatedly brought up. One important thing to note was Hooper explaining how the whole rumour about Poltergeist producer Steven Spielberg being in charge of directing came about. I'll be bringing you a full article on his talk shortly.
As I've seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre a lot recently, I decided to check out the Discovery Screen. The Clinic is a sharply-shot debut from Australian James Rabbitts, which unfortunately descends into b-movie ridiculousness solely because of the absurd character development. Andy Whitfield and Tabrett Bethell are the gorgeous young couple expecting a baby any day, who stop in a dodgy motel while travelling cross country. The film is quick to let you know it's 1979, and several years before the advent of DNA testing. This is not an excuse for the erratic behaviour of the group of women who wake up in a disused abattoir with their babies crudely cut out of them to be involved in the dumbest plot I've seen in a while. Despite this, The Clinic is actually enjoyable, once you've turned your brain off. Rabbitts might want to consult a doctor next time.
The best film of the day for me was Johannes Roberts' F. There were two British hoodie horror flicks this weekend, and this is the clear winner. The excellent David Schofield steps into a much-deserved high-profile starring role as an alcoholic teacher, still shaken up from a previous attack by a pupil. In the twilight detention hours comes a faceless gang, intent on death and destruction. Unique and compelling, Roberts doesn't use a single cliche, eschewing twists and easy answers for a character-led drama that happens to have some spectacularly horrific moments. Finlay Robertson steals the show, and all the laughs, as the school's security guard. The entire cast and Roberts came onstage to answer questions and explain the chilling potrayal of the literally faceless and almost demonic track-suited killers.
I will now express my regret at not sticking around for Red Hill, which has got rave reviews. True Blood's Ryan Kwanten should've been enough to convince me for the modern western, but no. I am an idiot. It's worth mentioning that throughout the festival Adam & Joe (that's US directors Green and Lynch, not our comedy pair) were back to provide their short films as the Douche Brothers, riffing on Blair Witch. The crowd love it - I'm not that convinced. Masturbation jokes get tired after about two minutes. And then it was off for the scariest part of FrightFest - the walk home.
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