Daybreakers (2009)

What is it with vampires these days?

Daybreakers is the logical conclusion of our current pop obsession (popsession?) with vampires. Told from their viewpoint, they are the mainstream, the norm, the mundane. They are the bureaucratic drones and the police force. In other words, they are The Man.

The year is 2019, and it's been ten years since this film's release the outbreak of vampiritis. Since then, most people have turned into yellow-eyed undead with prominent canines. The blood of humans is quickly running out, and the few humans left are farmed in big Harkonnen-style warehouses owned by the Sam Neill Corporation of Exploitation. In other words, The Man.

Into this dystopian setting we thrust the usual bureaucratic minion, Edward Cullen Dalton (Ethan Hawke and his cheekbones). Edward is a sensitive, thoughtful pacifist/feminist/insert your sensitive, thoughtful cause here, and he's gone vegetarian. Unfortunately, not drinking human blood makes you turn into a ye olde vampire, the silent film kind, complete with no hair and horrible wings. Edward's brother, police force Frankie (Michael Dorman), severely disapproves of this counterculture tendencies. Edward himself feels pretty lost, until he bumps into the Requisite Female Emancipator, this time a human named (apparently) Audrey (Claudia Karvan), who introduces him to the man (did you read that, right? MAN. it's a MAN, people! the ladies get no love anywhere, it seems) who purports to have found the "cure" for vampiritis. By the way, this man is played by Willem Dafoe.

So there you have it! Is it worth the price of admission or the price of a DVD? Not really. It's a popcorn-churning, bloodgushing B-movie that delights in itself with some self-aware levity (did we mention vampires explode when a stake goes through their hearts? THEY EXPLODE.), though it never manages to break into truly eye-opening weirdness or truly coherent satire. What oppressed class are the humans supposed to be? We thought they were tuna or salmon for much of the film.

Ethan Hawke is a boring hero; imagine Keanu Reeves on a lot of Valium. Our beloved Sam Neill is his usual glorious self, though he does get involved in a very questionable sequence involving his human renegade daughter (Isabel Lucas), Policeman Frankie and a sort of Medieval "I sell you my daughter's virginity" prison rape. Was this eroticized vampirism and dodgy morals supposed to stick it to the Twilight people? Maybe.

Actually, the whole movie feels like an un-Twilight: a reaction to and play against the tired old vampire tropes that seem so pervasive in our fantasy genre these days. While it doesn't take itself as seriously as Twilight, and therefore is slightly less ridiculous, it still takes itself way too seriously: it is, after all, about a brooding vampire anti-hero stuck in the grind of a desaturated life. A little more sparkly color and slapstick might have been a better choice (or a little more feminism/postcolonialism; just sayin'). Overall, it's a C+: not as crafty and clever as other, better B-horrors (Shaun of the Dead, the almighty Slither), but not horrible either.

Event Horizon (1997)

Whereas if the film did any little bit of business in America, if the film did some decent bit of business, then Hollywood would take it, and they'd remake it, and they'd up the budget by 50 million and it'd be called, “The Room With A View of Hell!”
- Eddie Izzard

It's ironic, since Eddie was talking about American remakes of British films, and the cultish pulp monster Event Horizon is a British "of Hell!" to a Russian "Room With a View".


When you're gonna steal iconic images: steal from the best! Solaris.


Blade Runner.

Why did we ever like this silly, disgusting gross-fest that inadvertently lampoons far superior entries into the whole mystery and terror of space subgenre? We think much of it has to do with its high levels of Sam Neilliness - Sam Neill sweating into his bedsheets! Sam Neill floating in a classy spacesuit! Sam Neill losing his shirt! - or does it go the other way around? Do we worship at the altar of Sam Neill because of this terrible film? It was on television an awful lot back in the 90s.

In 2040, Earth launched its first deep space vessel, the Event Horizon, a ship that was supposed to achieve faster-than-light travel using nifty space-bending stuff (Sam Neill thought of that, Simon Pegg didn't!). Instead, it never got past Neptune, where it just went dead in the water, lilting lazily to the side. Now, seven years later, a team of scrappy, reluctant pseudo-military types, led by man o' the people Captain Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) and frosty intellectual Doctor Awkward (Sam Neill!), go for the rescue mission.


For long flights, such as those over the Pacific.


The best, most visually fun sequence in the film.

The rescuers do find the Event Horizon, and when they do, plasmic hell goo (literally) starts splashing everywhere, quickly followed by blood, guts and sanity. In an early scene, the laddish military types are resentful to brainy Sam Neill for dragging them into this mess - and their anti-intellectual sulking is later justified: yes, it really all was Sam Neill's fault.

Of course, in an early scene, likable tech officer Peters (a youthful Kathleen Quinlan) also likens a former crewmate to a "corpsicle" - and that pretty much sets the tone of this film. With utter seriousness, a sort of ultra-grim melody supplied by overachieving eyebrows, frosty irises and moody intonations, this film wallows in the most ludicrous scenarios. It seems to have no self-awareness at all; it doesn't realize how over-the-top it is. Instead, it goes for A-grade horror - something it only intermittently achieves, such as the glorious sequence in the green vent - when it should really be basking in B-grade silliness. On paper this is the stuff of Ghostbusters, but - alas - when choosing the form of their destructor, they went for eyeless dead wives instead of a giant marshmallow man.


What is the purpose of long spikes in the engine room? Just, you know, wondering.

So should it be watched? Only at your own peril! We kind of perversely enjoyed watching it in groups when it would be on TV, if only so we could crow at Sam Neill and then make big noises of shock when the bloody stuff begins. But it's not a particularly good film, so we can't really recommend it. It seems much more intent on pushing the boundaries of gore and dressing these up in some visual references to better films, instead of, you know, investing some more thought into the plot.

Slither (2006)

There's a great moment in Slither, the B-grade horror/comedy, when the hero, Officer Bill Pardy (Nathan Fillion), is being choked in his office by a rampaging zombie deer. It sounds very funny (and it is!), but it's also a nail-biting moment of suspense. Such is the genius of this film.

As we've noted before, we've recently been inundated with the horror genre here at the PPCC - from the drawling bore of Underworld: Rise of the Lycans to the camp classic that is Ghostbusters. Simon Pegg's endearing Shaun of the Dead was our favorite-so-far, but it's been ousted today by the far funnier, far grosser Slither. Whereas Shaun of the Dead relied much on the charm of Simon Pegg as our favorite nerd-with-a-heart-of-gold (and he is, yes, so cute!), Slither is much more concerned with being the most disgusting, most absurd and hilariously presented B-film we've seen in a long time. And it succeeds.


Very poor insulation.

Somewhere from the deepest, darkest reaches of outer space, a meteor crashes into a poor, forgotten, Confederate flag-waving town in the American South. This town doesn't have that false sense of mummified 1950s Americana as in Waitress, rather it resembles the poor white realities of trailers, chain fast food and trucker hats (so, more like The Wrestler). Anyway, the meteor. So Grant Grant (Michael Rooker) and his wife, Starla Grant (Elizabeth Banks), have a minor disagreement one evening - while the hunky policeman, Bill, looks on (he's been pining for Starla since forever). During Grant's walk in the woods to cool off and get some air, he discovers the meteor - and is promptly attacked by a small worm-like parasite that squirms out of the smoldering space ash and into his diaphragm before clamping onto his brainstem.

Now possessed by the alien slug, Grant begins to sprout slimy tentacles, weird rashes and an insatiable hunger for MEEEAT. MEEEEEEEAAAT. After kidnapping and sucking the life force out of a local girl, as well as being spotted by Bill and his police posse, he is dubbed the "squid" and tracked by the terrified, bumbling townspeople. Lots of really inventive gross stuff then happens.


Beautiful boy!


Like a demented episode of House.

Has anyone in the PPCC readership seen David Cronenberg's The Fly? There's an iconic scene in it when the twitching, crusty, fly-man anti-hero, played by Jeff Goldblum, vomits on his food before eating it. It's all part of fly digestion! he says, while his girlfriend (and the PPCC, and the whole audience) looks on in gaping horror. Well, if you found that scene disgusting, but sort of... hilarious, and you kinda wanted to watch it again just so you could laugh at it, then Slither is for you. DO NOT watch it with any beverages around (as you will spit them) nor any food (as you will probably throw it back up) - the film is a strong mixture of the nauseating coupled with the very funny.

In fact, we spent so much of the film laughing and swallowing back our lunch, that we didn't realize how insidiously scary it also is - indeed, it's a testament to the quality of the filmmaking, which juggles moods deftly. There's the scene where we first see the alien slugs in all their squirming, multitudinous horror - the characters are screaming, the violins are shrieking, and something touched our thigh. PPCC readership, we tell you now that we jumped so high we nearly slammed against the ceiling. So, yes, it is also a fairly scary film.

But it is also a lot of fun, if watched responsibly. Where by "responsibly", we mean: with company, in full sunlight, without any food or beverages or children around. Enjoy!

Underworld: Rise of the Lycans (2009)

The planets have aligned in such a way these days that the PPCC finds itself watching movie after movie featuring classical horror themes. Zombies, ghosts (and their busters), and now, vampires and werewolves seem to be our lot, and we're not entirely averse, maybe because we never really paid much attention to these strange creatures and their comical ways.

Underworld: Rise of the Lycans fell in our To Watch list because it features Michael Sheen, who impressed us so much with his performance in The Damned United that we became ravenous for more. We were furthermore encouraged because Bill Nighy, the lovely and wonderful, also featured. Unfortunately, it wasn't really worth it. We were so bored by the end of this mindless, endless, 90-minute junk food that we felt not unlike vampire Viktor (Bill Nighy) when he meets sunlight: fizzling away into a blackened crust of our former selves.

Set in an unplaceable Gothic wonderland filmed in various shades of blue, Underworld: Rise of the Lycans tells the story of the nobly laboring Lycans (werewolves) and their evil vampire overlords. While the bastardly vampires, led by Viktor, are all icy irises and hissing lisps, the werewolves toil with oily hair and oily muscles. And everyone is in black leather. The Lycan Spartacus, Lucian (Michael Sheen), is the only character afforded any warm colors as his muscly torso glistens in various firelights while he plots the slave uprising.


Our hero! Hairy, the Nobly Naked.


Our distressed damsel! Lady Poutsalot.


Our dastardly villain! Bill Nighy, the Vampire Guy.

Yes, it's all vaguely eroticized in an S&M way, and indeed the studly Lucian is carrying on an illicit affair with Viktor's daughter, the sword-wielding, perma-pouting Sonja (Rhona Mitra). Their love, which already kinda disgusted us to begin with, is furthermore grossified by the vampire elite comparing it to the unholy love child (no pun intended) of bestiality and incest. (There's some hazy stuff about a shared heritage between the two groups, except that the werewolf side of the family, well, look like dogs.)

After interminable fight scenes, numerous escapes and re-captures, and Lucian getting (sexily?) whipped or Lucian (sexily?) transforming back into human form only to find all his clothes are missing (!), this film finally grinds to a halt. We couldn't have been happier.

Performance-wise, Michael Sheen flexes his muscles - especially the ones in his neck - and delivers some vague sparks of life. He submits a few meltdowns, which the PPCC always accepts with pleasure, but otherwise he is saddled with a cardboard hero role in a cardboard movie. Rhona Mitra likewise pouts and sulks and sometimes, refreshingly, lops people's heads off, but even this token feminism doesn't redeem an otherwise typical damsel-in-distress. Around her, characters start saying things like "My lady!" and "My love!", and she even ends up under house arrest. Only her hairy, snarling knight can save her! Bill Nighy, who is making a (great!) career out of playing slightly off-center, slightly sniffily posh old lords is his usual demented self. We amused ourselves with imagining his performance as Viktor to be a natural extension of his performance in Love, Actually.


Two-flavored meltdown: the human flavor.


And the beastly flavor.

Theme-wise, with all the bizarre sexualization that vampires must endure (and werewolves?! only one werewolf is allowed to be attractive, and that is Remus Lupin!), we wondered a bit about this film's relationship to the highly popular and highly Victorian Twilight series, with all its virginal angst. Unfortunately, we soon lost interest in that comparison, as we lost interest in this film entirely. Goodness, at least Twilight has a kickin' soundtrack! Maybe a bonus track by Thom Yorke would have woken us up, as clearly even Michael Sheen screaming enough to pop a blood vessel only barely roused us from nodding off.

Well, we can't fix the film, but we can make sure this review isn't boring anymore. Enjoy!

Shaun of the Dead (2004)

Poor, sweet Simon Pegg!

He may hide himself behind the scatological humor and bloody spectacles of ace cops and, now, zombie killers, but he is just a big softie beneath all that. Bromance and mum, video games and Star Wars, he is like the comfort food of nerd chic. And, with his Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy, he is also probably the premier horror comedy auteur at the moment. Bruce Campbell and his huge chin have been ousted!

In Shaun of the Dead, the usual zombie siege takes place - but within the realms of middle class British normality. Inept, bumbling and frightened, dead-end (no pun intended) man-child Shaun (Simon Pegg), together with his ex, Liz (Kate Ashfield), best mate, Ed (best mate Nick Frost), beloved Mum (Penelope Wilton), and entourage in tow, must bash his way through the mindless, shuffling hordes of flesh-eating undead. When Shaun's stepdad, Philip (Bill Nighy!), is bitten, the film spares time for a genuine moment of tragedy: "Being a father," Philip says, clutching at the ravaged tendons of his neck. "It's not easy..." It also has time for buckets and buckets of gore, liberal splashes of blood, and intestines everywhere.


Always time for bromance and Cornettos for these two!


Our beloved Bill Nighy already looks pretty undead to start with.

Despite all that messy carnage, the film is actually quite tidy. Details established early are periodically tied up, interesting ideas (such that modern life, consumerism and TV have made the living dead out of us all anyway) are thrown out there but not pursued too much, and the script - especially when Shaun and Ed channel surf - is snappy and fresh. There are no huge surprises, though there are some unfortunate (even horrific, though such is the nature of these things) occurrences.


You mindless consumers!

What's more impressive than the glistening organs lying strewn about the increasingly chaotic English suburban streets is the real, sticky heart beneath the Romero-esque razzle dazzle. This is Pegg's baby (he wrote and stars) and he gives it his all: his swings from self-conscious irony (killing his first zombie) to weeping despair (the death of his stepdad) to tears-drying-open-mouthed horror (the resurrection of his stepdad) feel genuine. We gagged and laughed for most of the film but - in some of the later moments, when even the pub sanctuary is besieged and all feels lost - we cried some real, authentic tears of our own. Oh, woe! And we had to remind ourselves that, at least out there at the final frontier, there is a Simon Pegg that is happy and hasn't got any red on him.