Don't Breathe (2016) Review

Three young, small time criminals spend most of their time breaking into various homes, stealing only what is requested of their superiors or employers. Despite seemingly enjoying what they do on a regular basis, at least two are growing frustrated with this profession, longing to leave this life behind and begin anew. When one receives a tip about a residence that supposedly contains upwards of $300,000 in cash stashed inside of a basement, the group agree to one last heist. While on stakeout, they discover that not only is this abode inhabited by one, older man, but that the homeowner is blind. Later that evening, as the break-in is commencing, the solitary resident is revealed to be nowhere near as defenseless as he may appear to others, and that this dilapidated dwelling houses some very sinister secrets.

"I'm sorry, but North America just doesn't produce any good horror films anymore." 

As a movie lover and reviewer, if I may be able to request one thing these days, it would be that such a statement as that be put out to pasture. Over the last six years, we have been lucky enough to receive a large number of motion pictures that serve as not only adoring love letters to the fanbase and the genre's past, but a good chunk of releases, be they released to on-demand services or cineplexes, that have also managed to gather the necessary testicular fortitude to push it into a daring, new direction. Yes, there are still a myriad of unnecessary remakes and reboots that seem to come out more frequently than even I would expect, but they rarely affect the legacy of the originals, and are often forgotten about within a staggeringly short amount of time. Naturally, the response to some of the previously mentioned pictures in mind has been rather divisive, but that is expected from nearly anything to come along these days. To say that cynicism and hints of nihilism is a large problem in the communities of nearly everything that I personally like would be an understatement. However, with something as prominent as the "home invasion" sub-genre occasionally being forgotten about (save for gems such as Adam Wingard's You're Next), taking a risk by switching things up and having those who are burglarizing end up as the victims instead, is an opportunity that I believe is vital for the genre's survival.

As it turns out, 2016's Don't Breathe, written/directed by Fede Alvarez (Evil Dead 2013) and distributed by Robert Tapert and Sam Raimi's (Army of Darkness, Spider-Man) Ghost House Productions (Drag Me To Hell, 30 Days Of Night), is one of the best theatrically-released horror films that I have seen in recent memory. Heck, even though I am typing this in the month of August, I would not be shocked whatsoever to see this end up in my own personal "top ten" list towards the end of the year. A horror/thriller piece that is ripe with this much tension throughout its eighty-eight minute running time deserves all of the praise that is bestowed upon it. If you are the type of fan that pays good money to see horror flicks with the intention of being scared, or at least feeling so nervous that it could potentially induce nausea, this could be like discovering that the finest bottle of sake that you normally would go out of your way to seek is suddenly available right down the road. What a rather glorious feeling. What is sure to elicit the most amount of recognition during this feature's run over the course of the next month or two will be the wonderful cinematography and lighting, which is powerful enough to make the most claustrophobic and nyctophobic of people want to soil themselves. Unfortunately, that rules out the possibility of my own father ever viewing Don't Breathe, but you can't please everyone folks. It also packs a creepily effective score courtesy of Sexy Beast's Roque Banos, who knows not to be overbearing or obnoxious with a project such as this.

One of the wiser choices from somewhat-new heads sitting in the director's chair, as well as up-and-coming casting directors such as Rich Delia (Dallas Buyers Club, 2017's It), is to choose relatively unrecognizable faces as both heroes and villains. With this, Fede Alvarez manages to conjure up some exceptionally well done acting from our relatively minuscule list of performers. Evil Dead alumni Jane Levy is back after what seems like an eternity of absence from the big screen (hey, three years can seem that much longer in a horror fanatic's world), and reminds folks yet again about why publications and websites such as Forbes and Complex were so high on the very talented woman and her future in the world of entertainment. Her other companions, portrayed by Goosebumps' Dylan Minnette, and It Follows' Daniel Zovatto, are also in very fine form, with both adding more humanity to Don't Breathe to help keep it grounded and interesting. Quite often, you can pick out a weak link among any sort of ensemble, no matter the size, but that is far from the case in Don't Breathe. Admittedly, I have complained multiple times in the past about my personal gripes with how some characters act in situations such as these (it was my main reason for being unenthused with 2006's Them, a.ka. Ils), but when you consider their circumstances, personalities, and disappointing lives outside of their profession, being cross at them for taking certain actions becomes far more understandable.

Of course, what is a good horror movie without a diabolical reprobate? Avatar's Stephen Lang delivers one hell of a nerve-racking performance as The Blind Man (if my memory serves me right, our trio of robbers never learn his real name), and he is easily the most unique foe to come along in one of these films in several years. The aged citizen is cold, creepy, and underneath it all, assuredly deranged. While you do feel more than a few ounces of sympathy for the elderly gentlemen throughout the first half of the film's running time, its twists and turns slowly remind you that even handicapped individuals such as this one can keep terrible, awful mysteries hidden from the general public. At the risk of minor spoilers, to say that you experience a complete 180 degree turnaround on your opinion of the man, especially if you are a woman, is the most obvious statement of the year. It makes the events surrounding these poor souls, and Don't Breathe as a whole, that much more demented and daring. The Blind Man is also accompanied by a rather intimidating, relentless pet Rottweiler, who at times, manages to disturb and freak you out more than his own master can do. After witnessing the crazed canines in this year's Green Room, I think it may be safe to say that assorted writers in Hollywood have been doing a damn fine job of reminding audiences that man's best friend can be more difficult to deal with than you would think.

Don't Breathe is an often quiet, firm, yet exhilarating piece of suspenseful horror that both respectful devotees and casual fans of the genre will greatly be able to appreciate, while never feeling like it has to be desperate and scare the audience with cheap thrills and predictable cliches found in releases that are of lesser quality and take very few chances. No, it is well aware that have paid good money to be thrilled and frightened, and that after barking for so long that you "deserve a better class of fear," it is going to do the very best to stand and deliver on that request. As I have stated multiple times before, if you are willing to let yourself be sucked into a movie's world, absorbing every necessary detail and looking at these human beings as something more than just characters stuck in a scary movie, I am more than convinced that you can have just as fantastic of a time as I did. After all, when a sizable gathering of moviegoers* are eliciting several audible moans, gasps, and flat-out "NO!"s during a majority of the right moments when you are supposed to, you know that you have done your job as a filmmaker particularly well.

Now, perhaps if it isn't too much to ask for, can we hire someone to write a new character for Stephen Lang to play in the Marvel Cinematic Universe? Perhaps a "Reverse-Daredevil," ala the antagonist for the CW's adaptation of The Flash? Yes, I know that the actor is not legally blind, but one can dream, can't I?

......Wait, there are TWO OTHER individuals in the Marvel Comics world for him to potentially tackle? Well, I suppose that can suffice...for now....

Note: I only say "sizable" because, and I hate to say it, some moviegoers will venture into every picture in this field with the worst of intentions; sporting a defiant, arrogant attitude that says they lack a willingness to be scared. Don't be that person. Let your guard down. Be afraid. Be very afraid. :)

The Shallows (2016) Review

Medical school student Nancy Adams is still reeling from the passing of her mother, who has unfortunately succumbed to cancer. Feeling the need to clear her head and seek out some sort of tranquility, the young lady travels to a cloistered, seemingly remote beach, bringing along her surfboard for good measure. While there, she meets and manages to briefly interact with other fellow surfers. As the the latter decide to leave one day, Nancy paddles out further to the sea, glancing at what appears to be a large rock. After coming closer, however, she makes a horrifying discovery that leads to the woman beginning a fight for her own life, beached on a large object while a large great white shark circles nearby, waiting for her to become its next meal.



Over a good number of years, the reputation of theatrical and home releases in the realm of "natural horror" has gone downhill at an alarmingly quick rate. There may exist the possibility that this generation believes that given the number of options and useful tools at their disposal, there is truly no other way to be harmed or maimed by mother nature. Perhaps the most unfortunate victim in this decline of quality has been the always recognizable shark family. Yes, we are still blessed from time to time with a project like 2003's Open Water, but for every one of those exceptional efforts, we were treated to FAR inferior, or worse yet, laughingly bad forays that were clearly meant to appeal to the lowest common denominator. I'm speaking of motion pictures along the lines of Shark Night 3D, any and every film that premiered on the SyFy Channel, or the rather rubbish creations by production company The Asylum. Maybe it was just the old man in me that was shining through, but I went into Jaume Collet-Serra's fourth foray into the horror genre, the cleverly-titled The Shallows (fun fact: the original title was "In The Deep," which makes the tagline that much more clever), with a very open mind and an eagerness to finally find anything that reminds you that yes, sharks are very, very dangerous, and you should absolutely, positively be afraid (especially when they aren't being thrown around inside of tornados).


At first glance, The Shallows could be misconstrued as Buried at sea (don't you dare throw in a joke about the band that shares such a name). If your familiarity with the aforementioned film is poor or nonexistent, I can simply describe Rodrigo Cortes' underrated gem as "Ryan Reynolds is buried alive inside of a coffin for ninety minutes with little-to-no contact or help." And for the first act or so, it does appear to be a similar sort of dilemma for our protagonist Nancy (coincidentally played by Reynolds' current wife Blake Lively). But when it comes to this particular problem, she isn't lucky enough to have a cellular phone with her when she finds herself stranded on a rock or other nearby commodities. The only thing our heroine is blessed with is a decent amount of medical knowledge, a paltry understanding of the Spanish language, and a willingness to not give up, as tempting as it might be. Though the marketing of The Shallows as just another "killer shark" movie isn't too surprising, this is arguably more of a breakout performance from the actress herself, who manages to one-up and conquer her previous accolades in other masterful works like The Town. You are given just enough background and brief chattering between others so that you may get to know her and root for her should things go south.


And man oh manischewitz do they ever. Once our slow game of death between Nancy and the great white shark begins, the tension is palpable. At no point did I ever find myself bored or feeling that The Shallows was losing me. I felt as if I had melted into my seat, eyes glued to the screen, with nervousness coursing through my veins. The pacing and cinematography (it is a deceptively beautiful piece to look at) help up the ante, as does a criminally overlooked score from Marco Beltrami, who has worked with juggernauts such as Guillermo del Toro and Kathryn Bigelow in the past, and has even received a Satellite award for another film he scored that has small connections to this. Impressively, the cherry on the top of this palette of quality comes is the surprisingly great guiding and commanding from the usually, if not unfortunately maligned Jaume Collet-Serra, whose previous releases included the 2005 remake of Williams Castle's House Of Wax and 2009's Orphan. It goes without saying that this is the man's best job to date, and one can only imagine of what is to come in the future from the Catalonian director.


Oh, and before anyone asks, why yes, the shark that lurks beneath the ocean, stalking the oh-so-talented and lovely Nancy like something out of a slasher movie, is unquestionably relentless and flat-out intimidating. It may sound like high praise, but I can't recall the last time that I uttered as many concerned grunts or whispered "oh jeez" on more than one occasion, at least when it comes to a movie about an adult being pursued by, well, a carnivorous fish. Bruce the shark may be long gone, but his legacy lives on, and I would go so far as to say that our villain seen here is equally as frightening, even if this ancestor is computer generated (though it is incredibly hard to tell) . Hell, at least Brody and co. had a boat to climb onto, alcohol to drink, and food to eat in between daily sessions! Blake Lively? Well, she's got a seagull who happens to like hanging around her. And she has some fairly gross crabs..............yeah, I don't feel very good about that one either.


I am fairly certain that The Shallows could prove to be slightly divisive to what makes up most of today's pickier horror audiences. Some may be put off by the idea that you couldn't just try to fight back when swimming towards safety (which easy to say, but it's far from being the easiest thing to do. Also, IT'S A GREAT WHITE SHARK). Others may wish for a higher body count, complaining that you can't make a truly frightening killer shark flick unless it's been given a hard "R" by the MPAA (not true). For me personally, I highly recommend letting your guard down (because the best kind of scares are the ones where you're willing to let it happen), and taking a trip out to the cinemas to give this one a try, especially if you have longed for an honest-to-god great reminder of why the ocean can be cruel, ghastly, and unforgiving.



Plus, if you have the courage to stick around after the credits have finished, you will be graced with the presence of an unearthly, horrifying, familiar terror that has been waiting nearly twenty years to resurface.

Green Room (2016) Review

"The Ain't Rights," a group of four young musicians playing abrasive punk rock, are traveling on the road playing an assortment of gigs while struggling to make ends meet. After a particularly underwhelming show in Seaside, Oregon draws a nearly empty and apathetic crowd, a radio show host offers them the chance to play at a small club outside of Portland. Desperate for any sort of income and exposure, they agree to travel and jump on the bill. However, when they arrive, they discover that not only is the venue seemingly in the middle of nowhere, but it is also a haven for neo-nazi skinheads. After their set is finished and they wish to pack up and hit the road, band member Pat walks into the green room, a place for band members to relax before and after performing, to retrieve a cell phone that has been left behind, but stumbles across two of the patrons standing over a dead woman with a knife in her head. Panicking, the entire band suddenly find themselves locked in by the bouncers, and those inside and outside of the club have no intention of letting them leave so easily after what they have witnessed.



Given that I am going to be heading out on the road in less than twenty-four hours, wherein I will eventually find myself enjoying the perks of a four day music festival in Baltimore, Maryland, I may just cut to the chase with this opening paragraph: save for a certain Marvel Studios flick that was released within this month, Jeremy Saulnier's third directorial foray into gritty, uneasy cinema, the aptly, if not simply titled Green Room, is my frontrunner for the best picture of 2016 that has been released to theaters. In layman's terms, it is really, really damn good. The amount of unnerving tension and flat-out dread that is felt throughout its ninety-five minute running time (which runs by quicker than one thinks that it would) is nothing short of exceptional. Saulnier (who also writes here), much like the earlier efforts from genre greats like Tobe Hooper and Wes Craven, has a knack for making the audience nervous from the get go, as is evidenced when our protagonists pull up to this venue that is apparently cut off from the rest of the world. Speaking from experience, my own band (cue cheap plug) has played at clubs like this one, and trust me when I say that should anything ever go awry at places such as these, you really do suspect that you are more helpless than you realize, and who knows how long help would come (if at all). Admiringly, the man does manage to sprinkle in small bits of black comedy here and there too, so you won't just be constantly grimacing.

As with Saulnier's previous release Blue Ruin, the film's propensity for rather alarming violence very much appears out of nowhere. Of course, compared to the overabundance of modern pop culture phenomenons, it is far from the goriest, but every single sequence and action packs more of a punch than any traditional slasher or Dimension Pictures production could ever churn out. As someone who has a relatively iron stomach, there were multiple moments in here that just had me wincing and emitting an audible gasp or pained groan. Green Room also boasts some top notch performances from an impressive gathering of decidedly underrated actors and actresses, including the usually reliable Anton Yelchin (Star Trek, Charlie Bartlett), Blue Ruin and Hellbenders alum Macon Blair (*waving hello in case he reads this*), and Imogen Poots (28 Weeks Later), who wears a "chelsea" haircut rather well if you ask this lonely, single fella....wait, can't get distracted here. Everyone shows up here with the absolute best of intentions, clearly fascinated by and embracing the script which they had previously read. The most surprising addition to Green Room is the casting of one Sir Patrick Stewart. While I myself will say that its always going to be difficult watching the esteemed thespian take part in anything that doesn't involve the Star Trek franchise, he knocks it out of the park by portraying an eerily calm, if not deceptively sinister club owner who is hiding far more sinister secrets than even his own employees or underlings would believe. He's the cherry on top of a very bloody sundae.

There is also a real hidden gem that stands out in Green Room, and that is the attention to detail when it comes to the musical side. Perhaps I'm just a sucker for any motion picture that actually seems to correctly get the vibes of anything associated with punk rock, heavy metal, or hardcore, but from I have heard, Saulnier and his cohorts/crew spent quite a few years involved with the late 90s/early 2000s scene, and you can tell. Don't believe me? Well, Toxic Holocaust mastermind Joel Grind helps contribute to The Ain't Rights own tunes, and the list of "thank yous" during the end credits reads like your friend's pretty awesome iTunes collection. So shut your yap. There is also a rather dreary (but great!) score permeated throughout, and a solid mixture of licensed music heard amidst the chaos. 

If my memory serves me well (which is debatable at best, as I can attest that goldfish have a better chance at remembering little things than I do), I previously wrote that director Jeremy Saulnier could very well be on his way to becoming the next Joel or Ethan Coen. Well, since my own posts' views have increased a tad bit over the past few years, I will boldly repeat myself and cement that opinion. The craftsmanship of a picture like Green Room is beyond impressive, and for those seeking out a fresh, bold, darkly funny, and quite frankly unsettling piece of cinema, the man's third full-length effort (his second to be released in theaters), I can not encourage you enough to seek this out and give it your hard-earned cash. Trust me, as great as a picture like Captain America: Civil War is, it isn't going anywhere; it'll be fine. Please support the smaller guys in this case, so that their repertoire and cast may grow even larger with future endeavors, and eventually warrant not just wider releases for fresh projects, but even more accolades and awards.

Or if you miss this particular one in theaters, you can at least buy Saulnier and Blair a round of drinks should you run into them in or around the Austin or Portland areas. They had the good sense to put Midnight, Bad Brains, and Napalm Death onto the movie's soundtrack after all.