Children of the Night

Weapons (Zach Cregger, 2025)

Never really understood the praise for Zach Cregger's Barbarian (2022). Despite an intriguing concept, revolving around an Airbnb in a derelict neighbourhood, it was let down by some idiotic characters, particularly its lead, along with a ridiculous final act. As a result, I found the film to be somewhat mediocre and indistinguishable from the glut of other overrated horror titles released at the time. Therefore, with Cregger's latest effort Weapons (2025) receiving an abundance of love via critics and movie goers alike, I was more than willing to let its hype die down before even mustering the strength to see it. Fortunately, Weapons is a considerate improvement over Cregger's previous film and a welcome surprise.

Centred around the mysterious disappearance of a classroom of third graders from their homes one night, Weapons is a non-linear film broken up into multiple intersecting chapters; highlighting the ripple effect of the event via various characters. School teacher Justine Gandy (Julia Garner) the town's pariah blamed for the disappearance of her classroom, and Archer Graff (Josh Brolin), father to one of the missing children, embarking on his own personal investigation of the mass disappearance, have more screen time than some of the other featured characters, such as the school's comical principal Marcus Miller (Benedict Wong). The final and most expository chapter in the film deals with Alex Lilly (Cary Christopher), the only child in Justine's class not to disappear into the night.

Performance wise, Garner and Brolin are very good in their roles; the former managing to play a deeply unlikeable character initially and turn it around into a deeply flawed and sympathetic individual, whilst the latter delivers an intensely emotional state of a parent coping with the loss of his child. However, it's Amy Madigan's performance as Aunt Gladys, best described as looking like the missing link between Kathy Griffin and the Joker, who will undoubtedly be most well remembered here. Partly because she resembles an old hag, with an ill-suited orange wig and terrifying grimace, but it's also due to how great she is playing such a manipulative and chilling character. No doubt, this won't be the last we'll see of Aunt Gladys.

Much like his previous film, Cregger injects dark humour throughout this mystery tale. Considering its premise, these comedic scenes are both cathartic and very welcome relief. Cregger also laces surreal dream sequences that tread the line of conventional horror films and art-house surrealism. Other highlights include some disturbing scenes that won't be forgotten in a hurry. Seeing a bloody and bug-eyed Benedict Wong running through the town like an absolute lunatic is one such example. Additionally, it's refreshing for a film to not cop out with a vaguely ambiguous explanation for an ending. An annoying cliché, which is both pretentious, unsatisfying and a blight upon many films. 

At a little over two-hours long, Cregger's slow burn thriller is just a bit too long for a film of this ilk. It's largely due to Cregger investing so heavily in multiple characters receiving a dedicated chapter. While these chapters are executed with entertaining satisfaction, I'm not entirely sure the film needed so many segments. Both the cop and junkie storylines could have probably been streamlined better, or possibly omitted. Still, along with a few plot holes, it's not a serious gripe in what's otherwise a genuinely entertaining film with a hilariously disturbing Benny Hill ending.

Hollywood occasionally delivers a large budget, mainstream horror that actually delivers the goods; Weapons is definitely one of those films for me. Given how mediocre I found Barbarian, I'm kind of glad I gave Zach Cregger a second chance as he might be the go-between of 2010s era James Wan and pre-up his own pretentious arse Ari Aster. Which subsequently has me eager to see what Cregger delivers when he tackles the Resident Evil franchise.

Recommended.  

Of Death, of Love

Dellamorte Dellamore (Michele Soavi, 1994)

Largely considered as the last great Italian Horror by film critics and genre enthusiasts, Michele Soavi's darkly comic Dellamorte Delllamore (AKA Cemetery Man, 1994), is both a surreal and unconventional offering bound to frustrate and confuse anyone mistaken into thinking this would be another gory, flesh eating, Italian zombie flick in the vein of Zombi 2 (1979) or Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror (1981). While commonly described as an existential zombie film, it's only partially accurate, as the zombies, or "returners" as called by the film's protagonist, are only prominent in the first half of the film. The remainder is a descent into madness, where the living are the bigger focus of the story. Culminating with an ambiguous ending, that's open to all sorts of interpretation.

Gianni Romni's screenplay is an adaptation of the novel of the same name, penned by author and comic book writer Tiziano Sclavi. The book was a prequel to Dylan Dog, a cult Italian comic storied around an English, paranormal investigator. Artist and co-creator, Angelo Stano based his on the titular character on the English thespian Rupert Everett, after seeing him in the drama Another Country (1984). Flattered by the use of his image and the general premise of Dellamorte Dellamore, Everett's eagerness and involvement in the film's pre-production came very early on.

On the outskirts of Buffalora, a rustic town in northern Italy, the chronically depressed Francesco Dellamorte is the caretaker of the nearby cemetery, which is besieged with the select undead who rise from their graves seven days after their burial. The thirty-something protagonist, who has more in common with an emo teenager, is accompanied by an almost mute (the only thing he utters is, "Gna!" and in typical Lassie fashion, its meaning is understood by Dellamorte), spherically-shaped manchild known as Gnaghi (François Hadji-Lazaro). Together, they deal with the returners like a humorous odd couple burdened with the most mundane of tasks. Interestingly, Dellamorte is a bit of a pretentious prat with his depressed poetic drivel and confessing to only reading the telephone book. His cellar dwelling companion, however, likes nothing more than consuming plates of spaghetti with bread and watching war footage on his beloved TV.

Their dynamic changes with the introductions of She (the stone cold, Finnish Italian fox Anna Falchi). The buxom bombshell plays three different, but identical looking women (technically four if you count her returner form). The first is a beautiful, young widow with a penchant for the ossuary. The second is the second mayor's secretary with a fear of male genitalia. The final version of She is a college student who turns out to be a prostitute. All three of these incarnations have a profound effect on Francesco Dellamorte's mental state. Ultimately, turning him into a man who no longer kills the dead, but the living. As shown when the Grim Reaper appears and tells Dellamorte, "Stop killing the dead. They're mine. If you don't want the dead coming back to life, why don't you just kill the living, shoot them in the head? Are you listening to me?" Indeed he does, as he eventually drives into town and goes on a killing spree; shooting the local youths who mocked him for supposedly being impotent.

Structurally, Dellamorte Dellamore is top heavy (not a pun on Falchi's fantastic topless scenes*) as the first incarnation of She consumes the first hour of the film. The other versions of the alluring femme and their impact in the film, run far shorter. They're all pivotal, however, as they're key triggers to the decline of Dellamorte's deteriorating mental state. There is of course Gnagi's sideplot, where he falls for the career obsessed mayor's daughter. Dead or alive; she's still only fourteen years old, regardless of Gnagi believing he is also a child. Back on topic, the film does manage to work really well, despite its absurdity. It's largely due to its uniqueness and its surreal, dreamlike quality; everything feels and behaves so out-of-wack, that any flaw might come across as intentional by Michele Soavi. A notable reason why Dellamorte Dellamore is given the clichéd description as being Lynchian. Although, Italain horror has always had its own eccentricities and general weirdness well before the term was ever coined.

In terms of the film's visual style, it's a veritable mix of vintage Sam Raimi and early Peter Jackson; particularly many of the nocturnal graveyard scenes. Mauro Marchetti's stunning cinematography easily elevates the film above most other '90s horror films, let alone the barely functioning Italian horror industry at the time. Soavi, a fan of classic fine art and recreating them in his films, creates a homage to one during the ossuary scene, where Dellamorte has his head wrapped in a scarf, passionately kissing a veiled She; an obvious reference to Rene Magritte's The Lovers II. Other films also get the referential treatmentl  the most blatant being the snow globe from Orson Welles's Citizen Kane (1941). A totally obscure one, is Dellamorte constantly mistaken for an engineer; a reference to David Hemming's character in Dario Argento's Deep Red (1975). Of course, Soavi was no stranger to referencing grand pieces of art with his directorial debut, the Euro-slasher Stagefright (1987); a classic horror in its own right.

Perhaps the film's greatest achievement is Rupert Everett being in it, playing it thoroughly emo, yet defying the odds and being the superb lead. Easily his best film. Witnessing him shoot dumdum bullets into the undead while acting thoroughly morose is how I would imagine Ash J. William would be if he was a poncey English bloke. Everett is also the common element that keeps the film flowing and compelling, regardless of its incoherent plot. He bridges all the on-screen insanity from one scene to the next, from his comedic scenes with Hadji-Lazaro's Gnagi, to his doomed romances with Falchi's multiples of She; it's thoroughly entertaining.

Bottom line - Dellamorte Dellamore is a classic, yet sadly perfect swan song as the last great Italian horror. It's also tragic Soavi never helmed any other theatrical films afterwards and retreated into TV work, as he stepped out of the shadow of being Dario Argento's protégé and proved to possess his own unique style and talent. The Italian film industry was in dire straits at the time, and all the great directors were well past their primes, which makes Soavi an important name in the canon of Italian horror for being responsible for its last great entry.

*Can't link any of the multiple screenshots I took of Anna Falchi's topless scenes as Imgur deleted them. The philistines.

Foul Feet Smell Something Horrible

Carry on Screaming! (Gerald Thomas, 1966)

Two era defining institutions in British cinema that happen to be favourites for your host are Hammer Film Productions and the Carry on... franchise. Peter Rogers, producer of the latter, would often release films which would parody popular trends at the time, and in the mid-sixties, Hammer's sumptuously colourful gothic horror films were ripe for some lampooning. The result would be Gerald Thomas helming Carry on Screaming (1966), arguably the best film from the beloved film franchise.

With the absence of the legendary comedic actor, Sid James, a leading and highly charismatic fixture in the majority of the Carry On... films, the role of the lead, Detective. Sgt. Sidney Bung, was offered to Harry H. Corbett, better known as playing one half of the rag 'n' bone collective in the classic British sitcom Steptoe and Son (1962 - 1974). Corbett wasn't the only actor making their one and only appearance in the franchise as the role of Valeria Watt, the vampish femme was played by the smokey voiced Fenella Fielding. Both of their debuts was such perfect casting, you would probably be shocked to learn they weren't first choices originally. Of course, the supporting cast, comprised of regular Carry on.. luminaries such as Kenneth Williams, Jim Dale, Joan Sims, Bernard Breslau and Peter Butterworth. Along with those actors, there are also scene stealing cameos from Charles Hawtrey and Jon Pertwee.

Visually, the film captures Hammer's gothic eye candy with acute perfection. The set locations like the Watt's Bide-a-Wee Rest Home and its surrounding woodland area, look they could have come from Terence Fisher's Dracula Prince of Darkness (1966) which was also released in the same year. Along with the costume and prop department also following through with replicating Hammer's distinguishable aesthetics and you have a film that perfectly executes in its design brief. Outside of the comedy, the only real distinguishable difference is the absence of any Kensignton Gore.

Considering it throws various features such as Frankenstein's monster type missing links, an Egyptian mummy, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde potions, a House of Wax style theme and various other elements into the mix, you would be forgiven for thinking that Talbot Rothwell's screenplay might have been a complete mess on paper, but it all gels together superbly well on-screen. It also helps that the humourous dialogue is penned better than any of today's overrated film comedies. One example is this exchange between four of the film's characters which is pure poetry to your host and why Talbot Rothwell’s scripts ought to be taught in English Literature classes to the masses:

Det. Sgt. Bung: A young lady has disappeared and we're anxious to trace her whereabouts.

Dr. Watt: Oh? Whereabouts?

Det. Sgt. Bung: Hereabouts.

Albert Potter: At ten o' clock.

Det. Sgt. Bung: Or thereabouts.

Constable Slobotham: In this vicinity.

Det. Sgt. Bung: Or roundabouts.

Constable Slobotham: We're police officers.

Albert Potter: Or layabouts. 

 

Absolutely love the scene where Harry H. Corbett and Peter Butterworth as the bungling police officers attempt to put the various clues together and produce one of my favourite lines in the film.

The Carry on... films might be seen as dated and problematic today, and as such, they’re often treated as guilty pleasures or mistakenly overlooked for lacking any intellectual or artistic merit. Carry on Screaming proves its naysayers wrong for the reasons already stated. The only guilt I've ever felt over the film was the error in forgetting to include it in my Desert Island Blu-Ray Discs post. Carry on Screaming! is a certified classic in British film and ought to be given the credit it truly deserves.

My Little Powrie

Unwelcome (Jon Wright, 2023)

Ireland has produced some solid horror films over the years, and director Jon Wright has played a hand thanks to standouts like Tormented (2009) and Grabbers (2012). His latest film, Unwelcome (2023), is a fairy tale style horror inspired by Celtic folklore that I've seen accurately described as Straw Dogs meets Fraggle Rock.

After a traumatic home invasion, young couple, Jamie (Douglas Booth) and his expectant wife Maya (Hannah John-Kamen), discover they've inherited a house in the Irish countryside and so upsticks from the shit hole that is London for greener pastures. With their new home needing repairs, our couple unknowingly hire the services of the local scumbag family, led by the patriarch "Daddy" Whelan (Colm Meaney). As can be expected, things escalate from loafting while on the job to more threatening territory. To add further fuel to the fire, our protagonists' home also has other occupants residing at the bottom of their garden - folklore creatures known as redcaps.

Unwelcome harkens back to old creature features in the vein of Gremlins. Filmed with a combination of traditional practical effects and digital wizardry, the end result for these violent redcaps is very impressive. Along with their wicked nature, the imps are entertaining to watch as they lay the smack down upon the Whelans. Their comedic actions and behaviour were what really made the film for me.

The garden scenes were filmed in a studio. This proved to be an ingenious decision, as it utilised the exaggerated theatrics present in old studio films for instant visual changes to occur. I also observed the use of a studio evoked the twisted fairy tale atmosphere of Neil Jordan's The Company of Wolves (1984). This stylised treatment adds a lot to the fantastical elments of the film.

Unwelcome isn't entirely perfect. Fantastical as the premise might be, Jamie being such a failure is cringe to watch at times, regardless if it's for comedic purposes. His character does develop some courage during one confrontational scene; in a similar vain to Dustin Hoffman in Straw Dogs (1971), but he's definitely a burden to Maya at times. She is the stronger person of the two, and it becomes more apparent throughout the film that she is the film's focal point.

Kudos to Jon Wright for avoiding what could have potentially been another excrutiatingly pretentious, art house, folk-horror and delivering an accessible and entertaining creature feature for commoners like me. Since Hatching (2022) eventually made it onto Joe Dante's radar, then I would wager Unwelcome's murderous critters would wind up on there, too. It's not perfect, but Wright's film manages to break the disappointing run of horror films that have been around in the last few months and that's a cause for celebration from me. Enjoyable film.