Zombos Says: Fair+ (assorted cardboard acting and sub-basement budget levels (though the splatter effects are a hoot) level all to home movie status, but this anthology horror has an artful 1970s and 80s patina and tongue in cheek sensibility that cries out for love: a festival-fan winner for sure).

Let me state up front that the sizzling poster has nothing to do with the movie. It’s a great poster, don’t take me wrong, but my guess is they spent more money on it than the movie. But if you ride along with this 79 minutes worth of three stories that kick off with a hop in the car, you may find some artful recapturing of the 1970s and 1980s grit and cheapness which is nirvana for true believers. Of course, you’d have to be older, like me, to fully appreciate the camera work and tongue in cheek style that harkens back to that rush you got when perusing the video store shelves–not Blockbuster, I mean the mom and pop stores with the beaded curtained off areas–but that’s the fun of festival-tour movies: they always mix it up for the old, the young, and the true savant of genre terrors.

After a montage of questionable fares, irritating our driver Jean (Keegan Chambers), the first nightmare kicks off with a couple hopping into the backseat as they decide on their new home; which, of course, has a sordid history that a neighbor relates, eventually, (and barely, as his acting effort was just as sordid) after strange things and behaviors are seen. What’s really strange is how Peter (Matthew Chisholm) still has a video tape player so he and his wife, Monica (Annette Wozniak) can watch the box of VHS tapes found in the new house’s basement. The tapes show Jimmy, a fitness masochist (best performance award to Ry Barret, for sure), pumping and sweating with Hulk Hogan gusto. Here’s where the vibe capturing both 1970s street-level slackness and 1980s superficial slickness shines through in both camera work and overreaching tongue outside of cheek. That vibe turns video nasty when Jimmy works himself out of the tapes and into prime time, featuring bargain-basement blood splat that is so bad it’s completely lovable in effect and in keeping with the 70 and 80s tone and mood.

The pace (and acting chops) picks up some speed as the second couple joins Jean, two guys boozing it up (J. Robert Bellamy and Brent Baird), daring each other to get tats (is daring still a thing?), choose the wrong tattoo parlor. Their friendship heads to a blowout as one gets the tatting of his life. One well-placed hilarious moment comes when the regretful tat man meets his girlfriend’s parents. Yes, we’ve seen this black inked nightmare scenario before–actually, a lot–but our duo and their predicament has enough emotional and comic appeal propping it up–except for the wax figure lackluster ending. Whoever did the set dressing for that one must have been sick that day.

The last outing for Jean comes with a worrisome fare hopping into the backseat but making moves to the front seat, and Jean finds out what’s in her trunk the hard way. The usual switcheroo occurs, then the guns come out to determine who the real badass is. The novelty here is who does the shooting. If you are thinking of driving for Uber or Lyft, best not to see this movie or just skip the last story.

While not as completely off the wall watchable as The Video Dead or Spookies, The Final Ride keeps the pace moving just enough, and the storylines watchable, just enough, to make it a fun ride. Just keep in mind that Nicholas Cage is not in this one, so don’t be looking for him (even if the poster shows Ghost Rider driving a car instead of his motorcycle).

Zombos Says: Good (slow art house pace and limited budget keeps the camera tight, but dialog is enjoyably crisp, which helps keep the story creepy and droll).

There is a slow, droll, one-joke told too many times standup delivery going on with Too Late, but like that budding comedian you suddenly discover, it grows on you. You would think comedian Steven Wright directed this one, given it is so deadpanned-droll, but D.W. Thomas did, and he keeps the camera budget tight, the main players sedate but copacetic, and the colors and lighting subdued. The most energetic spot can be found in the opening credits, done with a Beetlejuice-styled motion and mood-setting music by Mikel Hurwitz. Tom Becker, writer, takes the slice of her life (Violet's) approach with  dialog and situations thick in irony, weirdness, and a sardonic twist on the saying "dying is easy, comedy is hard" as some comedians find dying off stage quite easy. 

Assisting in their demise is Violet (Alyssa Limperis), who aids the digestion of one Bob Devore (Ron Lynch), a long in the tooth comedian who really is older than he looks. Apparently Violet, yearning for her big break, assists Bob with winnowing the competition by the light of the full moon.

Not much is explained about Bob's eating habits or his pedigree, but the closing credits hint at a backstory, so do not miss them. I wonder if the choice of Bob's last name was a take on devour? Which he does, never seeming to bite off more than he can chew, to Violet's growing exasperation. When he goes after a comedian she really likes, Jimmy, the fur flies. 

Jimmy (Will Weldon), newbie in comedy and love, also ruffles her fur a bit too as Bob sets his sights on him (or his diet, take your pick). When stardom beckons, their relationship hits the skids and Violet must decide whether to feed Bob's appetite or Jimmy's ego or her own long-overdue freedom from late night dinners by moonlight. While she makes up her mind, Bob decides to play rough after she and her friend, Belinda (Jenny Zigrino), try to play rougher by changing his sleeping arrangements. 

Fredo (Fred Armisen) provides some comic relief as he tussles with Bob's endless demands for lighting gels and a few comics strain at their routines in brief–thankfully–moments. Will Fredo ever find the right lighting gel for Bob? Will Violet end up as the main course after serving so many? Will Bob need to reach for the Pepto-Bism0l? It's never too late to find out.

Zombos Says: Good. Slow pacing and an artful but ponderously delivered ecological-warning weigh it down.

Gaia's body and ecological horror elements can be found in earlier movies such as Matango and The Ruins. At this point in time, given the intensifying global climate, the bitter taste of pandemic disruption, the continuing extinction of many species, the endless pollution of our oceans, and how little we have done to address it or even freak out about it, I am not sure that more two-fisted messaging about an ecological apocalypse is anywhere near a priority for most movie audiences. On a personal note, perhaps a little less we-know-we're-in-deep-shit movies and a lot more of what-do-we-do-about-it movies would be encouraging, at least for this reviewer. 

We tend to close the barn door after the horses have fled and yell fire after the barn has burned down. Repeatedly. Given that, this movie should be scary first and then hit us hard with its didactic ecological doomsday messaging through that horror. Jacob Bouwer (director) and Tertius Kapp (writer) prefer it the other way. Their direction makes Gaia a more polished and visually-confirming art house take on a truly terrible environmental and body horror that overwhelms its four characters, but underwhelms our emotions as we watch it unfold. In other words, Gaia aims for the head, not the palpitating heart.

Perhaps the direction is too documentarian and the characters too pensive? Brooding is not what is needed here, yet brooding we get. Even after a blind creature crashes into the cabin, it feels more like a nuisance than an actual threat. Gabi, who should be freaked out by the sudden appearance and anxious to get out of there, instead becomes more determined to stay. What gives?

What should be gut-wrenching moments to watch are delivered as artfully poetic annihilations instead. And, of course, there is the mutated, personal religion (every pre and post apocalyptic movie needs one, of course) to complicate things and that's where the horror festers in this story. It affects each character, especially the patriarch with the cliff-fall from sanity, but Gaia weighs down his and its manifesto with overly long excursions into dreamscapes and not enough of the truly frightening tree that mothers too well (depicted with excellent imagery and mood). The malevolent denizens of this strange forest, clearly having stayed too long in the woods, create little tension or threat–especially when given the overused clicks and ticks that many apocalyptic monsters seem to suffer from in these movies–and everyone goes about their day without much apprehension. Except for Winston. He's the lone black guy, so you know how he will wind up.  The characters worry about the forest creatures as much as one would for an overstayed houseguest.

Two park rangers, making their rounds, step into the singular lives and forest of two isolated hunters, primitively living  off the land. An errant drone sends one of the rangers, Gabi (Monique Rockman)–against the warnings of the other, Winston (Anthony Oseyemi)–to find it. He eventually chases after her when she fails to make it back to the river at the appointed time. She finds the drone and Barend (Carel Nel), and his son Stefan (Alex van Dyk). Both men are survivalists, but Stefan grew up in the forest while his father chose to live there. What happened to his mother is the root to what happens with each of them, and the underpinning of the connection between Barend and the land, and the ecological horror growing there. Instead of the science that Barend once followed, he now exists in a quasi-religious and crazy-state abandonment, making his altar at the strange tree bearing even stranger fruit.

Gabi upsets the balance of this isolation and religious manifesto folie a deux, and weakens the father and son relationship to force the story's path to the usual downbeat conclusion. One can question the choices she makes as her reluctant helpers try to get her out of the forest so they can return to their normal survivalist routine, but she tries to understand them and what is happening to and around her. Every action, every conflict, is photographed with an overarching gloom that permeates the forest, the simple cabin, and Gabi's dreams. Barend, with his frail body and intense stare, is gloom and doom personified, even revels in it as he writes his manifesto by candle light. His son is no longer so sure of his father's intentions or authority, now that Gabi has entered their solitary existence to awaken sexual feelings that were unknown to him before her arrival.

Visually, Gaia is a treat. Story-wise, it needs more bite for greater emotional impact. If you are looking for a cerebral ecological horror movie, it is for you.

Zombos Says: Good+. A fun, light, horror romp that shines mostly because of the actors involved.

Watching the volley-balling egos, the gee whiz let's put on a show attitude, and the slow intrusion of an evil spirit that knows a lot about communicating remotely (in this case supernaturally, no Zoom needed), makes Untitled Horror Movie an enjoyable horror-lite watch.  

Vanity Fair did an article on the making of this movie during its covid quarantine production last year. With everyone in lockdown, the actors went old school, learning how to do their makeup, hairdressing, gaff taping, lighting, camera work; in essence, putting on a one person show that could be edited  into an ensemble later. Zoom handled the conference calls, directions, and how-to videos provided the spot training.

The undertaking reminded me of one of those Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland backyard musical movies where the kids pitch in and put on a show. No one sings or dances in this digital age version though, and Mickey and Judy didn't have to deal with demonic possession (though, looking back, that would have been cool), or do their own makeup and lighting. Having experienced the horrors of lighting, sunlight and drapery, and webcam positioning for too many Zoom meetings, I can tell you it is a miracle this movie got made at all.

Untitled Horror Movie has a slick slacks gloss to it, with a humorous crease running its entire length. It could have used more horror-tense moments, but inside jokes and the Hollywood tinsel digs and jibbing from person to person is mesmerizing. Given that you need to watch six talking heads most of the time, those heads better be connected to some lively and watchable characters: no problems there; the facial expressions, the verbal jousting, and the clean editing makes for a lively display of talent and humorous dialog with the building malevolence. 

It starts with six actors (Claire Holt, Katherine McNamara, Darren Barnet, Emmy Raver-Lampman, Luke Baines, Timothy Granaderos) in search of a project after they fear their television series is cancelled. Using a found footage approach, video chatting, and in one instance a paired meeting (still done with quarantine in mind), they banter with stereotypical personalities, that may not be so exaggerated, as one would think. Lesly Kahn provides the funniest moments or should I say her dog does? Tough call there as she coaches one intrepid actor into his character for the horror movie the group decides they should make. Unfortunately, Chrissy (Katherine McNamara) is into pendulum crystals to help her make decisions. She said she got it at the Rose Bowl where nothing bad happens. Someone points out it's like a little Ouija board of badness, but a banishment curse is easily found on the Internet and their off and running–into trouble. 

The curse, of course, kicks in and one by one they're zoombombed by the supernatural. While more visual terror would have been a plus, the vivid characters keep it mesmerizingly funny, aided by the crisp editing. One would wish all Zoom meetings were this enjoyable.

Note: As always, I receive screener links, book copies, and other stuff for review. But I still review 'em as I see 'em. So there.