THE OUTWATERS
Robbie Banfitch‘s found footage horror film THE OUTWATERS begins its reign of terror immediately. Presented as case evidence in the disappearance of four friends shooting a music video in the Mojave desert, we experience the film through the three memory cards filled with video in chronological order. Yes, we’ve seen plenty of found footage since The Blair Witch Project in 1999, but THE OUTWATERS takes the genre to a new level. Welcome to the latest film you’ll talk about for a long time.
Like in The Blair Witch Project, each character goes by their real-life name. Banfitch is the sole cinematographer. The shaky handheld camerawork gives the film solid legitimacy. The sound editing varies based on the speaker’s proximity to the camera, lending to the validity of the experience. With the film opening with a horrifying 911 call, memory card number one contains relatively mundane introductions to the characters. Background information reveals itself in what is essentially Robbie’s private vacation footage. But, you’re so entranced by the opening audio, you become obsessed with discovering the cause of those screams. That, my friends, is compelling editing.
Card two introduces the mystery in earnest. Card three is chaos. 99.9% of the film occurs through Robbie’s lens’ perspective. Much of the explosive final hour is lit by nothing but a flashlight. Therefore, a great deal of what we can’t see paralyzes us. Don’t for a second think that the daylight is any safer. What we do get a glimpse of is gag-inducing and chaotic fear. Ultimately, the ear-piercing manipulation of sound grabs you by the throat. I forgot to breathe. Fair warning: Everything is so dizzying you may get queasy. The script evolves in such a clever and unique way I just resigned myself to yelling. “WTF?!” at each new reveal. It simply keeps going and going. I stopped trying to figure out which way was up. THE OUTWATERS‘ final few minutes made me gasp. If that’s not an endorsement, I don’t know what is. Robbie Banfitch is the next great horror auteur. No one can take that away from him.
Directed by: Robbie Banfitch
Starring: Robbie Banfitch, Angela Basolis, Michelle May, Scott Schamell, and Leslie Ann Banfitch and features original music by Salem Belladonna.
Playing in select theaters nationwide (US and Canada) beginning February 9 including: New York (Alamo Drafthouse Manhattan, Regal Essex 14, Kaufman Astoria), Los Angeles (Music Hall 3), Atlanta, Austin, Boston, Calgary, Chicago, Cleveland, Dallas, Denver, Detroit, Houston, Miami, Minneapolis, Philadelphia, Phoenix, Portland, San Antonio, San Diego, San Francisco, Seattle, St. Louis, Toronto, Vancouver, Washington, D.C and many more.
Following its theatrical run, Cinedigm and Bloody Disgusting plan to release The Outwaters exclusively on its horror streaming service as a SCREAMBOX Original.
All theaters: https://fandan.co/3jjjkuW
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Simultaneously frightening and punchable, Charlie Carrick plays Simon with loathsome energy. Kaniehttio Horn, as Tess, brings tough cookie energy. It’s a wonderful balance for Wunmi Mosaku playing Sophie. She arrives with a genuine mother-hen vibe. As tensions rise, Mosaku serves as a mediator and mender. These three women complement each other perfectly. It was a joy to watch such grounded performances.
Anna Kendrick is captivating as Alice. Writer Alanna Francis hands Kendrick a gift by giving the character the hair-pulling disorder, Trichotillomania. She is the physical embodiment of anxiety. Her naturally petite frame and stature lend themselves to heightened physical frailty. But it is Kendrick’s idiosyncracies that place you inside the mind of a woman consumed by terror.
The script’s structure occurs in three distinct acts. The subplot of a local missing woman presents the viewer with a myriad of emotional and narrative possibilities. The gravity of female friendship and the innate protective instincts we carry loom large. The fear women face on a day-to-day basis feels weighty in the narrative. ALICE, DARLING is a keen reclamation of power through the love and support of their fellow sisters.
First-time director Ric Maddox, alongside writers Sean Crampton and Jordan Wisely, brings the story of an elite ex-Navy seal with PTSD placed in a top-secret government rehabilitation program. Using criminal civilians as bait, can our soldier in question be saved? A twist on The Most Dangerous Game (1931) meets Universal Soldier (1992), THE STALKING FIELDS is an action-packed entry into a potential new franchise.
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As a self-professed Gleek, the series contains so much information I didn’t know. Safety issues, money, and around-the-clock nonstop work, from the mouths of friends, crew members, and entertainment reporters, The Price of Glee pulls the curtain back on all the behind-the-scenes drama and addresses the all too familiar internet rumor that the show may be cursed. Episode one concludes with Cory Monteith’s death and ends on a cliffhanger. Episode two picks right back up where we left off, focusing mainly on the aftermath of Monteith’s passing. Delving into Mark Salling’s child pornography conviction and subsequent suicide, this episode melds into the third with Naya Rivera‘s father speaking about her tragic death.
Transitions between conversations feature video clips and cast photos. My main gripe with episodes two and three is the repetition of said images. A show that spanned six seasons deserved fresh photos. It was a glaring amateur mistake. Is THE PRICE OF GLEE a touch like an E! True Hollywood Story? Very much so, but as a fan, I was endlessly intrigued, hoping for any new information. While the cast has come forward to say they were not involved, hearing crew members that genuinely cared for them and with (mostly) kind words, their insight is vital to understanding the immense pressure this phenomenon created.
Steve Balderson‘s films are rather distinctive. Their lush visual impact sticks in your brain. His newest film, Alchemy of the Spirit, is no exception. Possessing a dreamy, even otherworldly look, Balderson makes the mundane glow. The quiet becomes claustrophobic. As the film begins, the sound editing alongside the score creates an unsettling feeling. The audience resides inside the manic mind of a grieving man. At 23 mins and 10 seconds into the film, we get a shot that elicits every emotion tied to this film. The symmetry, artistic and of two souls as one, is breathtaking. You will not miss it. There is a Picasso-esque madness to it. Balderson thought about its impact as it is the current key art for the film. Very smart. That sense of panic eases once introduced to a languid score of Debussy, Bach, and other classical beauty. While the darkness lies just under the surface, the screenplay’s nuances extend beyond what I expected from the first third of the film.
Sarah Clarke, as Evelyn, is chilling and beautiful. Her voice, combined with soul-piercing imagery, is haunting. The grounded chemistry between Clarke and Xander Berkeley plays with a familiarity of real-life lovers, which makes sense as the two actors have been married since 2002. Berkeley, who I recently lauded in 
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The 6-month journey from Earth to Mars captured the most intense solar flares ever experienced in all space exploration, forcing the team to reboot both rovers. Angela Bassett’s voice gently narrates Spirit and Opportunity’s actions. The CGI simulations of Spirit and Opportunity are breathtaking. I’ve never seen anything like them. The footage from inside the labs and control room, combined with the tense sci-fi-inspired score, keep you on the edge of your seat. You find yourself cheering, holding your breath, tearing up, and singing along to the mission-curated soundtrack. 
If the mystery of space intrigues you, if you’ve ever looked up at the night sky and wondered if we were alone in the universe, GOOD NIGHT OPPY is a film tailor-made for your imagination. It’s a shame The Academy overlooked such a crowd-pleaser. If there ever was a more appropriate “To infinity and beyond” moment in documentary filmmaking, I sure as hell can’t think of one.
The insights into Caro’s work process are breathtaking. One moment, in particular, stands out: while working on one of the volumes focused on the life of Lyndon Johnson, Caro had the opportunity to interview Johnson’s younger brother, Sam Houston Johnson. A tremendous opportunity, but Caro found he wasn’t getting the level of rich detail he craved. So, he brings Sam back into his childhood kitchen and has him sit in the very chair he sat in as a young boy. Caro sits behind him so that everything appears just as it would be in Sam’s memories. It is only then that Caro asks his questions again. Talk about literal background research. 
Turn Every Page offers a peek behind the curtain of a complex and critical industry. Ironically, what it offers very little of is the dynamic between its two titular protagonists. Aside from one scene, they never interact on camera. Despite director Lizzie Gottlieb’s best efforts, this cannot help but feel a bit like a missed opportunity. In this framing, both men are free to lay their own narratives. It would have been a pleasure to see them challenged to edit one another’s perspectives.
Even though the script overflows with tropes, they are masterfully woven into a compelling narrative. As multiple complications arise, the camera finally moves in a smooth dronelike manner. Then the gore hits us right in the face. *nudge, nudge, wink, wink* I would pay so much money to experience YULE LOG again in 3D. No, seriously. Also, don’t for a moment think you have the slightest idea of what comes next. YULE LOG is absolutely deranged and ridiculously entertaining.
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“Ryan” takes an emotionally invested approach as JK’s publicist. He speaks in disguise, understanding the sensitive nature of everything he is about to reveal. Since Ryan has a sister with a painful genetic disease, his interest lies in protecting the children and JK’s bold innovation. Politics, science, government regulations, and public opinion clash as JK’s work is exposed before publication. The Chinese government rescinds its promise of protection.
present
Locke’s script sets a solid pace, with details of her daughter’s disappearance slowly revealing themselves, unrequited love, past regressions, and secrets boiling over. Darlene’s ex-brother-in-law lands on her doorstep under the guise of a surprise family reunion, but his ulterior motive involves a revelation in Sally’s case. The information he’s been sitting on as Darlene relentlessly searched for Sally, became an advocate for other families, and got her alcoholism under control. The rage and fear evolve into a knockdown, drag-out fight between redemption and revenge. 
Compounded by the raging snow outside, any turmoil coming from the house is more than muffled. This simple device proves to be a wonderful segway for Gretchen to reenter the story. 
Here is where I felt like
THE APOLOGY
The noteworthy turn comes from Cindy’s neighbor Doc Zuess. John Bingham, whose character is reminiscent of Roberts Blossom from Home Alone, is brilliant. His performance legitimizes The Mean One, bringing it out of its Hallmark moments.
The gruesome kills are juxtaposed with a sick soundtrack (and one brilliant oral sex scene), top that off with a particularly shocking choice of violence. When Tori witnesses the act, our killer Santa goes ham on the house. The words, “Oh! That’s fucking nuts,” poured out of my mouth as he breached the threshold. I would be surprised if you didn’t end up saying the same.
Riley Dandy and Sam Delich give spectacular performances. Given writer-director Joe Begos‘ meaty fandom-laced dialogue, they look like they loved every minute. The discussion about horror sequel superiority had me cheering out loud. 
Steve Moore‘s original music is bitchin’. The practical fx are a gift. The pyrotechnic work keeps things merry and bright. The special makeup and Animatronic robot effects from Josh and Sienna Russell are a Christmas miracle. Will everyone compare it to Silent Night Deadly Night meets Terminator? Probably but who cares. CHRISTMAS BLOODY CHRISTMAS is a holiday horror treat. So, spike your eggnog, get as lit as your tree, and rock the hell out of this film.
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