“You’ve got to get out of here by morning.”
— says the ski-masked clad man with a shotgun pointed at you

Nine years ago, actor, writer, and director Chris Levine wasn’t an actor, writer, or director. He was a marketing director for an online company, living large on the beach in Boca Raton, Florida — and one day, woke up unhappy. A set of headshots and a few film school shorts and indie shorts six months later, his wanderlust-infection was complete. Hollywood was calling. (And he didn’t need a ski-masked clad man with a shotgun pointed at him to tell him to get out by morning.) So Levine did the most sensible thing a person could do: move to the town that chews up and squeezes out the tinsel-tainted dreamers on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in steaming piles at two and three at a squeeze.

Only the monster of Hollyweird didn’t count on Chris Levine blowing into town. Look out, Oscarzilla. Monstervine is here to kick your arse.

Teaming with experienced film editor and visual effects artist Landon Williams (in the producer’s and director’s chairs), Levine wrote, produced, and starred in the obsessive tale about a young man’s quest for the perfect body in Anabolic Life (2017), which starred the familiar Daniel Baldwin (TV’s Cold Case Files and Hawaii Five-O) and Sharon Lawrence (Showtime’s Shameless, TNT’s Rizzoli & Isles). The film received five nominations at the 2017 Orlando Film Festival, with Levine walking away with a “Best Actor Award.” (He’s also worked on the award-winning short film, concerned with a traffic stop gone bad, The Ice Cream Stop and is currently starring on the currently-in-production indie-actioner, The Handler.)

Encouraged by the film’s reception, the duo created the Van Nuys-based London Levine Pictures as Chris Levine set out to write and produce his next feature film, the horror-thriller No Way Out (formerly known as Cryptid), which shot in the wilds of Alaska.

Trying to salvage their romantic-personal relationships, two couples go on a weekend camping trip in the Alaska wilds — only to discover that they aren’t alone in the woods they’ve found themselves lost in. And the others don’t know the cabin they’ve squatted sits on land that once belonged to Blake’s (Chris Levine) family. And these woods are the source of his childhood trauma-hang ups about “the woods,” which triggers nightmares in quick succession. Of course, when spoiled city kids vacation in the woods (instead of Hawaii, as one character laments) and squat cabins and a hunter’s unattended campfire, Chris’s tweaks are the least of their worries: they’re just asking for the ol’ Happy Valentine’s Day-chop n’ stab from a masked deep-breather.

No Way Out has a sharp opening credit sequence on par with any A-List film in the horror oeuvres and the soundtrack is effectively creepy when it needs to be, and fairy tale-like when the mood calls. The same holds true for the cinematography (the prologue before-the-credits introduction of our gas-masked friend encourages viewing) that’s crisp and moody. And there’s a welcomed restraint in the editing suite. Oh, the B&S crew can’t tell you how many indies we’ve watch (we’re nice about it) meandering towards a patience-trying two-hour mark (my pet peeve) or lacking in narrative structure and woefully short, with extensive end credits to pad the short running time to a distribution-acceptable 80-minutes (Sam’s pet peeve). Team Levine-Hamilton know that they’re not a proven commodity and that they’re asking a lot for us to purchase a stream — so they keep the narrative down to a tight 78 minutes. Perfect. So kudos to production designer Joe Hamilton, in his directing-producing debut, for giving us a product that’s above the horror-streaming norms.

However, when the Blair Witch POVs started as we first meet the sides of our romantic rectangle, there was a fear that we were venturing into the twisted Myrick-Sánchez-Raimi wood with another found-footage after-the-fact cabin slaughter narrative. (Or a Bigfoot would show up, ugh. More Bigfoot analogies, later). But that’s not a deal breaker, as we enjoyed the not-a-trope POV handheld rollout with the intelligent alien-horror romp Case 347 by Chris Wax and Fabien Delage’s somewhat No Way Out-similar, quality wooden-romp, Cold Ground.

What’s appreciated is that Blake’s (non-found footage) madness-descent isn’t driven by drug abuse or demons or detox-intervention — but by his psychology. And the possibility that his “weird family” is still out there. And that Blake may have serious Sybil-issues compounded by a gas mask fetish. And that there’s really no one out there: only him.

Now, you might yawn and say “we’ve seen this all before,” but you have to cut respectful slack with indie films. Unknown actors trying to develop resumes, frustrated at their lack of castings, need to take matters into their own hands (which we discussed extensively in our review of the radio-dramedy Loqueesha). So, to that end, you can’t go into No Way Out (or any horror streamer) expecting an A24 or Blumhouse shock-scares romp with Tobin Bell or Tony Todd or Lin Shayne buoying the show. Off-the-radar actors, as well as directors, want to create and want to share their skill sets with the world. And you have to shoot ’em cheap. And the woods are a great, non-permit method of storytelling. The Halloween-cum-Friday the 13th slasher ’80s thrived on it. But while No Way Out has an ’80s slasher vibe, it’s shot better and scripted smarter than an ’80s slasher flick. (Case in point: Go back and watch the ’80s Halloween rips Slaughter High and Don’t Go Into the Woods, spotlighted during a recent Drive-In Asylum Saturday Night Double Feature Online Watch Party for evidence of that fact. BTW: Saturday’s at 8 PM on Groovy Doom — shameful plug.)

From the watch parties, and Bigfoots, and shameful plugs departments: During the course of preparing this review for No Way Out, Bill Van Ryn of Groovy Doom and Sam Panico of B&S About Movies hosted another Drive-In Asylum Saturday Night Double Feature Online Watch Party (Sorry, Chris!) and screened Shriek of the Mutilated, Michael and Roberta Findlay’s 1974 shaggy-dog bigfoot version of Agatha Christie’s Ten Little Indians (aka 1939’s And Then There Were None). And (probably to Chris Levine’s chagrin) my analog memory cores critically connected the two.

Does that mean Chris Levine saw Shriek of the Mutilated? No. Personally, I never saw that semi-inept drive-in ditty until the Van Ryn-Panico Borg assimilated me into the Groovy Doom collective. (And I’ve watched an insane amount of movies across the UHF and VHS spectrums. See? You can’t see ‘em all.) So while I’ve critically scribbled a Findlay-Levine throughline in my review notes, there’s no mistaking No Way Out is the winner in the wooded-betrayal sweepstakes.

Sure, Shriek is an over-the-top, emulsion-scratched ‘70s oddity that offers us good ol’ cheesy fun. But No Way Out offers us a digital clarity of intelligence and craft that informs you — and Hollywood — that LevineFoot has arrived. And he’s not a goofy shaggy-dog Bigfoot. Chris Levine is a skilled actor and filmmaker on the way to a sidewalk star in the city of dreams: a dream that will become reality.

The bottom line is that Chris Levine and Joe Hamilton have the skills. And we look forward to their next films. And they’ll be reviewed here, first. And we won’t need a ski-masked clad man with a shotgun to encourage us.

Currently rolling out on the film festival circuit and film markets, you’ll be able to stream No Way Out in the coming months. You can currently stream Anabolic Life via Gravitas Ventures on Amazon Prime, iTunes, Vudu, and You Tube Movies. So look for No Way Out on those platforms as well.

Update: You can now enjoy No Way Out on Amazon Prime through Gravitas Ventures.

You can learn more about Chris Levine’s acting and filmmaking endeavors on Facebook and London Levine Pictures and watch the company’s short film projects on You Tube. And our thanks to Voyage LA for their assistance by introducing us to Chris Levine in the preparation of this review.

Disclaimer: We were provided a screener for the film. That has no bearing on our review.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies and publishes on Medium.

Editor’s Note: We first reviewed this indie horror-comedy during its run as a festival entry. We’re pleased to announce Allen C. Gardner has finalized a worldwide streaming distribution deal with Indie Rights Movies. You can visit their platform on Facebook. You can start streaming Cold Feet as a PPV on September 26, 2021, via IRM’s Amazon Prime page, along with a later, free-with-ads stream to come on IRM’s You Tube portal.

As of 2022, Cold Feet is now appearing on various Smart TV digital platforms — with limited commercials; as of January, The Roku Channel users can watch the film.

You can watch several of Allen’s earlier efforts with easy via in his LinkTree that will direct you the Amazon, Tubi, Vudu, and You Tube streaming platforms.

At a Memphis, Tennessee, rented house (where the film was shot), Eddie (writer, director, actor, producer, editor Allen C. Gardner), a sensible high school English teacher, is having that ubiquitous attack of the ol’ “cold feet” with his impending marriage to Jenny. And you know what that means: first comes love, then comes marriage . . . then mortgages, kids, and, most likely divorce. So it’s time for one last blow out with the guys before Eddie becomes a soccer dad and mini-van pilot, and overall pompatus-prisoner of love. And, with that, his motley crew of best friends rent a home from an affable gent named Oscar (the familiar and welcomed John Speredakos, who got his start with Kevin Smith in Jersey Girl and multiple appearances in the Law & Order franchise; you know me and my L & O fetish!).

Now, Eddie’s a good boy. He loves his to-be wife (well . . .). And that means, to the chagrin of his buddies: no strippers. But a slutty nurse-uniformed Courtney shows up — that none of Eddie’s buddies invited. And guess who’s hooking up (emotionally, natch) with the stripper: Eddie. And Eddie confides to Courtney that, while he loves Jenny, he’s hot for his friend Kim, a fellow teacher.

Uh, Eddie, a piece of advice: never confide in hookers. This isn’t Milk Money or Pretty Woman. You’re a character in Cold Feet, bro. Didn’t you read the screenplay you’re in? There’s no kind-hearted hookers here. . . .

Yep! The mystery-hired Courtney the Nurse texts Kim, steals all of the smart devices and laptops in the house — and stabs herself in the heart. (Da-frack? Okay, Oscar, what’s your game?) And Eddie and the guys can’t call the cops. And when they try to leave the house to go to the police — a sniper fires a warning shot. Then, when they hunker down in the house to avoid the sniper, a pissed off ghost shows up. (Oops, sorry Oscar . . . well, maybe not.)

Yeah, there’s nothing quite like a dead hooker, a sniper, and a ghost to chill one’s debauched heels and test those delusional, “tight” bounds of friendship. For when that ship starts to sink, be prepared to be the only rodent (Or is that red herring?) left on deck.

Cold Feet ended up being a well-written not-sure-where-this-is-going surprise. If Judd Apatow and Sam Raimi got into a room and clashed their propensities for raunch and cabins — and peeled the fishy-oily newspapers off a few of Dario Argento’s red herrings — you’d be inside the cabin environs of this, the seventh writing-directing effort of Allan C. Gardner. (Gardner co-directed with his friend Brad Ellis; their mutual friend Laura Jean Hocking served as editor.) Only not as tasteless-funny as an Apatow flick. And not as bloody-campy as a Raimi flick. We’ve been there and are not “noseblind” to those frames of sun-rotting, scaly aquatic celluloid.

Now, that’s a good thing, because that’s what you expect to happen in Cold Feet, but Gardner’s adept at the Final Draft change-up to give us the unexpected. And in the competitive, stream-clogged world of the VOD environs in the digital ethers, we need the unexpected to assure us those credit card charges for our VOD movie fixes isn’t money flushed down the digital drain. Gardner may or may not have used Apatow, Raimi, and Argento (just my smarmy, critical cortex a-sparkin’) as a jump-off point, but he checked the expiration dates on his influences to give us a Febreze-fresh flick.

Cold Feet was recently nominated for “Best Feature Film” and “Best Writing for a Feature Film” at the 2019 NOLA Horror Film Fest — so if that doesn’t tell you this is a quality film, then nothing will. Old School Pictures and Open Dialogue Productions is currently in the film markets seeking distribution and you can stay abreast of when it will debut on various PPV and VOD platforms via the Cold Feet Facebook page. Until then, you can watch Allen C. Gardner’s other films over on Amazon Prime.

And Allen isn’t a guy who sits around and lets his heels cool. He’s currently in post-production on the comedy/drama Baby, Come Home, and in the pre-production stages on the country music-fueled drama Breaker Breaker (no, there’s no Chuck Norris arse-kicking . . . at least we don’t think there is!), the serial killer thriller (say that three-times fast) Burn It Down, the horror-thriller Sold (vacation-white slavery or a haunted trinket/home?), and the dating app-themed dramedy Data Date Soul Mate. Of course, when those films are completed, you’ll read those reviews first, right here on B&S About Movies, where we not only coddle the obscure and the forgotten films of the VHS, UHF, and Drive-In yesteryears, but we dole out the emoji hugs for unsung, indie films, as well.

And we emoji-love Cold Feet. But not like Quentin Tarantino. That would be, like weird.

Again, as of September 26, 2021, you can stream Cold Feet on Amazon Prime via Indie Rights Movies’ Amazon portal.

Disclaimer: We were provided a screener for the film by October Coast, the film’s P.R firm. That has no bearing on our review.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies and publishes on Medium.

The inspirational goddesses of literature, science, and the arts, a Muse, a female deity who infuses man with the gift of poetry and song, began as a source of myth and legend in Greek culture, then spread to Roman culture. That Greco-Roman concept of supernatural inspiration inspired Irish poet W.B Yeats to expose the modern world to the leannán sídhe, aka “Fairy-Love,” a beautiful, vampiric female who seeks out creative souls, i.e., painters or poets, musicians or writers, to be her lover; in exchange for the artist’s devotion, the muse will bless them with artistic inspiration — as the artist spirals into a love of madness and, eventually, death.

Thrust into this supernatural vortex is the socially-awkward Adam (which returns us to the biblical story of Eve, The Garden, Adam’s first wife, and the first “muse,” if you will: Lilith), an artist with technical talents to spare, but he lacks the heart to transform into an artist of distinction. Desperate for cash (another rent increase on his cavernous studio hovel), he drives his seedy neighbor into the woods to do a drug deal (and scores $300 bucks). It’s there he hears the whispers of and meets an entrancing, silent blonde muse — who’s already killed two men fixing a flat tire near her wooded domain. And now that Adam’s laid his eyes on her, she’s latched onto his soul.

Back at the studio, where the muse now lives, Adam begins to feverishly sketch and paint images of her; his drug-dealing neighbor sees her as a “loose end.” She quickly begins dispatching those who threaten her and come between her and Adam. Even when she’s caked in blood, Adam embraces her — and cleans up after the mayhem. And he soon begins to ensnare others to “feed” her.

In the world of indie film, horror is the most popular of genres among aspiring filmmakers, since the format lends itself to be shot cost-effectively without splashy practical effects (e.g., the works of Eli Roth, such as Hostel), instead relying on light and shadows, and a slow burn of darkness and suspense. Such is this ninth film and second feature film overall (the first was 1999’s The Beast; Legends of the Muse is the first to receive widespread distribution) by director John Burr.

The level of quality of this psychological, atmospheric tale — pushed beyond the limits of beauty by cinematographer Damian Horan — mesmerizes in the same way that Nicolas Roeg brought a level of class and style to the Italian Giallo genre with his 1973 masterpiece, Don’t Look Now. (If you’re familiar with Roeg’s classic editing style employed in that that film during its “sexually graphic” love-making scene between Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland, you’ll understand my comparison of this film to Roeg’s work.)

And it’s not just Burr’s eye and Horan’s lens: all of the film disciplines are at their finest the in frames of Legends of the Muse — but we must single out the performance of Elle Evans (the wife of Matthew Bellamy of, ironically, the band Muse; you may have previously seen her in Scouts Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse). A true standout in the acting department as The Muse, she captivates without a syllable of dialog, employing only facial expressions and body language.

This is a beautiful film and certainly not the last we’ll hear from writer and director John Burr.

Legend of the Muse is currently streaming on Amazon Prime — with other platforms to follow — courtesy of TriCoast Pictures/Rock Salt Releasing. The joint-studios also recently brought us the equally engaging horrors of The Soul Collector and Case 347, along with the Michael Polish-directed drama Nona, the Eric Roberts-starring political potboiler Lone Star Deception, and the return of Alex Cox to U.S. cinemas with Tombstone Rashomon.

Update 2022: In addition to making its debut as a free-with-ads stream on Tubi, you can watch Legend of the Muse on several Smart TV On Demand streaming-with-ads platforms.

Here’s the rest of the great films released under the Rock Salt Releasing/TriCoast Worldwide co-banner we’ve reviewed:

Agatha Christine: Spy Next Door
Blood Hunters: Rise of the Hybrids
Bombshells and Dollies
Dollhouse
It All Begins with a Song
My Hindu Friend
Revival

Disclaimer: We were provided a screener by the film’s P.R firm. That has no bearing on our review.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies and publishes on Medium.

“Surely God would not have created such a being as man, with an ability to grasp the infinite, to exist only for a day! No, no, man was made for immortality.”
— Abraham Lincoln
16th President of the United States

As we’ve said — many times — in our reviews of new films in the streaming realms: casting is what makes us hit the big red streaming button. And Immortal, from the competent co-writing and directing teams of Tom Colley and Jon Dabach, and Danny Isaacs and Rob Marqolies, is no exception.

Regardless of how big or small the part of the superfluous-or-pivotal Eric Roberts-kind (the recently reviewed The Evil Inside Her), all we need to know is that we’re getting a dose of the actors we care about: Tony Todd (of Candyman fame), the great Dylan Baker (excellent in the recently reviewed Nightfire), and Mario Van Peebles (nailing it in the recently reviewed A Clear Shot). That acting trio-de jour is in support of a cast that features a grown up Neal Schweiber from Freaks and Geeks (Samm Levine, a solid actor in Eric Roberts-mode with an already 120-credit strong resume) and Vanessa Lengies (Sugar Motta from TV’s Glee), along with Agnes Bruckner (effectively transformed herself into Kris Kardashian in The Murder of Nicole Brown Simpson) and she’s-everywhere actress Robin Bartlett (gal-pal Debbie Buchman on TV’s Mad About You, along with effective support roles in Shutter Island and Lean on Me).

Immortal gets right into the what-the-hell-where-is-this-going story in fewer than 15 minutes: We have a quote about man’s immortality by Abraham Lincoln. We have slutty school girls heading to class in strappy-spiked heels (only happens in “movie” high schools, natch), creepy-lech track coaches, dorky, kindly-lech teachers clad in short-sleeve plaid shirts, and a blonde track star’s kidnapping-by-poisoned dart.

So what in the hell does a zip-tied girl with a sack over her head have to do with the 16th president of the United States? Oh, no. . . . Not another undisclosed killer via camouflage and combat boots. . . .

“Jinkies!” Shaggy! It’s the kindly, self-professed “normal old guy” Dylan Baker citing Lord of the Flies as his reasoning for kidnapping high school girls. And what’s ol’ Mr. Shagis’s kink: he likes to hunt people in the cellphone-dead, deep neck of the booby-trapped woods that he refers to as “The Labyrinth.”

Okay, so what’s all this have to do with President Lincoln and immortality? Turns out the tweaked literary and history buff Mr. Shagis has discovered the secrets of immortality—so we think. And instead of sharing his secret with the world, lo’ Shags has decided to shed all of his inhibitions and indulge in his dark desires. . . .

And what we think is going to be another low-budget retread of The Hunt (aka American Hunt) with Dylan Baker’s character kidnapping and hunting people as a deranged savior of the wayward, well, you’d be wrong (although, you can’t get enough Dylan Baker, so we’d stream that film). What we have here is a modernized, anthology throwback to the twisty Amicus films of old as unscrupulous people face brutal deaths—and are revived as a form of punishment from an unseen-beyond force. This is a world where the one you think is evil, is not . . . and the “pure in heart,” is evil.

Kudos to teams Colley-Dabach and Isaacs-Marqolies scoring their named-cast of actors; for if this low-budgeter had gone with an unknown cast-for-cost, we would have ended up with just another run-of-the-mill horror-streamer with a cast of dedicated-but-strained performances buoyed by Roberts-styled walk-on-the-box credits to inspire us stream the movie. However, the cast-mix of solid commodities, character actor undercards, and unknowns is effective—with Baker and Todd owning (but, of course) their ulterior-motive driven characters.

The only caveat is that regardless of Tony Todd’s voice-over driving the trailer, he is not a Candyman-styled protagonist in a wraparound story jelling the tales as he deals out the supernatural comeuppance Peter Cushing-style. But that’s a good thing, because that’s what we were expecting. And in today’s world of so many accessible movies—especially in a COVID lockdown—we need the unexpected in our movies to keep our minds sharp.

All in all, Immortal is a smart, insightful (drama, not horror) script by Jon Dabach with nicely-done anthology segments buoyed by solid cinematography from Tom Colley, who has worked on a bevy of reality TV series and streaming series. So the skill set is there. And you’ll do alright by hitting the big red streaming button.

MOVIE SIGN! Siskel and Ebert in the house!

Doh! Every now and then, Sam and I, through scheduling snafus and our giddy, celluloid drunkenness over our recent “Rock ‘n’ Roll” and “Fast and Furious” Weeks, and our upcoming “Wolfman,” “Dracula,” and “Rock ‘n’ Roll II” Weeks . . . plus our annual November tribute to another Mill Creek 50-films box set (this year: Sci-Fi Invasion), we sometimes review the same, new indie release — twice (Doh, again! Check out our unplanned, B&S-cum-S&E review of Dollhouse).

And just to be clear: I’m the “Siskel” and Sam is the “Ebert.” Yeah, that aisle seat ain’t big enough for the both of us. And, Samuel, no more cracks about me being “Gypsy” and you and Bill Van Ryn are Tom Servo and Crow. That’s not cool — even if you are the Chief Cook and Bottlewasher of B&S and I am just the dumpster pad and grease pit scrubber ’round ‘ere.

Sam’s Take:

Written, directed and produced by Rob Margolies (although IMDB lists three other directors and a different writer), this anthology follows the lives of several people who suddenly discover that they can’t die.

Chelsea (Lindsay Mushett, Blue Bloods) is a high school track star who confesses abuse by a teacher too late. Gary and Vanessa (Agnes Bruckner, who was Kris Jenner in The Murder of Nicole Brown Simpson and Anna Nicole in the 2013 Anna Nicole cable film) are a couple who figure that death can solve their money woes. Ted (Tony Todd!) has to deal with euthanizing his wife Mary. Warren (Freaks and Geeks) discovers new gifts after he dies. And hey — is that Mario Van Peebles I see? It is!

This is an interesting way to approach an anthology film. It’s more drama than horror, but you still may discover something interesting in it.

Currently rolling out on the festival circuit, Immortal will premiere as a DVD and VOD in September via Stonecutter Films and Different Duck Films through Wild Eye Releasing.

Disclaimer: We were provided a screener by the film’s P.R firm. That has no bearing on our review.

About the Authors: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies. Sam Panico is the curator of B&S About Movies.