“Uh, Mr. and Mrs. Yates? How do you like your hedges trimmed?”
“I don’t know. Darling, do you like your bush, square or round?”
—Mr. Yates multitasking ‘breakfast sex’ and getting rid of Daryl the groundkeeper

For most people residing in the wilds of Arizona (Pinnacle Peak outside of Phoenix/Mesa), when a mountain lion wakes them from a poolside nap . . . well, I know what “function” my body would do. Then there’s Phillip Penza. The beastly encounter inspired him to make a movie: he started to think about the “safety” of the pool; that jumping in the water—if the lion had charged, instead of running off—would have saved his life.

Now, as we’ve said many times before at B&S About Movies: when it comes to the low-budget films that cross our transom, it’s all about the cast that makes us hit that big red streaming button. And in this case, it wasn’t the ubiquitous Eric Roberts—it was Lorenzo Lamas, aka Reno Raines from our beloved 1992 to 1997 syndicated series Renegade (I never missed it!). Lamas currently resides in Arizona and previous worked on Penza’s debut film, My Name is Nobody (2014), along with the just-released (to Amazon Prime) vampire romp, Real Blood: The True Beginning. (Penza’s other films are 2016’s Movie Madness, and 2019’s Fire and Rain.)

We won’t sugar coat: the IMDb and Amazon streamingverse hasn’t been kind to Penza’s third (out of five) film. But again, like we always say here at B&S About Movies: you have to cut generous slack for the filmmakers and actors in the indieverse and view their films through a less judgmental set of eyes. Acting faux pas are par for the course. There’s going to be directorial, cinematography, and editorial stumbles. But there’s bad acting and filmmaking: then there’s filmmakers that are trying. And in the case of Phillip Penza and his crew and cast of unknown, Phoenix-based filmmakers, they’re pleasantly gallant in their efforts.

And Penza certainly knows his way around a script (the well-written line, noted above, spoken by Mr. Yates, himself a successful screenwriter, brought on a laugh-out loud moment). At first, it looks as if we have ourselves a low-budget desert noir of the old ‘90s USA Network variety (back when that channel produced original content before becoming an aftermarket shill for NBC-TV series), with the Yates—the home’s new residents—suffering a violent, home-invasions fate brought on by the home’s previous residents.

Then it veers off course.

When we meet Frank (Lorenzo Lamas), a well-off psychiatrist (They’re always more “defective” than their patients, aren’t they?) with a private, home-based practice inside his desert-mansion spread, he’s in the midst of a poolside tryst with his wife’s best friend—who’s returned early from a business trip. The ensuing knife fight results in Frank drowning his wife—and his lover urging him to “chop up the body and burn her in the outdoor fire pit.”

Yeah, Frankie knows how to pick ‘em. Good Headshinker. Good judge of character.

And Frank—who’s always in it for the nookie—does the deed. And guess who gets the next whack of the ax? Eh, you know how it is when your “disappeared” wife’s $11 million life insurance policy pays off—thanks to your buddy in the police department closing the case: there’s no sharesies for the side action in your life. Ah, but ol’ Frankie made one fatal mistake: he dumped his wife’s ashes in the pool. And she’s pissed off, rightfully so. Yep. This film noir just went supernatural on your ass with “killer water” spilling out of faucets and showers, less-than-forthcoming real estate agents, flickering lights, creaking chairs, missing Santeria priests, J-Horror Yūrei’s disappearing down sink drains, kids walking on water and talkin’ to disembodied playground swings—and one bitch-ass of a backyard pool (that dispatched Frank’s latest secretary-squeeze).

There’s been a lot of aquatic horror movies (we burned through some of that water-resume with our review of 2020’s Underwater); however, for the life of me, I can’t recall any films with “killer water” flowing through a home’s plumbing system. So, to that end: Phillip Penza certainly impressed me with a unique twist to the haunted house genre (which, again, I thought I was getting a neo-noir)—a house lost somewhere between Wes Craven’s “electrified spirit” serial killer romp, Shocker (1989) and the Bruce Dern-starring The Incredible Two-Headed Transplant (1971).

That latter film is recalled courtesy of Big Brody’s effective turn as Daryl Brown (also reminding of the late Michael Clarke Duncan of The Green Mile), the desert abode’s low intelligence-gentle giant that reminds of John Bloom’s heartfelt turn as Danny Norton in that early-70s AIP drive-in classic. But those are more than likely coincidental—and not direct, inspirational similarities—pulled from my personal, analog-film snob cortexes. But what we do get with Water is decent I-didn’t-think-this-was-going-this-way plot twists and a couple of eye-widening, noirish character-defective moments paired with atmospheric cinematography and genuinely creepy special effects.

In the end, the indie spirit of Phoenix, Arizona, is in Phillip Penza’s capable hands. So take a dip in his supernatural neo-noir, will ya? The water’s fine (sorry).

While you can watch Water ad-free on Amazon Prime for a very affordable price, it recently made its debut as a free-with-ads stream on TubiTv. You can learn more about Phillip Penza’s works at the official website and Facebook page of Little Book Films. Penza also discusses the making and release of Water in a radio interview posted on You Tube.

Oh, and speaking of Eric Roberts (The Arrangement and Lone Star Deception): there he is, again! The master thespian co-stars in Phillip Penza’s webseries Scrutiny, now streaming on Amazon Prime Video and Vimeo on Demand.

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.

Disclaimer: We were not provided a screener nor received a review request from the filmmakers or their P.R firm. We discovered this film on our own and genuinely enjoyed movie.

If you haven’t noticed: I write a lot of reviews about films at B&S About Movies. And when I am not writing about movies, I’m talking about films—both in the fingering-digital and lipping-physical realms. There nothing quite like hanging out during a Groovy Doom Saturday Night Double Feature Watch Party (Ugh, more shameful plugs!) and chatting with the digital patrons or at a sports bar with your fellow actors and filmmakers, discuss-debating films and examining the industry (sorely missed during these COVID days)—while the Steelers dominate the gridiron, and the Pirates, the diamond.

One of those discussions was in regards to attending movie theatres vs. streaming and, to that end, which streaming service: Hulu or Netflix. The general consensus: Hulu is the cut-out bargain bin of streamers; they’re the $5.00 impulse-buy barrel on the aisle sandwiched between the home goods and electronics section. Netflix is where people actually log-on to see a film. Yep. It’s the old My Space vs. Facebook and Facebook vs. Snapchat argument, again. Ugh!

And my buddy, Eric; he who despises all thing Seinfeldian (Oops, sorry Sam!) and minces no words when expressing his disdain for failures in the artistic realms, added this observation: “Why the frack is friggin’ Sarah Paulson always friggin’ ranting, bawling, and running around like madwoman in every movie?”

Eric’s also never heard of writer-director Aneesh Chaganty. But I have. And I really enjoyed his previous film, Searching. Chaganty’s adept at the Final Draft and framing the Canon Reds; therefore, I have no doubt that, with his skills as a filmmaker, in conjunction with the always-very-good Paulson as his lead actress (12 Years a Slave, TV’s Law & Order), I had a feeling Run was another worthy streamer on his behalf—regardless of the opinion that “Hulu is the dumping ground for projects studios have no faith in.”

Ah, but the studios do.

Lionsgate had Chaganty’s sophomore effort penciled for a national theatrical release three months ago, back on May 8. Then the pandemic hit and shut down the big theatre chains in March. And while the theatre chain operators are none too happy, the major studios are thankful that we’re living in the digital clouds of 2020; if the COVID virus hit in the Soylent Green-year of 1975, when there was no streaming . . . perish the thought. So, for reasons that aren’t of our middling consumer concerns: Lionsgate cut a deal—instead with Netflix—to stream on Hulu. In fact, another of Lionsgate’s films, the Janelle Monae-horror Antebellum, had its theatrical rollout axed for a September 18 digital premiere.

Even without a pandemic, the fact remains: the brick-and-mortar theatreverse is in a competitive battle—first with cable television, then with PPV, and now with streaming services. Today, theatre chains are all about tentpole-films and summer blockbusters. Those ‘90s-halcyon days of driving to an outside-of-the-big-city six-plex with a screen or two dedicated to a Miramax or Fox Searchlight release (starring Steve Buscemi and Crispin Glover!) are over. Low-to-mid budget movies from mini-majors in the big-city plexs—like Lionsgate, with films like Run and Antebellum—are over. The new, congealing distribution model seems to be forgoing traditional theatrical releases and issuing indie-flicks straight into the home digital markets. In a 28-plex behemoth marketplace, how will audiences find these smaller genre films, like The App from Elisa Fursas and Jason Lester’s High Resolution?

Hello, streaming service.

So, what are we babbling about here? As his previous movie Searching proves: Aneesh Chaganty is a solid filmmaker. And as someone who streams more than his fair share of indie streamers—especially in the horror genre—I’m grateful that he’s giving us a film that’s of a quality that’s head and shoulders above steaming norms. For me, it’s not the service that delivers the film: it’s the film itself. So the mindset here is to cut Aneesh Chaganty some slack and not predisposition his sophomore effort as “awful” just because the backing studio made a deal with one streaming service over the other.

Are we now maligning films over the streaming platform that distributes the movie? Is that what all of this COVID news-cycling has done to us?

Aneesh Chaganty has taken an already terrifying, destructive mental illness, one that also manifests itself as a multi-physical illness in another—Munchausen by Proxy—and turned the admittedly tired stalking genre (deluded by Lifetime’s endless stream of psycho-antagonists vs. damsel-in-distress flicks) upside down.

Diane (Sarah Paulson) is a mother whose love runs deep—deep enough that’s she put her daughter Chloe (Kiera Allen) into a wheelchair. And because of the bullying and discrimination that accompanies a handicap; Diane holds her daughter in a home school isolation that’s slowly built since Chloe’s birth. Diane’s method of control: she medicates her daughter into a mystery- debilitating illness that results in a perpetual round of surgeries and more medications. Now a teenager, Chloe beings to suspect her mother’s love isn’t one of compassion, and not one of a mental illness out of her mother’s control, but one of a sinister, ulterior motive that has nothing to do with love.

You can keep up to date on the release rollout of Run and the ever-expanding library on Hulu at their website or Twitter and Facebook pages. You can also get more info at Lionsgate.com.

UPDATE: Hulu set a premiere date for November 20, 2020.

Disclaimer: We weren’t provided with a screener nor received a review request from 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.

“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.

We’ve all seen our share of female-centric survival thrillers, but this feature film debut by TV and film location managers Philip S. Plowden and Devon Colwell (Chicago P.D. and Jupiter Ascending), working as co-writers and directors, don’t allow their story to degrade into (the usual) supernatural subplots; they instead chose to focus on drama and character development over the usual ultra-violence we are normally subjected to in the female-survival genre.

Actress Celeste M. Cooper—who met the writing-directing duo as a recurring background actor on the set of Chicago P.D.—is Mel, a tough-as-nails long-distance runner taught by her father to endure pain and exist outside of her body’s physical limits. While setting a goal for herself to conquer an infamous 2,000-mile hiking trail, she puts the lessons of her father (coaching her via flashbacks) to the test when two desperate men (Sean Patrick Leonard and Michael B. Woods; both Chicago P.D. and Chicago Med acting alum) descend her into a life of terror.

The day and night outdoor photography on this by Darryl Miller (Chicago P.D., natch) is crisp and sharp; in conjunction with its tight script and pacing from Plowden and Colwell, Range Runners rises above the usual VOD streaming and Lifetime damsel-of-the-weekend product. The acting in this is superb and assures we will see more from Cooper, Leonard, and Woods on the small and big screen.

You can learn more about Range Runners through the website of Fatal Funnel Films and look for it on DVD and VOD beginning September 8.

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.

“Well, that sucks for you, because you’ve only got half a soul left.”
“I only had half a soul to begin with.”
— Melvin and Richard, finally finding common ground

Richard (Bill Oberst, Jr., the “Eric Roberts” of horror, with 40-plus films in various states of pre-and-post-production; his most recently reviewed films are 3 From Hell and Devil’s Junction: Handy Dandy’s Revenge) is a low-level gangster in the midst of retiring from his life of crime. But before his bosses will let him out, he has to pull one final job: steal money from a rival gangster’s house. While Richard usually pulls jobs exclusively with his daughter Mouse (Mary Katherine O’Donnell; of the most recent Puppet Master romp The Littlest Reich), he’s forced to include the psycho-incestuous murder Percy (horror icon Kane Holder) on the crew.

Yeah, this isn’t going to end well. And we haven’t got to the demons.

The other victims of the “Devils” are Melvin (new-to-the-screen David Rucker III), his wife Louise (horror icon Linnea Quigley), and his 40-year-old stepdaughter Caroline (up-and-coming indie actress Kelley Wilson Robinson; who produces). Together, they curate the Museum of the Macabre—and the makeshift basement gallery’s newest acquisition is the alleged, infamous remains of the vampire Masquerade (the up-and-coming Veronika Stoykova; doing a great job under the make-up). And when those remains reanimate, Richard and Melvin join forces to protect their families in a Rodriquez-Tarantino showdown of the From Dust Till Dawn variety—only with a 1/2 cup of Raimiesque cabin humor spinning on the reel-to-reel.

What makes this all work is that—at first—you’re not quite sure which road of bad intentions this ol’ ’73 Oldsmobile Delta 88 is traveling. When we first meet the Cliff Huxtable-nerdom of Melvin (complete with a festive, pullover jack-o-lantern sweater-vest; yet, unlike Hux: he’s verbally abusive to his mousy wife and her kindly-ditzy daugthter), he’s holding high court with a group of Halloween-salivating neighborhood kids—who affectionately nicknamed him “Mr. G.”—weaving a tale about Masquerade as the kiddies anticipate his yearly Halloween display. Okay, so were heading down the orange-and-yellow candy corn road with Roy Ward Baker’s The Monster Club (1981) and Fred Dekker’s The Monster Squad (1987), which is fine with us VHS-lovin’ movie folk freaks out in the wilds of Allegheny: we love our Ward Baker and Dekker flicks ’round ‘ere.

Then Kane Holder (who’s excellently unnerving) blows away a bound-and-gagged mother and daughter with a shotgun. For reals. From Jason Voorhees to Billy Cosby on the drop of a dime. Then things go a bit “Kevin S. Tenney” as we think we’re getting a comedy-horror mix ala Night of the Demons (1988). But the vampire-demon possession follies have a graphic, Raimiesque vibe, even a Lamberto Bava Demons (1985) swagger.

What balances this trapped-in-the-house/cabin/movie theatre-and-we-can’t-out demon soiree is the light-on-his-thespin’ feet David Rucker III as Melvin. As the “Bruce Campbell” of this party, he expertly foils Bill Oberst, Jr.’s serious, leather-jacketed “George Clooney” (aka Seth Gecko) to add a much needed “you’ve got to be f’ing kidding me” vibe to slaughter. When you have a Raimiesque demon-witch ripping out a little trick or treater’s throat and possessing another—and you’re not a fan of kids-in-distress or dying on-camera (me)—you need a David Rucker III on the call sheets.

There’s been some great indie-horrors coming out of the Carolinas of late—South Carolina screenwriter and director Tommy Faircloth’s recently reviewed A Nun’s Curse comes to immediate mind—and The Good Things Devils Do (a catchy title that encourages rental) is a nice addition to those states’ burgeoning film resumes. You’ve got a familiar cast of horror greats hitting all of their marks (even though we lose them—graphically—half way though), buoyed by solid cinematography capturing a steady stream of action n’ violence as the bodies pile up. This is way above grade of the usual horror streamers.

The Good Things Devils Do, the feature film debut by North Carolina writer-director Jess Norvisgaard (a commercial camera operator who’s worked on the popular reality TV series The Biggest Loser and L.A. Ink, as well as FoxSports) is out now as a DVD/Blu and streaming on You Tube courtesy of Gravitas Ventures (we’ve recently reviewed their Eric Roberts-starrer, The Arrangement). You can learn more about the film on its official Facebook page.

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.