My Thoughts on Midsommar

Hereditary was an interesting film. The smash horror of last summer, it was such an unbelievably ambitious debut, that like I said in my review at the time, is largely pretty good despite some issues. I suppose one surprise is how soon Ari Aster is following it up, with just over a year between Hereditary and Midsommar. Such a small gap could be a bad thing. Maybe he's rushing himself, not giving himself enough time to properly learn or grow. Actually watching Midsommar makes me realise that that's probably not the case, because not only do I think it's better than Hereditary by some way, but I also think that this is the film that establishes something that his first film only suggested: Ari Aster is the real deal. Midsommar is an incredibly disturbing film, and while I'm not going to go into any specific details (for spoiler reasons and content reasons), I'd still advise some reader discretion, because this film contains some seriously difficult subject matter. I'll try to be vague, but just in case, you have been warned

Midsommar follows Florence Pugh's Dani, a young woman whose life is drastically, horrifying altered by a gut wrenching tragedy. The film's first fifteen minutes are it's best sequence, excellently made, quietly devastating and ridiculously efficient in how it tells its story. This sets up the absolute madness that follows, and does so beautifully. Dani's boyfriend Christian invites her on a trip to Sweden with his friends to attend a midsummer festival. As you can imagine, this goes south very, very quickly. The film is slow, hypnotic and almost ethereal. Most of it takes place in daylight, which makes everything that goes down doubly eerie. Aster really takes his time getting into the horror, which makes Dani's trauma really feel like it resonates. It's a dreamy drift into madness, and its greatest strength is how it holds everything back for most of its run. The explicit details (and they are very explicit) are only really revealed near the end, but it's that constant feeling of unease that makes this film so effective. It's not that nothing is happening, it's that the horror takes its time to arrive, and when it does, you'd better strap yourself in. That feeling of anticipating something disturbing is one that's at the heart of this film, and something that I definitely had watching it.

I've seen some comparisons to The Wicker Man, and though that's definitely understandable, I actually saw more similarities between this and Don't Look Now. Both films feature protagonists traveling abroad following a tragedy, only to discover unimaginable horror. Oh yeah, and both films contain unspeakably graphic sex scenes. I'm not going to call it "Don't Look Now for the modern age" or anything silly like that, but I do think that Nicolas Roeg's film is a helpful point of reference for this one, as it deals with some pretty similar themes and ideas.

I know I said this earlier, but it really can't be overstated how disturbing this film is. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but the film is such an unpleasant experience, not just because of the content, but also the length and pacing. This is not a short movie, and the slow, deliberate way that Aster unfolds the story makes it a really tough film to sit through. Much as I really enjoyed it (enjoyed might be the wrong word here), I doubt I'll watch it again, because the sense of dread is so overwhelming and oppressive, and the things that happen are so extreme. Credit to Ari Aster, he created one seriously powerful horror experience.

Midsommar is one crazy trip. It's deeply unpleasant watch that I'm not sure I can exactly recommend, but as a pure work if horror, it's one of the strongest in recent memory. Beginning with tragedy and ending with.... flowers and bears, it's a pure descent into colourful hell, and it's awesome to see Ari Aster finally finding his groove. He feels so confident behind the camera, keeping everything controlled to just the right level, while also giving the film room to be woozy and dreamlike. He unleashes chaos gradually, like a pastel explosion in slow motion, and that's definitely the film's strongest attribute. It takes its time in revealing its mysteries, but when it does, boy is it spectacular, and deeply messed up. The performances are phenomenal, especially Florence Pugh, who portrays the bone deep trauma of her character excellently. Jack Reynor continues his impressive winning streak as a character who's honestly kind of an asshole, which he actually plays quite well. Will Poulter gives good douchebag, doing something that ultimately results in one of the film's more horrifying scenes (careful around the ancestral tree). These are the standouts, but the whole cast are impressive here. Midsommar is a really strong piece of work, and it really convinces me that Ari Aster is a great horror storyteller, something that Hereditary didn't exactly do. This is a carefully curated voyage into sun soaked doom. Watch it, but do so at your own risk.

My Thoughts on Murder Mystery

Adam Sandler is a bit like moss. Nobody really likes him, but somehow, he's still around, no matter how much you try to get rid of him. Weird thing is, I actually really like Adam Sandler. Maybe his filmography is pretty poor (although Punch Drunk Love is genuinely masterful and I urge you to see it if you haven't already), but he actually seems like a really nice guy. Shame Murder Mystery doesn't do much to get him out of the slump he's been in for the last two decades. This is a pretty lazy film, a paint-by-numbers comedy whodunit that doesn't have much to do or say, instead kind of limping its way through some pretty generic story beats. It follows Sandler and Jennifer Aniston's married couple, who live a pretty dull life, until a holiday in Europe leads them onto Luke Evans' yacht, which becomes the scene of a grizzly murder, leading our heroes to try to figure out just who did it

The performances are all pretty one note here. Sandler isn't great, but he's definitely better than he's been before, so thank god for small blessings. Aniston doesn't even feel like she's acting, just kind of on autopilot for the whole thing while getting the occasionally funny quip. I guess her character is into crime novels, but it's only mentioned a few times, but good try at giving her character traits I guess? The other characters are kind of a cartoony gallery of potential killers, none of them particularly memorable, but none of them notably bad. They're all kind of entertaining actually, not well developed but still mildly fun. The reveal of who did it isn't especially obvious, but maybe that's because I didn't really care enough to notice any foreshadowing. Still, it's kind of a surprise when it happens, but again, that could be from a lack of plot development.

The jokes are kind of flaccid. I didn't laugh.... at all. Granted, I didn't groan at anything either. The jokes are incredibly unfunny, but they aren't painful or anything. There's nothing overly crass or annoyingly low brow. They're just kind of there, not offensively bad but not actually funny, which creates a weird void where you know the laughs should be. The very French detective was kind of fun, but apart from that, nothing is zany or sharp enough to get much of a laugh. The catch with the merciful unfunniness is that, because there aren't many actual jokes, the film is just kind of boring. I'm thankful that it's not as crude or annoying as some of Adam Sandler's other offerings, but it's still so dull. Game Night did a similar idea much, much better, with better writing, better characters and actually funny jokes. Watch that instead.

I suppose the best things about Murder Mystery are the things that it doesn't do. There's no hackneyed emotional moment. I mean, there kind of is with this plot point about Adam Sandler lying about being s detective, but the film never stops to deliver some really forced emotional scene, instead just kind of addressing it a few times and then just moving on, so it kind of avoids the trap that far too many shitty modern comedies fall into. It's also mercifully short and pretty fast paced. Those 97 minutes are kind of boring, but the fact that it never overstays its welcome is pretty good, and it moves along at an enjoyably swift pace. The jokes stay away from being offensively bad, which they easily could have strayed into, which is another small mercy in a film of plenty

Murder Mystery is generic, bland, and fairly boring. It's plot is far from original, but a lack of laughs and a tendency to play things by numbers means that it's not even really a parody. It doesn't even really have fun with itself, instead just kind of happening. Is it bad? Yeah, but it really isn't the worst. It's a decent diversion but not much else, semi-enjoyable in the moment but it doesn't linger at all. It's a pretty flat film, one that never tries to be more than it is, instead just kind of settling for its own flatness. It's not great, but it could have been worse, so ultimately, it's just kind of meh

Reservoir Dogs: The Perfect Debut

Quentin Tarantino is one of the most beloved filmmakers working today, and I just love the guy, and I'm so excited for Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. So much so, that I want to talk about my favourite Tarantino film, which, incidentally, is his first one, Reservoir Dogs. When I did my top 12 movies of all time, I had a shedload of honourable mentions, and this was definitely one of them. This is how you debut. Tarantino exploded into the screen with this, a white hot, audacious film that even 27 years later, still packs one of cinema's strongest punches. Time has been (mostly) kind to Tarantino's debut, which is as explosively cool now as it was in 1992

Reservoir Dogs follows a group of thieves carrying out a diamond heist, which goes wrong when one of them rats them out to the police. Injured and bloodied, the gang need to find out who sold them out, fast. It's clear from the opening minutes that Tarantino means business, with a conversation loaded with his trademark razor sharp dialogue ("let me tell you what Like a Virgin is all about...."), which then leads to one of the most iconic opening credits scenes ever, that awesome slow motion walk set to Little Green Bag. From there, the film is a tightly constructed, snappily paced story, brilliantly told

Where the hell do I even begin with how much I love this film? Almost everything about it is great. I guess I could start with the cast. A stoic Harvey Keitel, a nervy Steve Buscemi, a psychotic Micheal Madsen and a bloodied Tim Roth  are the highlights, but everyone is pretty much perfect in this film. It's almost like a play, driven almost purely on the strength of these performances. Because of this, Reservoir Dogs is like pulpy, ultraviolent theatre, with each of these guys different as their performances are, each of them brings that kind of hard-boiled cool that would come to become a trademark of Tarantino's. The film's full of these future staples actually, such as.....

THE FREAKING SOUNDTRACK. K Billy's Super Sounds of the 70s is almost like another character in this film, and every time music plays, it's telling a part of the story without using words. Obviously there's the notorious Stuck in the Middle With You torture scene which works because it uses the most upbeat pop song to score the goriest and most distressing scene in the film, but every other track does a similar thing. Look at how Little Green Bag plays over the dogs going to execute the heist, or how Hooked on a Feeling scores the rat trying to win the trust of the gang in a flashback. Soundtracks are everything in cinema, and a great one can work as an effective storytelling tool. And this one is perfect, filling in parts of the narrative with a carefully curated playlist of 70s songs that also works as a radio show that plays over the course of the weekend, which strengthens the film's structure and gives it a definite sense of time. And on top of all of that, it's the kind of killer soundtrack that we've come to associate Tarantino with, the kind that sets a definite tone, gives us a better feel of the characters, is an effective narrative tool in itself, and is just incredibly cool to listen to. In the blistering heat of the heist's disastrous aftermath, the soundtrack provides some ice cube cool refuge, giving us a distinct mood and feel that would come to define Tarantino and his style

The way the plot plays out is simple, but so incredibly effective. The reveal of who the rat actually is is such a wonderful twist, one that Tarantino masks with not just the chaotic haze of violent panic, but also just by putting in plain sight. I won't say who it is in case you've somehow yet to see it, but I think it's one of QT's most devilishly clever narrative tricks. From the beginning, Reservoir Dogs is nervy and paranoid. We get a decent idea of who these characters are, but not well enough so that when the chaos begins, we suspect them all. As far as we know, they all did it, and they're also all innocent. Because after all, in a situation like this, can you actually trust anybody? Tarantino keeps us firmly rooted in this violent panic, never giving us the clarity or time to get our bearings and figure out the truth. His showman like grip over the story is what makes this movie work, distracting us with flash and panache that allows him to get a fairly obvious reveal right past us. Not that the tricks he uses to distract us are purely for show, because they essentially work as his calling card, a powerful showcase of who this fresh faced filmmaker is, while also masking a narrative punch that comes to prove that this guy isn't all talk

And yeah, he's not all talk, but Jesus that's some dialogue. Tarantino is known as a master screenwriter, one who can make every word of dialogue count, often with a razor sharp double meaning. The lines are sharp, snappy and drenched in panic and dread. The pop culture references are liberal, but not hollow. They tie Reservoir Dogs into the larger canon of media, while also mirroring how people can use the films they watch and music they listen to to connect with each other, insult each other and, crucially, communicate with each other. The script is actually almost perfect, with the occasional line not aging the best, but generally being one of his best, one that conveys the imminent danger in the story while also maintaining a facade of cool composure. Add to that Tarantino's confidence behind the camera, where his grip on everything you're seeing is vice-grip tight, and you've got a debut that's assured, exact, and deeply effective

Reservoir Dogs is the perfect debut. It introduces the world to Tarantino in such a fantastic way, by giving us everything he'd come to adopt and meld into his own unique style. Yeah, the influences are clear (70s crime movies in particular, especially The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3), but like he'd show us time and time again, pop culture is just clay that he can bend into his own specific shape, using the things we recognise as ingredients to make something that's undoubtedly his. This panicky tale of diamond thieves is one of cinema's most breathlessly thrilling, but it also contains the verve and energy that Tarantino is somehow able to hold onto all these years later. He sets the temperature here, ensuring that it's absolutely white hot, and then is somehow able to (more or less) keep the heat at that intensity for his whole career so far. That in itself is an impressive feat, but the fact that this is the film that birthed Tarantino as we know him now is what makes it such a stellar first outing

My Thoughts on The Dead Don't Die

The Dead Don't Die has one cracking premise. A wry zom-com with a cracking cast that includes all of the hottest names in indie cinema right now? Count. Me. In. It played in competition at Cannes? Awesome! And then the reviews came out.... and they were less than great. I stayed optimistic though, and finally watching The Dead Don't Die, I have to say, I'm incredibly disappointed. I mean, this is just a huge let down, especially when it didn't have to be. The film is set in Centerville, "A Real Nice Place". Weird things are happening in nature, with the sun going down at strange times, animals acting weird, and the dead rising from the grave in search of the things that gave their lives meaning.

The problem is in the execution. I know it's Jim Jarmusch's style, but the cynical, ironic sarcasm just feels like the wrong approach. The humour is joyless and sardonic, and the frequent fourth wall breaking is just so grating. Characters talk about the film's (pretty cracking) theme song, ask each other if they're improvising, and in a totally misjudged moment, talk about how much of the script they read beforehand. And then there's the satire, which is so dull and obvious. Apart from the teeth grindingly blatant contemporary jabs (one character wears a "Keep America White Again" cap), there's the unbelievably tired criticism of consumerism, which is pretty much Romero's Dawn of the Dead with a hipster makeover. Apart from being incredibly derivative, it's also boring, with absolutely nothing new to say. The film is so focused on this satire, to the point where it becomes such a glum, cynical slog.

The movie really takes its time building up its zombie action, only for their arrival to be treated with absolute indifference. None of the characters are even remotely interested in what's going in, and spend most of the film just sitting around talking. Yeah, that's Jarmusch's thing, but it was just not the right approach here, because instead of working up to a climax that feels impressive or impactful, it fizzles out in a frustrating display of indifference, as if the film itself is just shrugging and saying "whatever". I'm not asking for full on action or anything, but it'd be nice to have something of substance happening, because by the end, it just feels like such a waste of time, that abandons effective horror or clever satire for self satisfied post-modernism that's almost proud to be cynical. The film basks in its own self awareness and is in awe of its own ironic humour.

Not to say that's it's bad, because there are things that I enjoyed, like Tilda Swinton's Scottish mortician/samurai, who's an absolute delight and a serious scene stealer. I also really like Tom Waits' Hermit Bob, a mysterious old man who knows everything that's going on through almost supernatural means. The plot about the three kids escaping from juvie is also kind of fun, even if it's completely abandoned over the course of the runtime. It's also kind of cool to see a film like this. Disappointment or not, it's so driven by Jarmusch's vision that it's hard not to admire, even if that vision didn't turn out great in the end result.

Another problem is that it's an absolute mess. There are so many characters with so many plots, most of which are just completely abandoned as the film goes on. The three central cops (Bill Murray, Adam Driver and Chloë Sevigny) are fine, even if they're totally flat as characters. Danny Glover and Caleb Landry Jones have a plot that should be fun (horror buff and hardware salesman fight the undead), but ends just when it feels like it's getting started. Steve Buscemi's racist farmer should be a scathing comment, but appears too briefly to make any significant impact. Selena Gomez's hipster and her poorly drawn friends meet a similar fate, with a story that ends just as the zombie action picks up. That's a big problem here actually; interesting ideas stopping before they can properly start. An ending that fades out without really concluding anything doesn't help matters, nor does an inexplicable explanation of one character's origins that feels like a comment on something, but the film's probably too smug and self satisfied to elaborate on that.

The Dead Don't Die is one of the most annoying films I've seen in a while, not because it's bad, but because it's disinterested. The irony and deadpan humour feel so misused, and because nobody really reacts to anything, nothing that happens feels like it actually means anything. It's be fine if that was the intention, to make an almost subversive horror that plays with your expectations by deliberately being uneventful, but I get the feeling it wasn't. Or maybe it was partially, but primarily this feels to me like an attempt at the same kind of comment that Romero made 40 years ago. Dawn of the Dead works because of the full on gore, with the social commentary being largely subtextual. The deadpan humour and unbelievably messy plot dull the satire in this film, taking out the film's teeth and really souring the tone. After all, how you can you have fun with something that feels like it's afraid to have fun with itself? 

My Thoughts on The Wandering Earth (The Best Bad Movie of the Year)

Every year gets that movie. The film that's so bad, that it's actually kind of brilliant. And this year, The Wandering Earth heroically answers the call, maybe not as the movie we want, but definitely the one we need. The Wandering Earth is a Chinese blockbuster, and I cannot stress this enough, it's absolutely wild. The film is set in the future, where Jupiter is about to crash into the Earth. To combat this, scientists from around the globe have put jets on the planet to push it away from Jupiter, and most of mankind lives underground after the planet has frozen over. The main characters father has gone to space, leaving him living underground with his grandfather and his little sister. Chaos ensues when they go up to the surface, and from there, it's two hours of crazy action.

That's a pretty stupid premise, and if it's pure quality you're looking for, look elsewhere. Even if you can get past the sheer insanity and improbability of the concept, there's a lot of stuff here that's just impossibly weird. Like Tim, this random convict that starts travelling with them, and acts as the comic relief. This guy is kind of indicative of this film actually. He's strange, kind of unnecessary, you don't know if you like him but he's strangely quite entertaining. The characters are all pretty thinly written, with exception of the hero, his sister, his grandfather and Tim. Everyone else is just kind of there, and none of them are really developed at all. Also if you thought that the core premise was silly, just wait until you see how they try to save the day, because it's absolutely freaking bonkers

So yeah, it's not great, but it's actually kind of admirable. The film is incredibly ambitious, and if some films don't go far enough with their ideas, that certainly isn't the case here. The film draws on contemporary concerns like climate change and the imminent destruction our planet is gradually tipping towards. The film is high concept madness, but the ideas themselves are so out there and unique, and the film never relies on anything that feels fine before. Even other natural disaster thrillers can't really match this one for sheer insanity, and I love how far they let this idea go. There are no half measures in this film, and as flawed as it is, I really have to applaud it for being able to tell a story like this on this scale. It's pretty much the opposite of boring, and as crazy and improbable as it gets, it's never dull. While I was watching it, I was basking in it's madness, and I was genuinely entertained, too. It's not a good movie, but it is a fun one, and sometimes that's fine too

The Wandering Earth is so shit that it's actually kind of brilliant. Wild VFX fuelled destruction + an incredibly wild premise + an ultra ambitious scale = 2019's wildest ride so far. It really scratched a itch I've been looking for, because, both in concept and execution, it's kind of different from anything I've ever seen. Look, it's definitely so bad it's good, but I'd still recommend it, because, while it's going on, it's fun in such a unique way, despite its overall quality being less than stellar

My Thoughts on Yesterday

I'm a huge Danny Boyle fan, I love The Beatles, and I really like Richard Curtis, so I was kind of curious when I heard about Yesterday. I mean Curtis and Boyle working together? Who said Hobbs and Shaw was going to be the greatest cinematic team up of 2019? The film actually turned out to be pretty good, though make no mistake: this is absolutely a Richard Curtis film, with only a few of Boyle's stylistic fingerprints on it. This review will be spoiler free, for the most part, but there's one scene that I kind of want to go into in depth that is a pretty big spoiler, so if you're planning on seeing it, you're generally good to read this review, but I'll drop a disclaimer when I'm about to talk about that scene, so you can just skip over that.

Yesterday follows struggling musician Jack, who gets in accident, and wakes up in a world where nobody remembers The Beatles.... except for him. Of course, this allows him to become a not so struggling musician, as he desperately tries to remember as many Beatles songs as he can. At the same time, he's also wrestling with his feelings for his long time best friend Ellie, which becomes increasingly difficult to do as his global stardom increases. The film's what-if concept is an immediately interesting one, essentially telling a story about The Beatles' impact on pop culture by taking them out of the story. There's a lot of cracking jokes about this, both with the people who have forgotten ("It's called Leave It Be") and in Jack's frenzied attempts to remember the lyrics to these songs (where was the rice in Eleanor Rigby?), and also some blink and you'll miss it details (is that Revolution 9 on the wall?). The comedy is very Curtis, that uniquely British, slightly bumbling style of comedy that Hugh Grant perfected in the late 90s. As a rom-com, Yesterday is a pretty decent one, even if it hits a lot of familiar notes as it goes on. The romance feels genuine, don't get me wrong, but Curtis' execution of it feels almost paint by numbers, with its conclusion incredibly predictable and slightly unearned. The film's use of clichés is actually one of its main issues. So much of this feels like it's been done before, like Kate McKinnon's agent, who's almost a caricature of an "evil corporate type".

This use of cliché is really what let's it down, but, happily, it's premise is strong enough to compensate. It's a great what-if, used not just for genuinely great laughs, but also some really interesting ideas about great art and the people who make it. This ties into the film's conclusion, which, without spoiling it, has some really interesting things to say about that topic. The film makes great use of this idea, which is another testament to how monumental The Beatles were. I mean, how may other bands could you do this with? Better still, how many pop culture figures could you do this with, musical or otherwise? I also love how there's no explicit explanation as to what happened. Because it's not just The Beatles. Lots of things have vanished (including Oasis, hilariously enough), and it's never explained. That's actually pretty impressive, because yeah, the film doesn't need to explore everything about this concept, because it's not like it loses anything without a concrete reason as to why this happened. The most interesting thing about how this film approaches this concept comes in the form of a single scene. So let's talk about it

Massive spoiler incoming, so skip the next paragraph if you haven't seen Yesterday yet

The film is getting a lot of coverage for a single scene, where Jack tracks down John Lennon, now looking a lot like Begbie, living out his days in a cottage by the beach as an artist. Some people have really taken against this scene, saying it ruins the film, that it was a misjudged, out of nowhere moment with nothing to add, one that could have been taken out altogether, and I.... don't feel that way. I quite liked this scene, actually. Is it necessary? Not really, considering how close it comes to the end, and the fact that the film's actual climax doesn't really reference it at all. Honestly, I think it's a pretty sweet moment, one that didn't need to be there, but one that I think is impressive, for the simple reason that they had the balls to put it into a film like this in the first place. A bright, breezy summer rom-com with an out of nowhere wham moment? It's not common, so fair play to them for putting it in. I liked this moment, even if it didn't feel 100% needed, because it kind of works on its own, like an interesting facet of this concept that almost works separately to the story, kind of like a vignette set in this world. Look, I get why some people hated it, but I don't know, I think that the sentiment of it is enough to justify its existence, so yeah, I liked it

And now back to the non spoilery stuff

I think the cast is pretty great too. Himesh Patel is a pretty good lead. A little dull maybe, but hey, he's a romantic comedy protagonist, albeit one in a crazy situation. Patel's a really charming screen presence, even if his character isn't the most interesting. But what does Richard Curtis do when his lead is a little bit lacking? He gives them a lovable best friend of course, which is where Joel Fry's Rocky comes in, frequently providing the laughs. Lily James is wonderful as always, once again proving that her charm knows no bounds in another Summer-musical-romance film (Baby Driver is a love story don't @ me). Ed Sheeran plays himself, which sounds awful but is actually alright. I mean he can't act, but he's endearing all the same, and delivers some really great gags. Sanjeev Bhaskar and Meera Syal are great as Jack's parents, and I was in stitches anytime they were onscreen. Kate McKinnon is really the only weak link here, as even she can't salvage such a clichéd character.

Yesterday is a Richard Curtis film. Which is to say it's a safe, soft crowd pleaser, but like the best of his films, has a unique kind of cynicism disarming magic. It's not revolutionary, but it doesn't have to be. It's pure feel-good, and you know what? It felt good. Yesterday is a joyful little film, one that is so overflowing with charisma that when it did occasionally slip up, I really didn't care, because it's so likeable that it almost doesn't matter. Yesterday fits so nicely in the little niche that Curtis has carved for himself, and as bright, breezy rom-coms go, this is definitely a good one. It's just a nice movie, and there's nothing wrong with that. Yeah, it's got its issues, but they hardly spoil what is another slice of uniquely British sweetness from the master himself. Yeah, I would have liked Danny Boyle's voice to be heard a little more, but as it stands, this is the best Curtis has been for a while, and it makes for some really nice viewing, even if it's more Love Me Do Actually than In My Life Less Ordinary. 

Why is Kill List Scary?

Ben Wheatley is an absolutely fascinating director. His films have a weird kind of fluidity, like they can have any time or any genre and still feel like a Ben Wheatley film. I'm a huge fan of this guy because of this, and also because he kind of just gets film and how it works. Kill List is a really interesting movie, too. If you haven't seen it, watch it before you read this, but be warned, it's an incredibly disturbing film. I'd like to explore why that is, but I can't really do that without spoiling it, so definitely check it out and then come back here. Kill List is easily one of the best horror films of the decade, but doesn't really become one until the last 20 or so minutes. It's absolutely terrifying and deeply disturbing, but why? Is it the imagery? The ideas? The content?

Horror is such a great genre because the stuff that makes it scary always comes from somewhere. Something like The Babadook is scary purely because of the ideas it tackles (grief can force us into uncomfortable and unhealthy mindsets that can damage the ones we love), while something like The Thing is scary because of the imagery on show (which itself comes from the a fear of the mutilation of the human body). Good horror can provide an immediate shock, but great horror can burrow deep under the skin to provide something altogether more sinister

Kill List is an almost deceptively simple film. Two hitmen have a list of people to kill. They kill them. But from the start, it's obvious that things aren't okay. One of the men has a fairly tense relationship with his wife, something that immediately makes the audience uncomfortable. As their job progresses, the two have violent encounters that, while not necessarily scary, deepen the already incredibly unsettling atmosphere. When they encounter a cult near the end, the film really becomes a horror movie, leading to an ending that's so pitch black and deeply disturbing.

Obviously the ending is terrifying, and the film is very clearly a horror film. But where does the fear come from? The whole film has an atmosphere of dread, but it only becomes a full blown horror in the home stretch. So why is the whole thing so scary? How does this combination of domestic drama, hitman thriller and cult horror manage to blend these things so seamlessly and create such a nerve shredding experience? We know it's a scary film, but why? I think, for me, a large part of it is the progression of the dread. The film opens by showing us the strained relationship between the hitman and his wife, which builds into this unbearable sequence where they have the other hitman and his girlfriend over for dinner. This is incredibly hard to watch, and it starts the film on an immediately uncomfortable note. This should be the domestic portion of the film, the calm before the storm, but by dropping us into an already tense situation, but Ben Wheatley doesn't give us that. He puts us into something that's uncomfortable but familiar, and while this isn't something unique to this film, given the pitch black insanity that awaits the audience, it provides some interesting dissonance. We're uncomfortable at the beginning, but it comes from a place that we inherently understand. Even if we haven't experienced this kind of situation, we know that this is something that happens. It's not pleasant, in fact the whole purpose of it here is to make us uneasy, but it's not unusual. This is the starting point of a film that goes from familiar discomfort to a completely alien kind of deeply disturbing horror

Of course, we have to get there, and this is where the progression of dread comes in. Wheatley portrays the job itself as its own kind of horror. These men are hardly new to violence, but Wheatley takes the stark reality of bloodshed and uses it to once again unsettle the audience rather than scare them. It's not as familiar as the film's opening portion, but it shows us the harsh reality of being an assassin. As the second act goes on, however, it begins to become more and more disturbing, not just for the audience, but for the characters too. They find themselves in a position much deeper and more disturbing than they intended when they took the job. They encounter some horrifying things, and begin to realise something isn't right. This is brilliant horror storytelling, because although the film isn't a full blown frightfest yet, you're encountering and realising these things alongside them, and when they sense of dread is at its absolute height, that's when Wheatley drops you into the real horror

There's no gradual reveal here. There are details all throughout the film that suggest what's going on, but there's no scene where they figure out what's really happening, and it's never something that the characters 100% understand. They try to leave of course, but they never realise the truth before it happens. It's the plot point equivalent of a jump scare, where something horrifying is spring upon the audience, but instead of being an image, it's a story beat. From here, it's pure horror. The tunnel scene, the brutal slaying of one hitman, the home invasion and the final ritual. The cult never explain their motives or their beliefs, because that stuff doesn't matter. The gradual buildup of dread suddenly blossoms into pure, grizzly horror, where the surviving hitman kills a mysterious figure who turns out to be his wife and son. As imagery goes, this is as bleak and horrifying as it gets, and because it's so sudden and so unfamiliar, it's so scary. Kill List is one of the most disturbing films I've ever seen, and it's a great horror film precisely because, for most of its run, it's not actually a horror film. The slow progression of dread makes the film more uncomfortable but less familiar, until the film ends on a scene that's so unfathomably scary, one that Wheatley never stops to explain, and doesn't need to, because it's awful enough on its own. Kill List is such an unpleasant watch, and I don't know if I could watch it again, but it's a masterfully crafted horror experience. It's scary because it's a slow descent from deep discomfort to unimaginable, almost unexplainable audacity. Why is it so scary? Because it's a carefully tailored descent into a hell so bleak that it can't fully be articulated

"They are bad people. They should suffer"