I SAW FACES OF DEATH (2026)

Faces of Death (2026, though completed in 2023/24) springs from the Mondo Cane-derived franchise of decades past, which became a forbidding hit on the VHS-rental circuit. This new submission isn't just a compilation of alleged, real-life deaths, but a make-believe account, wherein a fiend recreates the original anthology's horrific contents. 

In this regard, the setup places the "redux" in league with How to Make a Monster (1958); Wes Craven's New Nightmare; Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2; Mimesis: Night of the Living Dead; Mimesis: Nosferatu; The Bates Haunting; and that rousing spectacular, Gingerdead Man 2: Passion of the Crust. It uses what came before, by taking it as a pop-cultural phenomenon, while remaining fictional in its own right. Twisty, eh? 

Directed by Daniel (How to Blow Up a Pipeline) Goldhaber, who cowrote with his Cam partner, Isa Mazzei, the revision follows a web-content moderator/crusader, Margot Romero, played by Barbie (Euphoria/Nope) Ferriera, who discovers a channel where portions of the 1978 curation are recreated (albeit indirectly and always with prominent people) and promoted as veritable snuff, but are the segments genuine or just simulated spurts of sadistic fancy? To confirm, our protagonist (accompanied along the way by supporting characters played by Jermaine Fowler, Aaron Holliday, Charlie xcx and Josie Totah) comes upon the mannequin-margined, Bruiser/Eyes Without a Face-masked antagonist, Arthur Spevek, portrayed by Dacre (Stranger Things/Elvis 2022) Montgomery, with matters thereafter spiraling toward the potential (if not probable) point of no return. 

Based on its cunning realignment, Goldhaber/Mazzei's approach owes a ton to the Saw and Hostel franchises, as well as Herschell Gordon Lewis' Blood Trilogy and its grisly offshoots. In other words, it (like its titular inspirations) feels like borderline "torture porn," but then much of the splatter/slasher genre could be dismissed as such, and over the decades, the timid have been quick to decry it.  

Though I've no objection to Grand Guignol cinema, I kept the Faces of Death franchise at bay. The fact that its entries are said to consist of confirmed, death footage bothers me, even if various segments have been verified as faux. Though unsettling in its depictions, this new entry is easier to accept because it pushes a pure, melodramatic wraparound, using the video-snuff novelty to build what is, in essence, a Copycat/Barbarian/Silence of the Lambs/Longlegs, who-done-it or make that a what-drove-him. (In truth, it's in full, speculative step with any general, Jack the Ripper analysis.) Does that designate the neo Faces of Death as top-drawer? Not really, but its morbid gimmick does resonate, regardless of its objectionable foundation, thus holding the means to enthrall more than repel. Unless one's super-squeamish, I say it's worth a shot ... er, a stab or a slash or ... (Faces of Death is in limited, theatrical release with streaming available on Shudder.) 

TERRIFIC TEAM-UP IMAGE: ELVIS VS GODZILLA

 

DR. ALAN MANDELL: IF THEY TREAT YOU LIKE THIS

 

Dr. Alan Mandell, of motivational.com gives quality advice on health, both the mental and physical. 

In a profound short inserted below, he speaks of walking away from sour thoughts and those who prompt them, so that one may achieve better outcomes and greater self-reflections. I often reference those obnoxious know-it-alls who tend to belittle and never uplift, planting those gaslighting seeds that only ever spawn self-destructive weeds. Mandell's excellent, to-the-point piece reflects my perceptive to the behavioral tee! 

Give it a view. It might do you good. I know it's helped entrench my stance; for that, I'm most grateful.😏

FOR THE FUN OF IT:

 

I SAW THE MORTUARY ASSISTANT

The Mortuary Assistant, directed by Jeremiah (Slapface/Black Wake) Kipp and written by Tracee Beebee and Brian Clarke, is based on the video game of the same name, created by the latter for DreadXP. The adaptation held a limited, theatrical release in February and now thrives on Shudder for mass consumption. 

The frightful fable follows Rebecca Owens, played by Willa (Arrow/Straw Dogs 2011/Legion) Holland, a novice mortician under the tutelage of Paul (Boardwalk Empire/House of Cards) Spark's seasoned counterpart, Raymond Delver. The latter (who's at first a trifle standoffish and appears always by-the-book) claims that a demon controls the mortuary and can pluck, or make that, suck, from one's guilt, using corpses and mimicking monstrosities to abet the weird, nurturing process. 

The demonic manifestations could, in fact, be the result of chemical tainting within the building, but whether the cause is toxic, supernatural or behavioral, Owens' guilt-ridden past adds fuel to the fire, in that she's a recovering drug addict and susceptible to hallucinogenic prompts.  

It doesn't take long before our protagonist witnesses cadavers springing back to life, as well as encountering her father (John Adams)'s gnarly ghost and at one point, becoming distraught enough to attack a friend (Kenna Ferguson Frasier), with Delver always haunting the margins, which begs the question: Why has her mentor left her to this predicament? Is he a madman, a pawn or something else altogether?  

Portions of the movie echo Phantasm, The Evil Dead, Re-Animator, The Return of the Living Dead, Let Sleeping Corpses Lie, Dead and Buried, Mortuary (1982), Mortuary (2005), Carnival of Souls (1962), Jacob's Ladder, The Trip and Silent Hill 1 & 2. However, even with its numerous allusions, The Mortuary Assistant stands on its own, its uncluttered (character-sparce) structure reminiscent of a somber stage play, albeit one doused in top-of-the-line effects. 

Unfortunately, due to its lingering ambiguity, some may find The Mortuary Assistant hard to swallow. The vagueness may have have been stunted by giving Owens a more substantial background (the kind that we experience for Russell Crowe in Joshua Miller's The Exorcism), but even so, the movie's luring melancholia can't be denied. It's what most will remember beyond the tale's strange context and likely what will inspire more than a few to revisit it. 

PINUP TIME: JENNIFER BEALS IS EVA (THE BRIDE)

 

RHAD'S M-E-T-A-M-U-S-I-C: OUTWARD/INWARD MOODS

The artist presently known as RhaD (i.e. Raffaele Pezzella, aka Sonologyst) has another Unexplained Sound Group album that I felt compelled to assess: M-E-T-A-M-U-S-I-C.

As with RhaD's Ghost Music Library (see March 2026 post), M-E-T-A-M-U-S-I-C summons matters unseen and all through self-reverential means.

M-E-T-A-M-U-S-I-C isn't shy about binding its audio vantages, either, as its six segments prove both expansive and introspective, while it surfs the social extremes. 

For example, the track, "La chute dans le temps. For small ensemble of voice-organ-classic guitar-found recordings," starts with a temporal reveal, using ambient crawls, ebbing strums and a redoubtable, piano lure, each segment aligned with a shameless stream of the spoken word. The outcome is relaxing, even if brash beneath: a time for the ol' outward/inward mood, for sure. 

"Pol Pot. Stereo test Signals alterations" forges still another attractive yet sinister structure, with additional utterances, matched by a trickling backdrop that teases more than not. If one were so inclined, the track could invoke a prison cell, where one sits, mopes and scopes ... perhaps scopes much too far, only to understand far too little. Exploratory stuff, indeed, enough so that one may evade eclipsing the ambivalent bar.  

"Telephonic Art followed by Chamber Music" is livelier than the previous two, all due to its chit-chatty, phone-ringing exchange. That doesn't make it any gentler at heart, but there's an implied hope, a more determined drive, which tells one to reach out and try, even if ignored. 

"Tesla. Sound documentary" celebrates the titular, beleaguered inventor, but along the way, it also steals from dystopic science fiction, where technology mounts, only to crash and burn. Radioactive droplets are heard throughout, underscored by angelic wails and militaristic cries, but as much as the strange interchange lies, its foundation stays sincere.

"Mark Marcum Time Machine. Sound documentary 2" springs with sheer elevation. It buzzes as much as it talks, erecting a Wells-ian ladder. Is the goal viable or mad? Will one trek forward or backward? One won't know until one cranks a gear. 

"Tape manipulation of 1998, radio recordings" is the last and most experimental in the intricate line, tossing a little of this and that into its vast kitchen sink. More piano chords enter, as well as a violin and new voices, with soothing static stitching the parts. The juxtaposing requires filtering, but to do so would only spoil the flavor. The track is what William S. Burroughs may have called cut-up art, with an accidental meld that forges unpretentious perfection. 

Perhaps it's the lack of dissimulation that molds M-E-T-A-M-U-S-I-C. Its audio detours pull from the barefaced annals of life, and life, whether viewed from the top or bottom, consists of so many things, if not everything. That everything distinguishes this epic. Indeed, for its bold inclusive/exclusive aspirations, RhaD's motely masterpiece is worth the experience. 

https://unexplainedsoundsgroup.bandcamp.com/album/metamusic