I saw Barbarian...

Writer/director Zach Cregger's Barbarian is horrifying, suspenseful and above all, brilliant. It twists and reels, then resumes with repeated bang. It's also basic in its uncooked conceptualization: forever peculiar but so uncluttered as to be profound. 

It starts with an awkward, if not near-contentious rental conundrum (in a dilapidated neighborhood, no less), where a frustrated young lady, played by Georgina Campbell, appears at a "home" where a languid young man, Bill Skarsgard (It's Pennywise) has made camp. How did both come to be booked at the same spot? Who knows? But the two compromise, with the young man allowing the young lady to stay, from which a friendship (and a a budding romance) builds.

But when our heroine returns to the temporary station after a successful job interview, she discovers the abode harbors more than she realized, including hidden corridors and threatening props. Is her almost boyfriend linked to this bizarre ambiance, or is he as much a pawn in the deepening cat-and-mouse game? "Ay, there lies the rub."  

Justin (Jeepers Creepers/Tusk) Long's sit-com hot-shot enters thereafter, accused of rape by a costar and to pay attorney fees, he's forced to sell some properties, i.e. the aforementioned. When the actor visits his fund-raising dump, he disinters the same mysterious layers, and from there the horror kicks in full throttle.  

Richard (The Munsters '22) Brake's flashback caps it all, constructing a Tarantino-ish puzzle piece that explains the later monsterizations, along with a maternal but startling Matthew Patrick Davis appearance that's sure to freak one out till the cows come home. 

To reveal any more would spoil the plot, though by the ens, one will be grateful for having been kept in the dark, but unhinged by Cregger's sinister reveal. 

Barbarian's many lead-up manipulations are the prime cause of its long-term success, working like a string of magic tricks, while referencing classic, splatter/slasher foundations (Texas Chainsaw, Hills Have Eyes, Last House on the Left, Friday the 13th and Halloween), with Scream and Scream Again's daring juxtaposing at its heart. (In addition, there are traces of Frantic, Breakdown and Dying Room Only in one of its best, nail-biting segments.) However, Barbarian, for the sake of its barbarous tease, is also an avant-garde, weird-ass experiment all unto itself and for better or worse, destined for simulation. 

I can't help but recommend this frightful flick, but be warned: Barbarian will haunt you for days on end, fueling your paranoia and cynicism, but in light of today's deceitful world, where nothing is ever quite as it seems, that's probably a good thing. 

I saw 3 From Hell...

I'm sick and tired of the nicety-nice bull that's shoveled my way, whether it's fluff stuff like "The Polar Express" or dastardly drool like the tap-into-your-feminine-side "Maleficent: the Misunderstood". As a general rule of thumb, I prefer real-deal horror films. Sometimes I like 'em real rough and if the opportunity is there, on the big screen, which is why I'm miffed that writer/director Rob Zombie's latest, "3 From Hell" bypassed me on the theatrical route, not to mention that Neflix has yet to send me the DVD. I had to tap Amazon for an anxious view, but do appreciate the unrated opportunity, even if it did cost me a few dollars more. 

Now that I've seen the film, I'm fulfilled, not that it's necessarily the best chapter in Zombie's "devil's rejects" saga (to be honest, I don't know where I'd place it at this point), but at least it doesn't screw around trying to be something it's not. It's Tobe Hooper "Chainsaw"/Jack Hill "Spider Baby" nightmare sludge with weird-western trimmings, "Desperate Hours" allusions and characters I don't mind visitin' but wouldn't want to hang around for the long haul. These are scary individuals and the sort that any quality, new horror film should feature. Incidentally, this modern thriller commences in '78 and rolls no farther than the '80s, but its sick scenarios are every ounce as relevant today.

Even with that said, "3 From Hell" doesn't rely just on shock (like many lesser horror films do), though there's plenty of it to spare. The act of killing for the sake of killing takes a backseat to the twisted traits of Bill Moseley's Otis Driftwood, Sheri Moon Zombie's Baby Firefly and later down the line (replacing Sid Haig's Captain Spaulding), Richard Brake's Foxy Coltrane (the Midnight Wolfman). Through their wacky, docu-styled interludes (and among high-quality supporting thespians and their nuanced personas, led by Jeff Daniel Phillips' Warden Virgil Harper), they flaunt their insane, self-pitying agenda, trekking into skull-faced Mexico, after deterring death (the original trio having endured "twenty bullets a piece") and fleeing prison, as the jackass public cheers 'em on.  

Along the sojourn, Sheri Moon's Baby becomes the thrust: a Harley Quinn-ish vixen who gets to shake her crazy derriere even more than in the previous chapters, igniting a stream of steamy, sexual tension. Watch out! She's a veritable mantis, eager and proud to kill. What a wild, fetish-fueled angle!

Alas, Sid Haig presence in "3 From Hell" is brief. He was obviously sickly during filming, which I imagine may have sliced his screen time, but even a smidgen of Haig goes a long way. I savored Spaulding's gritty cameo for all it was worth and will do so whenever I revisit this decadent chapter.

You heard right. I'll re-watch this one and make no apologies to any snotnose who scoffs at the notion. This one wasn't made for those sorts, anyway. For all I care, they can skip on out and watch "National Socialist Beasts" a few more times and wear nice, frilly dresses while they're at it. That oughta suit 'em just fine.  I, on the other hand, will take huge pleasure holding "3 From Hell" close to my bruised heart, with my middle finger hoisted high for all to scorn.