This
film could spur sales of air purifiers, but it certainly does not promote recreational
pot use. Careful what you put in your body, because it just might stay in
there. It is not immediately clear what those air particulates are, but they
look ominously foreboding in Jeffrey A. Brown’s The Beach House, which
premieres tomorrow on Shudder.
The
Beach House starts
slow, but finishes strong. At first, the film seems to be an exercise in social
awkwardness, when Randall takes his girlfriend Emily to his father’s vacation
home on the exact same weekend Mitch and Jane Turner had arranged to borrow it.
The older couple tries to be gracious, but there is tension, because the Mrs.
Turner is clearly ailing. Presumably, this will be their last visit to the
beachfront property. However, everyone seems to relax when Randall breaks out
the edibles (over Emily’s objections), at least for a short spell. Still, the heaviness
of the dust or pollen in the air remains an unmistakable ill portent.
It
turns out, Brown is revisiting one of the classic horror-sf sub-genres, but it
would not be sporting to say which one. One the other hand, it is probably fair
to say it will involve a good deal of body horror. Frankly, there are times
when Owen Levelle’s hazy and moody cinematography brings to mind Dean Cundey’s lensing
of classic early John Carpenter films, like Halloween and The Fog,
which is very high praise.
Liana
Liberato (atoning for Trespass) is really very good playing Emily in
various stages of relationship impatience, stoned but not blissed-out,
hung-over, and completely terrified. She covers a greater emotional spectrum,
but both she and Noah Le Gros totally sell the bodily horrors. Veteran
character actor Jake Weber (from Medium and American Gothic) also
helps make the first act feel slightly off-kilter.
No comments:
Post a Comment