After watching this Spanish film, I almost had to sleep with the lights on.
The last few minutes of that film are the creepiest I’ve seen in many years. The whole thing is brilliant — not just in the approach to steady cam POV with long, uncut sequences but in its portrayal of mounting panic and terror.
And then there’s the ending. Holy Christ. Most of the night, I both simultaneously cursed the filmmakers for the terrible way they got into my head and admired their prodigious talent. But mostly what I want to know is: How the hell did they do that? (If you’ve seen it, you know what I’m referring to.) I still this morning have a terror hangover in my gut.
I have no intention of watching QUARANTINE, by the way, which is the American remake. But I will probably watch the sequel, despite how I feel about most sequels. I just don’t believe in American horror anymore. I don’t really enjoy crappy plots smeared with a little blood and some jump scares, which seems to be what American producers think horror is. I want horror to shake me up and strip me down with a great story and characters I love. We stopped doing that way back in — when? The early 1990s? After the borefest known as BLAIR WITCH, I gave up and turned to strictly foreign horror. I have been rarely disappointed.
Lord Arux is gone this weekend on a business trip. I accidentally stalked him when I checked out a live Internet stream of his conference. (I was supposed to go with him, as it would have been an excellent conference for me, too, but lack of funds got in the way.) So, I’m home taking great advantage of the writing time.
And so, to write.