Film Review: Revenge

"There Are Three Of Us And We're Armed. What Are You Afraid Of...?"

With rape revenge movies holding precedent with the likes of infamous video nasties including Wes Craven's The Last House on the Left and I Spit on Your Grave, two 1970's era releases which both ended up on the Director of Public Prosecution's list for decade-long bans and subsequently ended up being re-made for a twentieth century audience for reasons still unknown to this day, French big-screen debutante, Coralie Fargeat, cuts her teeth with Revenge, a ridiculously hyper-violent but uproariously entertaining B-movie which sees Matilda Lutz (Rings) as Jennifer, an eye-catching and knowingly beautiful socialite who travels with Kevin Janssens' millionaire playboy-type, Richard, to a rural, secluded property in the middle of golden sanded desert and is swiftly left for dead after being raped by one of Richard's associates. Whilst the cliches and the straightforward nature of the central narrative is one not exactly harbouring on originality, Revenge succeeds in a wide range of fields elsewhere, with its' ripe and tantalising stylish sensibility in particular an astonishingly brave and bold cinematic treat, and with strong performances and a staggering amount of seemingly endless levels of bloodshed, Fargeat's big-screen debut is a joyous, if tough, cinematic debut.

With Julia Ducournau showing the world last year what can be achieved if given free reigns to commit to a particular first-time project, her own personal debut in the form of the excellent Raw does bear many similarities to Revenge, particularly in regards to its' use of tone, style and B-movie violence, and whilst its' hard to envisage any movie which contains the notion of sexual violence in any form as blackly comic, Fargeat's direction of the events which unfold on-screen can't help but be chuckled at in a completely over-the-top kind of fashion, particularly as the movie morphs from its' strongly sadistic opening act to a second half which almost falls into the realm of absurdity and incomprehensibility. With bucket loads of blood, Tarantino-esque gun shot wounds and toe-curling personal first aid skills, Revenge doesn't hold back on its' well deserved 18 rating and whilst many may find the contradictory tone between the opening first act and the remaining hour or so slightly alienating, the sheer ripeness of the style in which the action plays out is staggeringly entertaining and jaw-dropping at times to behold. With a lurid, neon-dipped colour palette set against the backdrop of a searing golden-plain desert, the movie feels like a hybrid of Winding Refn's The Neon Demon and Mad Max: Fury Road, and with a penchant for the latter's unchained craziness riding through it like a hot poker, Fargeat's debut is a wild, ultra-violent ride which will undoubtedly make even the most well-versed horror movie fan wriggle in their seat. 

Overall Score: 8/10

Catch-Up Film Review: Rings

 "I Keep Thinking About This Story. There's This Video That Kills You. Seven Days After You Watch It..."

Blah, blah, blah. Whilst there is nothing new in the notion of American remakes, the category in which really grinds my gears is the one filled to the rim with English-speaking "re-imaginings" of foreign language horror movies, with absolute classics in the form of A Tale of Two Sisters, Let The Right One In and Ju-on: The Grudge all being mashed up and reproduced in the flight of gaining a quick yet tainted blood-stained buck on the account of the butchery which tends to happen when foreign movies are translated onto an audience which is primarily English speaking. Of the many horror franchises which has roots well and truly set in the minds of more intelligent filmmakers, Rings, directed by Spanish filmmaker F. Javier Gutiérrez, is yet another entry into the Ringu canon which began all the way back in 1998 with Hideo Nakata's terrifying cinematic take on the Koji Suzuki novel of the same name, and whilst the third American entry seems to begin with an element of interest, Rings unfortunately, yet unsurprisingly, ends up being yet another wasted opportunity, with it not only coming across as incredibly offensive to horror fans across the world, effectively spits on the shadow of its' former self with its' sheer and utter dreadfulness.

With a leading star who carries as much charisma and interest as an ASDA bag for life, Rings begins with a narrative which looks as if it is set to offer some new light into the world of spooky water-covered teenagers with long black hair by delving into a somewhat underground network of shady college preps who view the infamous killer video tape as a reason to get up in the morning, using the threat of Samara as a messed up type of adrenaline rush alongside a basis for Johnny Galecki's character's thesis on the mystery of her existence. Whilst this interesting notion covers roughly the first fifteen minutes of the movie, the following 90 minutes is essentially a cheap re-telling of a story in which every single person in the cinematic world is now bored to death with, trading real elements of threat and suspense with cheesy dialogue and awful jump scares which rely on the power of the cinema's sound system in order to actually come across as worthwhile. News alert; they don't. Ending on a supposed twist which offers up the idea that the franchise is set to continue into the future, Rings is the type of cinematic face-palm which you really struggle to understand its' existence. If you're thinking of buying it on DVD, don't. 

Overall Score: 3/10