​After a zombie outbreak in Las Vegas, a group of mercenaries take the ultimate gamble and venture into the quarantine zone in hopes of pulling off an impossible heist.

Release date: 21 May 2021 (USA)
Director: Zack Snyder
Box office: $1 million
Production company: The Stone Quarry
Music by: Tom Holkenborg
Edited by: Dody Dorn

When the matriarch of the Graham family passes away, her daughter and grandchildren begin to unravel cryptic and increasingly terrifying secrets about their ancestry, trying to outrun the sinister fate they have inherited.

Release date: 15 June 2018 (United Kingdom)
Director: Ari Aster
Music by: Colin Stetson
Budget: $10 million
Produced by: Kevin Frakes; Lars Knudsen; Buddy Patrick
Production companies: A24; PalmStar Media; Finch Entertainment; Windy Hill Pictures;

A small-town Oregon teacher and her brother, the local sheriff, discover that a young student is harbouring a dangerous secret with frightening consequences.

Release date: 29 October 2021 (United Kingdom)
Director: Scott Cooper
Produced by: Guillermo del Toro; David S. Goyer; J. Miles Dale
Production companies: Phantom Four; Double Dare You Productions
Based on: "The Quiet Boy"; by Nick Antosca
Music by: Javier Navarrete
Stars: Keri Russell Jesse Plemons Jeremy T. Thomas

​Antlers is a film that is bathed in guilt, from the guilt that Jilia feels about leaving her brother to the abuse bestowed on the pair of them by her father, to the guilt that Pauls feel for just wanting a family, to the guilt of the population at large for the destruction the town has brought down on the local land.  This all plays heavily on the movie's feel; overriding Antlers' brutal, horrific elements is a powerful and claustrophobic sense of melancholy.  Even the incredible panoramic shots of the local landscapes are tainted with it. What should have beautiful shots of a gorgeous location become bleak, grimy shots of a landscape that has been stripped of all of its natural beauty at the hands of the townsfolk.  There are no glorious shots of a summer lake. Instead, we see vast swathes of muddied land, a town that is dirt, damp, and cold. I'd be interested to know which came first, the idea to use the Wendigo as the creature, or if the source material slotted the Wendigo in after the main themes of the story had been put on paper.  I ask this question as to the Wendigo as a creature has mythologically been used as a force of retribution against those who value greed, gluttony and power over everything else.  

As the local sheriff explains 

"The ancestral spirits have been here long before us and will be here long after," 
 "And now they're angry." 

Either way, Antlers is a powerful film that, even now, I am still trying to unpack many film elements four days after watching it.  

Was it worth waiting a whole year to watch Antlers? Did the anticipation sour the payoff?  To put it simply, it was indeed worth waiting this long to watch it.  Antlers hit the mark in nearly every aspect; I have a few issues with it, but as a whole, Antlers is a powerful, thought-provoking horror film that also delivers on the scares.  

The acting from the main leads is spectacular; Keri Russell as  Julia Meadows delivers a faultless performance as a broken woman who is still suffering from the abuse she suffered as a kid.  The tiny nuances in her acting are captivating; there is one scene in the local grocery shop where she eyes the shelf of spirits behind the cashier; you can feel the pain of her struggle with alcoholism at this point.  As a scene, it is perfect; her stellar acting, combined with a clever micro-tracking shot, is a highlight of the film.  Odd, I know that in a horror movie, I pick a simple and relatively innocuous scene, but it achieves exactly what it was meant to do by showing the fragility of her character. 

Jesse Plemons as Paul also delivers a first-class performance, whereas Russell's performance is all about the subtle nuances; Plemons infuses his character with an almost pound puppy persona.  He is desperate for his relationship with his sister to be fixed; he wants the family he never had growing up.  Thankfully Plemons never allows his delivery to turn into a sentimental tea-time drama performance.  

  Jeremy T. Thomas, as Lucas, wow!  That's the first thought you will have about this young actors performance.  Quite how such a young actor can channel that amount of grief, guilt and heartache into a performance that is so powerful, you will become fully invested in his story.  

As mentioned earlier, the cinematography of Antlers is first class, and it plays just as an essential role in the success of the story both in terms of watchabilty and as a tool for exploring the film's themes.

Sound is also an essential factor in a horror movie; however, the soundtrack to many horror films has become somewhat of an annoyance to me in recent years.  There has been a reliance on that one or two-note drone that seems to have permeated into almost evet film.  I don't know how to describe it better, but you will know exactly what I mean; it's generally used on long tracking shots as a car travels a long lonely road.  Javier Navarrete's soundtrack has a lightness of touch that dumps the typical cliched musical queues for more inspired music in a horror film. 

Cooper's direction is tight if a little bit too reliant on signposting the viewer as to what is to come and allowing the characters to make decisions that will have some of you scratching your heads at their stupidity. I'm looking at the school's headteacher in particular here, but I will leave it that.  

The directorial direction gave me my only genuine gripe about the film, the use of Graham Greene as the sheriff.  I will give everyone involved in the film fair credit, as they reportedly did their due diligence with regards to the mythology of the Wendigo, and by all accounts even used the guidance of the indigenous people whose ancestors were the originators of the mythology with regards to its use in the film.  This is all very good,  but having Greene as the only indigenous character in the movie and using him as the mystical person of colour for a massive info dump felt disingenuous to both his ancestors and the Wendigo.  

As a horror movie, Antlers delivers on all fronts; there is a fantastic sense of brooding despair that stretches from the opening scene right through t the end of the film.  Those looking for some more bloody and shocking elements in their horror film won't be disappointed either.  Antlers has some genuinely shocking scenes.  Thankfully the director doesn't rely on the curse of horror films; the jump scare is all but eliminated from this film.  

I don't want to give too much away about the Wendigo creature design; suffice to say that I was more than happy with the dry, almost mummified depiction of it.  My only gripe here is in the film's finale; the creature suffers a bit from looking like a videogame rendition.  


Overall, Antlers is a powerful horror movie that will scare you almost as much as make you think about what you have just watched.  In a year of great horror movies, Antlers stands head and horns above most of the competition.  Antlers is a film I will return to many times again 

Final Grade A

Ten years after a Valentine's Day massacre that claimed 22 lives, Tom returns to his hometown to find himself targeted as the main suspect. Only his ex-girlfriend believes that he is innocent.

Release date: 16 January 2009 (United Kingdom)
Director: Patrick Lussier
Budget: $14 million
Music by: Michael Wandmacher
Story by: Stephen Miller
Based on: My Bloody Valentine; by John Beaird

Paul Atreides, a brilliant and gifted young man born into a great destiny beyond his understanding, must travel to the most dangerous planet in the universe to ensure the future of his family and his people. As malevolent forces explode into conflict over the planet's exclusive supply of the most precious resource in existence, only those who can conquer their own fear will survive.

Release date: 21 October 2021 
Director: Denis Villeneuve
Cinematography: Greig Fraser
Music by: Hans Zimmer

A film review by James Bennett 

Appearing on bookshelves in 1965, Dune is widely regarded as the greatest science fiction novel of all time. It’s interesting, because things didn’t start out that way. Written by then-emerging author Frank Herbert, the story was first published by Analog magazine in two serialized parts, Dune World and Prophet of Dune, and edited by none other than John W. Campbell, who had a notorious fondness for tales that featured genetically engineered white Übermenschen. Campbell’s racism is as well documented as his shadow over the genre entire. As author Jeanette Ng famously stated at the 2019 Hugo Awards, Campbell was “responsible for setting a tone of science fiction that still haunts the genre to this day. Sterile. Male. White. Exalting in the ambitions of imperialists and colonisers, settlers and industrialists”.

Dune is a colonialist’s wet dream, for sure. But it seems the novel originally faced problems getting into print due to its slow pace and dense narrative, seeing several rejections before it found a home at Chilton Books, a publisher of car manuals, no less. And it’s fair to say the novel had troubled beginnings, with poor sales, hostile critics and an editor who refused to pick up the sequel, Dune Messiah, for daring to turn the white saviour narrative on its head by recasting the hero, Paul Atreides, in a flawed, even villainous light. Whether Herbert intended to support imperialism or critique it remains one of the main talking points surrounding the novel. It’s fair to say the later novels in the series invert some themes of the first book, while doubling down on others (in Heretics of Dune, for instance, the MC asserts that homosexuals are good for the priesthood, but bad for the army as it encourages men to fuck each other. Um. OK). The author raised a lot of questions, but never provided easy answers. As a result, interpretations of Dune have divided fans for decades. At the same time, that’s left Dune open to interpretation, which boosts its continued popularity and has made this latest version possible.

This potted history provides the fuel for an endlessly debateable novel that went on to enjoy major success, win Hugos and Nebulas, spawn twenty sequels, and became one of the most influential books ever. No one can deny the grandeur and scope of Dune, nor the fact that the novel has captured imaginations around the world, having been translated into dozens of languages and selling almost 20 million copies. The blend of scientific speculation with religious mystique set the template for thousands of genre novels to come. There’s an ineffable quality to the tale that keeps us coming back for more, thorny as it is, and Herbert’s contribution to the genre, inspiring countless sci fi authors to this day, is certainly worthy of respect.

So what’s the problem? The prevailing attitudes of the ‘60s loom large in its constructs, from the genetic engineering that gifts the desert planet of Arrakis its ‘messiah’, to the witch-coded Bene Gesserit who seek power via the means of shadowy concubines and wives, to the troublesome portrayal of gay-man-as-incestuous-paedophile/rapist in the shape of the obese Baron Vladimir Harkonnen (the only queer in the universe, apparently). There are reams of essays and articles about Dune that explore the novel’s more problematic facets, which I invite readers to explore.

While the ecological aspects of the novel are inarguably prescient, complex and considered, the stereotypes and biases that populate its weft are far from it. Frank Herbert was a known homophobe who had a difficult long-term relationship with his youngest son, Bruce, a photographer and activist who later died from AIDS. One can choose to separate the artist from the art, of course, but the evidence for ethnocentrism and fascist iconography is overwhelming, even in a surface reading of Dune. And it isn’t presented here for debate. Rather, for context.

It’s a context noticeably – yet unsurprisingly – lacking in several recent leading reviews, which appear to regard the film as a straight up summer blockbuster and little more. The fact is that Dune 2021 isn’t in line with previous iterations and the same old commentary doesn’t really suit it. Bear in mind that some of Herbert’s more abhorrent views – evidently, there are no racial minorities on the Arrakis of the novel and well, we’ve covered the homophobia – have been presented as ‘intelligent thought’ and ‘valid opinion’ around the globe for decades.

In 2021, it seems more painfully clear than ever that we haven’t all read the same book.

In light of that, how does one approach a modern film version of a novel like Dune, anyway? David Lynch had a go back in 1984, with a visually stunning, but confusing take, and one that added a crass disease element to the already problematic Baron – and at the height of the AIDS epidemic to boot. The film was considered a box office flop and garnered brutal reviews from Roger Egbert to the New York Times. Many regard Lynch’s opus as a cult classic regardless.

Which brings us to Dune 2021, director Denis Villeneuve’s latest interpretation of Herbert’s benchmark novel. The bold approach certainly seems to beg an overview of the history of Dune and the socio-political background. Both swirl in the genes of this modern day version, while at the same time presenting a subtle subversion of the themes.  

To those unfamiliar with the novel, Dune is the story of Paul Atreides (played by Timothée Chalamet, on ethereal, passionate form), the young heir to a powerful house in a multi-galactic imperium. Drawn into a feud with the depraved Baron Harkonnen (a forbidding Stellan Skarsgård), matters come to a head when House Atreides finds itself commanded to take up governance of the desert planet Arrakis (the ‘dune world’ of the title), which is the industrial mining centre for spice, a substance that enables deep space travel between the worlds. As such, spice is highly prized, and the scene is set for treachery and warfare on the planet’s surface. The political scenario takes on a numinous scope when Paul begins to suffer visions and comes to learn that the indigenous inhabitants of Arrakis, the desert-dwelling Fremen, regard him as a messianic figure, destined to bring about a galactic holy war… 

Where the previous screen version attempted to condense the source material and thus garbled its plot, Villeneuve gives Dune space to breathe, focusing on the first half of the novel (with a much-anticipated follow up film). This proves a smart move, the story unfolding through its characters rather than in weighty and inscrutable exposition. No cheesy voiceover here. No ‘Here’s the science!’ bit. For once, we’re seeing through the eyes of the players involved, the youthful excitement and doubt of Paul, the cautious guidance of his father, Leto (a solid Oscar Isaac) and the anxiety and hope of his mother, the Bene Gesserit adherent and ducal concubine Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson in a standout, galvanising role). Jason Mamoa and Josh Brolin provide credible macho support as Paul’s mentors Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck respectively. The menace is palpable in the Baron’s laconic and murderous mien. At times, Dune scales to Shakespearean heights, the cast elevating the material while the measured pace gets the gist across with bite-sized aplomb. Which brings us to Dune 2021, director Denis Villeneuve’s latest interpretation of Herbert’s benchmark novel. The bold approach certainly seems to beg an overview of the history of Dune and the socio-political background. Both swirl in the genes of this modern day version, while at the same time presenting a subtle subversion of the themes.  

From the off, it’s clear we’re in unorthodox territory with the square placement of Chani (a stern yet beguiling Zendaya) at the heart of the narrative. Dreamlike sequences add colour and romance to the otherwise claustrophobic halls of the Arrakeen Palace, as does the sweep of the desert itself when we eventually get to it. An early scene with a clapped out spice harvester and an approaching sandworm rachet up the tension with nail-biting oomph – even when you’ve read the book innumerable times.  It’s the blend of shadow and light throughout Dune that works so brilliantly. The massive Heighliner ship suspended over the planet, disgorging smaller craft, harks back to the space opera of Kubrick’s 2001. The test of the Gom Jabbar takes place on a set worthy of Dracula, with a suitably cadaverous Gaius Helen Mohiam (Charlotte Rampling’s scheming and aloof Reverend Mother). The Sardaukar, the elite imperial troops, are rendered with no-holds-barred violence, bringing blood and fire to proceedings. There’s a horrible spiderlike creature for extra shudders. The ocean of the Great Flat, with its seething subterranean worms and hidden tribes, dazzles and steals the breath. The director’s respect for the source material is plain and you feel that you’re in safe hands.

It’s perhaps that respect which inspires Dune 2021’s more impressive change ups. The women on Arrakis possess more agency this time around and feel less bound to the patriarchal paradigm. All the same, the paradigm lingers – it’s Dune, after all – and Jessica remains a concubine, somewhat unnecessarily. There’s a timely portrayal of Imperial Planetologist Liet-Kynes in the form of Sharon Duncan-Brewster, whose apparent neutrality gives way to a thrilling and noble bid for escape under the sands. Despite that, the first half of the film is decidedly male-dominated and it takes a little while to comfortably merge with these revised elements. Chani, when she appears, isn’t presented as a living receptacle for our pale insta-messiah, however. There’s a depth and spine to her that’s both believable and refreshing. 

Most impressive of all, Villeneuve makes no attempt to moderate or play apologist for the homophobia of Dune and its cinematic predecessor. He simply erases it, a sly move that feels progressive, while falling a step shy of inclusive. Considering the classic stature and regard of the novel, one can’t help but see the fine line the director is treading, and with so much on his plate, it’s hard not to appreciate his lightness of touch. On this score, it may prove tricky to criticise this version of Dune for ‘wokeness’ when the plot remains, for the most part, faithful to the book, the setting stuns and the acting is so absorbing. Unless one wants to bemoan a lack of dated and damaging stereotypes, that is. 

Thematically speaking, the film refocuses the colonial thrust of the novel on one that looks to unity and indigenous empowerment. ‘Desert power’ and ‘peace’ are the repeated buzzwords that shift Duke Leto’s presence on Arrakis away from ‘the latest coloniser’ to one who respects the Fremen and wants to secure them as allies to fight the Big Bad. In this sense, Dune leaves some of its moral ambiguity behind, and there are some who may feel this excuse for imperialism doesn’t sit quite right. Either way, Dune 2021 makes no bones about the fact that House Atreides and Harkonnen are outsiders, and unwelcome ones at that, who have only a slippery grasp of their new domain and no understanding of its spiritual core. In this sense, Villeneuve comes down firmly on the side of the story not being a ‘glorification of the white saviour narrative’ (his words) and while his reading of the novel is generous (to put it politely), it works all the same, resulting in by far the best screen version of Dune to date.

In summary, and sans spoilers, Dune is bound to enthral audiences with realistic special effects, captivating drama and pulse-pounding action. On the surface, it’s a beautifully shot and well made film. But it’s the subtle reworking of the narrative that elevates Dune to epic and visionary status. Yes, the book has problems. That may come as news to some. There’s an awful lot of sand on Arrakis – let’s leave it at that. As Frank Herbert’s concept once transcended him as an author, Villeneuve’s Dune transcends the author’s shortcomings and realigns his central vision with our times.

Love it or hate it, it’s an act of reverence that – perhaps undeservedly – suggests the legacy of Herbert’s breakthrough novel will endure for decades to come. 


Grade A

James Bennett is a British writer raised in Sussex and South Africa. His travels have furnished him with an abiding love of different cultures, history and mythology. His short fiction has appeared internationally and his debut novel CHASING EMBERS was shortlisted for Best Newcomer at the British Fantasy Awards 2017.

Edward reaches a private island to help his ex-fiancee find her missing girl. The community she lives in follows an odd cult and he must locate the girl before she is killed in the name of sacrifice.
Release date: 1 September 2006 (USA)
Director: Neil LaBute
Adapted from: Ritual
Budget: 40 million USD
Box office: $38.8 million
Producers: Nicolas Cage, Avi Lerner, Boaz Davidson, Randall Emmett, John Thompson, Norman Golightly

Bloodhound Pix is made up of: Craig Draheim, Josh Lee, and Kyle Hintz
​

Smoke and Mirrors: The Story of Tom Savini
A film review by Sam Kurd 

Filmmaker Jason Baker examines the life and career of Tom Savini -- one of Hollywood's premier makeup and special effects artists.

Director: Jason Baker
Producer: Jason Baker
Cinematography: Mitch Cleaver

Even if you’ve never somehow heard the name Tom Savini before, if you’ve seen horror movies then I can guarantee you’ve seen his work. He’s one of the best special effects maestros in the business, whose gory effects and ghoulish creatures lit up the screen in classics like Dawn of the Dead, Friday the 13th and Creepshow. He’s a genuine living legend, and this documentary aims to give you a peek under his hood.


Through a mixture of archive footage, old photographs and interviews with horror luminaries and the man himself, we’re treated to an overview of his life story from birth to the present day. And when I say luminaries, I mean it: interviewees include Greg Nicotero, Robert Rodriguez, Tony Todd, Bill Moseley, George Romero, Sid Haig and Alice frickin’ Cooper.


We learn about the unique mix of early influences that creates a mind like Savini’s. Growing up poor helped make him resourceful, but being surrounded by older siblings (the youngest was 15 years older than him!) meant a constant and loving support network in which he could grow. Fed on steady diet of monster movies, it wasn’t until he saw Man of a Thousand Faces that he had that lightning bolt realisation that changed horror cinema: someone makes these monsters,,, and if they could do it, so could he! Armed with a steady supply of makeup, issues of Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine and his own natural charm and irreverence, from then on there was no stopping him.


It’s fascinating to realise the difference in horror effects before Tom Savini came along. A lot of the 70s splatter flicks have blood and gore effects that haven’t ages especially well, with blood that looks like paint and other shortcomings. Savini raised the bar, and with that came a level of realism previously unknown and an era of gory films & creature features that stand the test of time.


It wasn’t an easy road from that poor kid with store-bought makeup to running his own effects academy, but it certainly makes for an interesting story! I’ve never read up on Tom Savini, so I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you how fresh and original it may be. It’s all new to me, and I enjoyed learning about where he came from and what makes him tick. I like that he considers himself a magician, because he’s in the business of creating illusions. All film-makers are in that business, and makeup departments are the ones who take it most literally!


One interesting and fun technique that director Jason Baker uses to keep things visually interesting is throwing in the occasional animated sequence to reflect the anecdote being recounted. My favourite of these was the terrifying experience Savini had during his time in the Vietnam War, which is capped off by a hilarious reveal that just perfectly sums up how absurd war can be. Well, that and the animated storyboard sequence that runs as Savini describes the original ending for his Night of the Living Dead – I wish he’d been able to run with that one, as it sounds much more striking and satisfying!


Baker is not an experienced documentarian, coming instead from a background in WWE art direction and, naturally, makeup effects. He treats his subject with reverence, which is pretty understandable as he’s Savini’s assistant and Savini seems like a really awesome boss to work for. By all accounts Tom Savini is a pussycat and a genuinely lovely man. He’s always came across that way, and that’s the overwhelming impression from all the interviewees: they praise his passion and creativity, but they’re most keen to impress on you that he’s just an all-round great dude.


If for some reason you’re looking for a salacious warts-and-all account that exposes the seedy side of a horror legend, you’ll be disappointed. Smoke and Mirrors isn’t a hard-hitting exposé or even an especially groundbreaking film; it’s a love letter to a man whose passion for gruesome fun has inspired thousands and touched millions.


It’d make a great double-bill with 2011’s Nightmare Factory!

On Halloween night in New Salem, Radio DJs Chilly Billy (Corey Taylor) and Paul (Zach Galligan) tell a twisted anthology of terrifying local myths that lead to a grim end for small-town residents (IMDB)


Warning – there may be a couple of minor spoilers for BAD CANDY in this review


Well this may well be the perfect treat to review as we head into the Season of the Witch/Ghoul/Ghost/Goblin/Demon Clown/Zombie/Bastard who puts razor blades in sweets for Halloween. Bad Candy is an anthology of half a dozen or so short horror stories, linked together by Chilly Billy and his mate Paul, as they keep their listeners happy at Halloween, broadcasting on frequency 66.6!

And who doesn’t like a good horror anthology for Halloween?

I know I do.

Ever since seeing Creepshow as a kid, I have loved an anthology and Bad Candy continues a tradition started (possibly, don’t quote me) by Dead of Night in 1945 and handed down through the generations via classics like Dr Terror’s House of Horrors, Creepshow, Cat’s Eye, Tales from the Darkside, V/H/S and the ABCs of Death to name but a few.

So how does Bad Candy stack up against the best?

Weeeeelll, it’s okay. While it is fun in places and suitably anthologyist (yes, I have just made up a word) it didn’t really bring anything new to the game. It has a nice set up and framing device in Paul and Chilly Billy, but I don’t think it capitalised on them as much as it could/should have done.

The film follows a radio broadcast from Chilly Billy (Corey Taylor) and Paul (Zack Galligan) as they recount spooky tales based on local events that may, or may not be true; some of them might even be happening as they broadcast. This framing device provides the through line for the film alongside the Bad Candy Demon Clown who pops in and out of the stories, sometimes doing something and sometimes not. To be honest, it is not always clear why he (she?) is there or what his overall purpose is. In the first segment he punishes an annoying brat and “collects” him, but we don’t see this repeated, so I wasn’t sure what that was really all about. This could have been an interesting theme to play with throughout the film as he punished various arseholes, but the character felt a bit wasted, considering how prominent he is on the poster.

Interestingly, the stories themselves are not all stand-alone. As well as the link segments that take us back to the radio station, there are connections between the tales such as a Halloween party that features in three of the segments and a few recurring characters. This was a nice touch, and I liked the way this all linked up and connected back to the Radio Station. The final tale is firmly linked to Paul and Chilly Billy and reflects a common revenge theme; Paul and Chilly are not safe from the malevolent forces that walk this Halloween eve!

Despite this, I didn’t think the film held up that well as a whole. The stories are generally fun and creepy, but I did have a few issues. One of the main problems was with a couple of the female characters. In one segment, a lonely woman seems to get (mortally) punished for having sexual fantasies about the dead – hey, you know, it’s a bit out there, but not really up there with putting razor blades in cupcakes. A later segment, which I thought was a great idea, has Army vets punishing the dregs of society with their demon pal. Their victims include a sex-worker who seems to get punished alongside thugs, arseholes, and drug dealers, just because she is a sex-worker. It felt a little unbalanced to me.

Bad Candy includes some decent practical effects and, although not excessively gory, there is enough to keep gore hounds happy. However, there was a reliance on digital effects from time to time with some fairly poor-quality blood spurts which were quite a distraction.
​
Bad Candy isn’t a bad film. It kept me entertained and I only found myself checking my watch once during the run time. I just found it lacking in a few places especially as it holds no real surprises for any fans of the horror anthology. Having said that, perhaps part of the appeal of the Anthology film is sort of knowing what you are going to get? But that is a whole different debate! And Anthologies are always going to have a harder time as their very nature makes it difficult to please everyone, all of the time. I also wanted Paul and Chilly Billy to have been utilised a little more. This is Zach Galligan for crying out loud! Billy Peltzer himself! I am not sure he says anything until at least half-way through the movie. Bearing in mind how things turn out, I feel his character and story could have done more and been developed further.


I had a quick look on IMDB as I was finishing this review and it is currently rated at 3.8. Personally, I think that’s harsh and I would push this to a 5 as it has lots of promise but doesn’t quite deliver. I wanted to love Bad Candy, but it wasn’t quite there for me and didn’t provide quite as much fun as some other similar films. Having said that, if you are a fan of horror anthologies this will do you fine, nestled between a rewatch of Creepshow and V/H/S, for example, as part of a schlocky Halloween marathon. Get a couple of beers inside you (or whatever your poison) and enjoy it for what it is.