"The Embalmer" Review

Films like “The Embalmer” are better with the lights out. Most of the action in this short film takes place in a dimly lit basement. Watching in the dark makes it easier to see every gory detail, enhancing each creepy second.

The scene opens on one man hanging upside down while another selects grisly tools with which to torture him. The tools are arranged on the kind of tray one might expect a doctor to use, or perhaps a butcher. The torturer is just about to get back to work on his victim. The amount of blood makes it clear he’s been working for a while. How bloody must that torturer’s hands be that he washes them in water that’s more realistically crimson than the blood in most low budget slasher films?

“The Embalmer” has a great cast. Tom Martin and Kevin Will managed to do justice to extreme characters in extreme situations without becoming caricatures. Though the film opens with a scene of senseless violence, Martin and Will built these two men in such a way that in the end it all made so much sense. The emotional arcs were so well developed that by the time the credits started rolling I felt like I’d watched a full length film.

In the first few seconds of any film, expectations are established. The film makes promises. A promise broken is trust lost between the film and the audience. “The Embalmer” set the bar high (high quality, highly stylized), and it never deviated. In that way, this film feels a lot like a Hollywood film, effortless to watch. The acting, plot, and pacing worked together to keep the film’s initial promises. That’s a credit to Michael Regalbuto, who’s careful directing never let the audience down.

Though there is charm in the almost unified divergence of most indie film from the main stream, I believe directors like Michael Regalbuto are the future of indie filmmaking. He and others like him will produce well-written, well-acted, well shot, and well-edited pieces that, though outside the mainstream, somehow transcend it. Due to limited resources either in funding or talent, indie films can easily and irreparably drop the ball in at least one of these areas, forcing audiences to lower their expectations in an attempt to salvage the experience. Getting a film right can be tough even for studio pics, but “The Embalmer” doesn’t ask that of its audience. We didn’t have to suspend our belief in order to forgive Regalbuto’s mistakes because, by and large, he didn’t make any.

I have just one small criticism. I felt the flashback ended too soon. It was rather abrupt. Perhaps the torturer grabbing the closest heavy object, indicating a coming blow to the victim’s head, might have done loads to explain not only the short duration of the initial struggle between them but also the victim’s disorientation in the beginning of the film. I almost feel like a longer version of the flashback exist somewhere, like it was shot but was, I don’t know, cut for time or something? Bring it back, please, if it’s out there. I promise we won’t mind if this film is a little (or a lot) longer. To be honest, I could even see it as a feature.

"Booty Sex" Review

Every now and then somethingess and crass it actually transcends tasteless and crass and becomes funny. "Booty Sex" is one such creation. I did not want to laugh at this film, at the excessive potty humor, but I did. I couldn't help it. And once I started, I couldn't stop... I think I might have been humor raped. I'm going to go take a shower.

We at SHOCKFEST like to think that shocking comes in all shapes and sizes. Well, if you give it a layer of lame stubble, coat it in chocolate, and wrap it in a berka, you've got a particularly offensive kind of shocking that calls itself, "Booty Sex." This music video is disgusting. I spent half the run time screaming, "Why? Why?" at the screen. It's not hard to understand "Booty Sex." The film is pretty one dimensional. One might see the use of a berka in a film about anal sex as some type of veiled social commentary, no pun intended, but it's not. It can't be. If it were, I think I'd lose faith in all mankind.

I do have one piece of praise for this film. Few things are as bad as an indie film that tries to overreach itself. Model airplanes with strings, explosions that are superimposed over what's supposed to be exploding, gun shots that don't quite come out of the front of the gun, fighters who just can't fight convincingly. The list of offenses could be a blog post in itself. So I'll just come right out and say it. "Booty Sex" looks cheep. There, it's out. But in a film that bills itself as a comedic spoof on home sex tapes, it works. Director Arthur Diennet does what he came to do, make a music video featuring a smarmy dork rapping about his favorite kind of sex. It's cheesy and ridiculous. Mission accomplished. And as far as shot quality and lighting go, to be entirely honest I wouldn't even want to see "Booty Sex" in HD. No, I would not.

As for you, make sure to take your ass to SHOCKFEST Film Festival November 7 to check out "Booty Sex," at Cinespace in Hollywood. Don't forget a chastity belt. Go to www.shockfilmfest.com for the details. See you there!

"Hollywoodn't" Reveiw

The film opens like an episode of The Twilight Zone. In tonight's episode, it's past closing at a chic LA restaurant. The nervous waiter attends his last two patrons, a has-been director (David Aaron Freed) and an A-list actress (Lia Johnson) who are discussing a new film project.

As awkward seconds stretch between the characters, the waiter pulls out all the stops to get as much face time as possible. He finally works up the courage to do what all waiters in LA eventually do, pitch a script to captive patrons. The actress is polite and patronizing. The director is uninterested and blatantly condescending. As the young waiter speaks, the he passes nervous and goes straight on to hysterical when he realizes he's bombing a once in a lifetime opportunity. When all the pressure and pretense of Hollywood come to a head, the consequences could be... shocking.

As a film, "Hollywoodn't" was slick in most respects, good quality, great location, nicely done opening and closing credits. Writer/director Jeremy Sklar delivers a generous handful of memorable images, building tension with strong storytelling and expert composition. He seemed, however, just a little too eager to get started with the fancy shots. The film's creepy vibe is well established at the onset, so anything more than basic shots during the initial table conversation became distracting.

The end of this film totally delivers, suspense, fear, uncertainty without being completely random. But in a lot of ways, "Hollywoodn't" the film is very similar its lead character. It's awkward, and a bit of a slow starter. It really felt like the actors needed time to find their characters in the piece. The stilted dialogue attempted to portray the awkwardness of the scene and instead revealed the awkwardness of the actors. But by the time the characters were ready to leave the restaurant, half way into the film, everyone had found their stride nicely, especially the struggling waiter/writer, played by Danny Callaway. Though the credits listed Callaway as "introducing," his was definately the best performance of the film. J.Eddie Martinez also puts on an interesting though brief appearance as the seldome seen busboy.

"Hollywoodn't" captures my favorite thing about Hollywood. Darn near everyone in the country with delusions of grandeur ends up in this city, all the crazies in one place where there's plenty of company. But on the flip side of that, as our waiter in this film says, "It's a sick, twisted town." That's the price of admission, I suppose. But for the characters in this film, what a price!