Looking for a genuinely different zombie film? Try Shinichiro Ueda's ONE CUT OF THE DEAD

Yeah, yeah: You keep hearing about "really different zombie films," particularly zombie comedies -- of which we've already seen plenty, from Shaun of the Dead through Stalled and way beyond (in fact, Jim Jarmusch's try at this subgenre arrives on DVD/VOD this very week). And while it's true that the new film under consideration here -- ONE CUT OF THE DEAD -- is indeed a zombie comedy, it is so different in so many ways from the usual pack that TrustMovies believes it merits the attention of film buffs and maybe even that of zombie-movie lovers.

As you may know if you follow this blog, I am no fan of zombies -- the most boring "monsters" movie-land has so far created. In the old days they looked a little spooky and walked so slowly you could tiptoe away from them with no problem whatsoever. These days they either move slowly (as in the grand-daddy of the modern zombie flick, Night of the Living Dead) or fast, and they, yes, "feast on the flesh of the living." Big deal. Werewolves can change their whole appearance while scaring us silly, and vampires make a great metaphor for forbidden sex. But zombies? Real Johnny-One-Notes, they bore us to distraction.

All of the which makes this 2017 film -- written, directed and edited by Shinichiro Ueda (shown two photos above) a nice, if rather long gestating, surprise. And so I must beg you, should you take a chance on this movie, please last out through the longueurs of the first third, which will seem like a rather standard, if silly zombie film, and through the second section, which more or less explains how that first section will soon come into being, and to hold out until the final third -- which is truly unusual: genuinely funny, sweet and charming as all hell. (My spouse gave up midway through the movie, and so missed what I now know he would, given his taste and humor, have really loved.)

More than this, plot-wise, I ought not say. Spoilers, you know. But the more we learn about the characters in the movie-within-the-movie, and about the actors who play them and about all the folk laboring behind the scenes, One Cut of the Dead just grows better and better.

The whole cast is delightful -- by the finale appearing, oh, so different from what you initially perceived -- and Mr. Ueda is to be congratulated on his moxie for coming up with an idea this bizarre and then bringing it to decent fruition. Given what that idea is, I don't really see how he could have avoided those aforementioned longueurs. And his final section proves so much fun that I think you'll easily forgive him. I sure did.

Released via Shudder, in association with Variance Films, One Cut of the Dead -- running 96 minutes, in Japanese with English subtitles -- opens in New York City (at IFC Center) and Los Angeles (at the Alamo Drafthouse Downtown) today, Friday, September 13, after which it will play at over 60 one-night screenings across the US and Canada, slated for Tuesday, September 17 (click here to see all currently scheduled screenings), with additional ones to follow and more being added daily. Eventually, I would imagine, you'll be able to see the film on the Shudder streaming service.

Netflix tip: McG's THE BABYSITTER mashes genres for a funny, gory, sweet 'n nasty treat

Looking for a guilty pleasure that will really pleasure you -- in a number of ways -- if you don't mind an unusual mix of sweet-family-feel-good, blood-guts-and-gore, a very young coming-of-age tale, devil worship and murder, all wrapped in one of the most rambunctious, well-paced, pull-out-all-the-stops tales in quite some time? Then THE BABYSITTER, a new film from McG that's available now via Netflix streaming, may be just your cup of tea. The filmmaker (shown below) has had a rather spotty, up-and-down record over the years -- from Charlie's Angels to We Are Marshall, Terminator Salvation and Three Days to Kill -- but this new film is one of his most throwaway yet simultaneously his most oddly delightful ventures.

The mix-and-mash of genres here works surprisingly but wonderfully, beginning with McG's choice of leading boy: the terrific Judah Lewis, who gets a role in which he is allowed to do practically everything and does it all to a fare-thee-well. He handles fear and smarts and action and attraction and so much more with such believability and aplomb that he'll win you over in a flash and keep you with him all the way.

As written by Brian Duffield, who clearly has a good understanding of each of the genres he uses and abuses, the movie begins as a bullied young adolescent tale before morphing into a kind of Home Alone (with murdering satanists), and then into -- well, just hang on for the very wild ride.

Young Master Lewis (above, left) plays Cole, and his co-star is that gorgeous and clearly pretty talented Australian actress Samara Weaving (above, right, whom you can also see currently as the co-star of Mayhem and in the juicy little role of the ex-husband's current squeeze in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri).

Ms Weaving begins the film as that titular movie icon: the beautiful, kind, helpful babysitter you can turn to for just about everything. And then the nastiness and gore begins. How all this goes down -- helped along marvelously by McG's and Duffield's sense of humor -- is full of both the expected and the un-, and the pacing is so on the mark that the film's energy, as well as our attention, never flag. There is always something funny or gory or ridiculous (but clever) around the next corner.

The supporting cast is quite well-chosen, too, with every role (and actor in it) a kind of stand-out of sorts. That's Andrew Bachelor under all the blood, two photos up, and Bella Thorne (above, left) and Robbie Amell (above, right). Mr. Amell, with his to-die-for torso, has the movie's best line said about him by young Cole: "Why does he have his shirt off?" Cole asks this question more than once, and while it never gets answered, it manages, in wonderfully ironic fashion, to speak volumes about everything from sex in slasher movies to the gay gaze, the male "fitness" imperative, the Adonis/ Narcissus complex, and the need to undress, come hell or high water.

The movie's second best line -- an on-the-mark humdinger -- is spoken by the cute little girl (Emily Alyn Lind, above, right) who lives across the street and to whom our Cole is attracted. That line should rightly remind males about rational thinking and making intelligent judgments despite a current individual event or disappointment.

All this melds together with such bizarre finesse that The Babysitter takes its place as one of this year's best guilty pleasures. If you're of a mind for this sort of thing, add the movie to your Netflix list now. (I don't think the film is currently available anywhere else.)

DVDebut: Mike Mendez goes after those giant spiders -- again! -- with LAVALANTULA

If the Syfy Channel, where the film LAVALANTUAL made its debut, was expecting another Sharknado -- the campy, now-classic, so-bad-it's-good, would-be scary movie -- I'm afraid they were disap-pointed. They should not have been. This newer film, which combines tarantulas and volcanoes much more cleverly and intelligently than its predecessor managed sharks and tornadoes, is simply a model of straight-ahead B-movie smarts with A-level special effects.

Written by Neil Elman and Ashley O'Neil and directed by Mike Mendez (shown at right), who back in 2013 gave us the wonderful little monster comedy Big Ass Spider!, this new film manages to combine comedy, camp, chills, thrills and terrific special effects with a story that starts fast and keeps up that pace for almost its entire 83-minute running time. That's exactly what a good B movie is supposed to do. Everything else--style, charm, wit and some decent performances (all of which there are plenty of here)--is gravy.

Lavalantula is lucky to have as its star, the under-rated Steve Guttenberg, (above, right) who, for nearly 40 years now, has been in the limelight. Remember The Chicken Chronicles and the Police Academy series, not to mention Can't Stop the Music, which might easily have qualified in its day as the Sharknado of musical comedies? Well, Mr. Guttenberg is still at it, entertaining us easily with his off-the-cuff charm, humor and sex appeal, almost none of which have drained away over the intervening decades. The guy still looks great, acts easily and seems to have actually gained some additional charm en route.

Here Guttenberg plays an over-the-hill actor who once had a successful franchise but is now making C and D movies for a living. He has just walked out on one of these after an altercation with its director when a series of earthquakes and volcanic activity seize Southern California, releasing those titular Lavalantulas all over the place.

As in all thee B horror/monsters flicks, protecting family becomes paramount and so our hero rushes to save mom (Nia Peeples, above) and teenage son (Noah Hunt). The filmmakers use their hero's "star" status to make good, loving fun of Hollywood, agents, the industry and especially fan worship, and all this is blended quite well with the thrills and chills, as what looks like about half of Hollywood gets incinerated by these fire-breathing spiders.

There's a nice balance of excitement, storytelling, humor, and inside-the-industry that should keep audiences happy and on their toes throughout, as Guttenberg commandeers a tour bus, which leads to a lovely turn from Patrick Renna (above, left) as one of its passengers.

If there is nothing great here (the ending is a little bit of a let-down, given what's comes before), it is still quite pleasant to view a good B movie from a bunch of professionals who know what they're doing and do it this well.

Released to DVD from Alchemy, after its Syfy debut, the disc hit the streets this past week, for purchase and/or rental.

On DVD and elsewhere: Matt Jackson/Michael Skvarla's LOVE IN THE TIME OF MONSTERS

By this time in movie history, comic horror is now a genre staple, nearly as oft-seen as the horror genre itself. A new addition to the oeuvre arrives in the form of LOVE IN THE TIME OF MONSTERS, and if that title put you in mind of the late Gabriel García Márquez and his Love in the Time of Cholera, I'm quite sure that's inten-tional on the part of the moviemakers, Matt Jackson (the director, shown below) and Michael Skvarla (the screen-writer).

As so-so a film as was the adaptation of "Cholera," "Monsters" proves equally so in the comic horror area, though its provenance is nowhere near as classy as that of Señor Marquez's now-classic novel.

Not that there aren't a number of funny moments here. There are indeed, and some of these are quite dryly delicious. My favorite: a cop car pulls up to driveway of a vacation resort (which has a reputation for trouble) and sees one of the resort's fabled "Bigfoot" impersona-tors feasting on the flesh of a recently deceased victim. "Well," the policeman mutters, "this is new."

There's more where that came from, too, from screenwriter Skvarla (pictured above), and perhaps the first thing that may grab you about the movie is how well-acted (for its low-budget genre) this film is. It begins with a family vacation a decade previous that goes very wrong.

Ten years (or so) later, the two sisters from that vacation finally agree to take one of their own, choosing a cheesy little tourist trap dedicated to the legend of Bigfoot and owned and operated by an even cheesier Croatian immigrant (the very good Michael McShane, shown at right, three photos below) who fancies himself a "patriotic American." His TV commercial for the park is one of the funnier things in the film: ridiculously all-American yet clearly made and spoken by a non-American.

One of the sisters' fiance has a job in the park as a Bigfoot impersonator, and early on in the film he and his crew manage to take a dip in a nearby lake -- loaded with toxic waste from corporate dumping -- and immediately turn into ravenous monsters (That they are wearing their Bigfoot suits at the time makes them both bizarre and humorous.)

Mr Skvarla has provided dialog that is often smart and funny, and the actors -- some well-known, particularly Kane Hodder and Doug Jones (below, left, and excellent, as always, in the role of the single "scientist" in the bunch), others less known but quite good -- do a fine job of bringing that dialog to life.

There are also a few suspenseful scenes, coupled, of course, to the requisite blood and gore that the genre demands, of which some of us viewers are growing a little tired by now. The envelope for the squishy/icky factor has been pushed so far that it is practically coming out the other side, resulting in "special effects" that no longer look very special. Though they are sometimes coupled to queasy humor, they still grow tired fast. (They could have used some of  that same dry wit provided by Mr. Skvarla's dialog.)

At 97 minutes, the movie could also have lost ten -- particularly the ones devoted to would-be "drama," as our slowly thinning-out cast tries to come to terms with the meaning of true love, caring and sacrifice for those we love. These moments seem more like vamping than anything else, and since the movie relies mostly on humor and splatter effects, their place in it all is questionable.

In the midst of this, we get a bizarre musical duet, and then some disco dancing and even a light show -- with a nod (intentional or not) to everything from Moose Murders to Piranha. The final 20 minutes include the real gore fest, nudity, and a gross-out finale complete with requisite last shot that, under better circumstances, would indicate a sequel or two. I rather doubt that possibility, but -- hey -- you never know!.

Made more for the hard-and-fast cult aficionado rather than a mainstream horror/comic-horror audience, Love in the Time of Monsters is available now on DVD and in other formats. Click here to start the ball rolling. 

Marjane Satrapi jumps genres, Ryan Reynolds grows ever more versatile with THE VOICES

"Have you been taking your medicine?" This question--asked of Jerry (Ryan Reynolds in yet another of his many excellent, versatile, and likely-to-be-overlooked performances) by his therapist (Jacki Weaver)--hangs over the new movie THE VOICES like a shroud. The answer is always no, and the result, while pretty awful, is also the reason the film exists. Jerry, you see, is one of those borderline personalities kept in check by medication but capable of who-knows-what when he goes off it. Who-knows-what is exactly what we get in this very funny, bizarre, surprising, alternately gory and subdued genre-jumper that looks at mental illness from a variety of angles -- most of them nothing quite like we've previously seen. Sure, we've had a number of comic killer/slasher/thriller movies, but this one's something else. It takes a look at insanity from a different perspective.

Director Marjane Satrapi (shown at left, who gave us the animated Persepolis and the even better Chicken With Plums) usually has a hand in the screen-writing. That she did not in this case may have something to do with the movie's jarring notes, and yet this jarring may be what enables the whole thing to work as well as it does. How the fantasy of insanity knocks up against reality is part of the movie's point, and Ms Satrapi shows it to us via some interesting visual and audial counterpointing. It isn't simply that Jerry converses with his pets -- a kindly dog and a nasty cat -- when he's off his meds; notice the look and the cleanliness of his home with and without those pills, particularly once the carnage begins. Satrapi doesn't push things, but she does enable them. And the screenplay, from Michael R. Perry, keeps the plot on point with decent dialog and an arc that goes where we dearly wish it wouldn't, though we know it must.

That the movie succeeds as well as it does rests on the broad-enough shoulders of Mr. Reynolds (above and below), who, with his cutie-pie face and great body, makes a very appealing hero who can then turn scary on a dime. Further, he does all the animal voices -- quite a range! -- and even sings and dances, too. Move over, Hugh Jackman.

In the supporting cast are a number of good actress, from Ms Weaver to Gemma Arterton (the head being fed, above, as the co-worker on whom Jerry has a crush) and Anna Kendrick (below, as another co-worker who has a crush on him).

Reynolds keeps us rooting for Jerry beyond all wisdom and hope, even as events turn darker and nastier. The filmmaker manages to hold things together, sometimes shakily, but that is also part of the bizarre fun. Perhaps it takes someone who grew up in Iran to show us America so bluntly -- in day-glo pastels for the way we imagine and/or want things to be, and then earth, blood and shit tones as reality sets in.

As I say, as many so-called comedy shockers as you may have already encountered, you'll probably not have seen something comparable to The Voices -- which seems to spin near-gold out of the very straw of its occasional missteps.

The movie, from Lionsgate and running 104 minutes, opens this Friday, February 6, at an AMC theater in ten cities: Atlanta, Chicago, Denver, Detroit, Houston, Miami, Philadelphia and Phoenix. Here in NYC, it will play the AMC Empire 25, and in the L.A. area, look for it at AMC's Citywalk Stadium 19. Simultaneously, it will be available via VOD, as well.

For a VERY good time, stream Álex de la Iglesia's WITCHING & BITCHING

Feminism (in a pretty odd manner, I grant you), parenting, horror, comedy, and Spain's current economic crisis make wonderfully strange bedfellows in Álex de la Iglesia's newest genre jumper, the delightfully wicked and funny WITCHING & BITCHING. De la Iglesia, pictured below, has always been a kind of throwback -- to genres and decades past -- yet he does this with such enjoyment and full-out capacity to entertain that his movies are often near-irresistible because they are so much fun. This new one certainly is.

The filmmaker is in fine fettle as he tells the tale of a gold heist gone terribly, hilariously awry, and a "getaway" that takes our rather feeble-minded heroes into the home of a coven of witches who are planning a very big and well-attended bar-be-cue bash, with our boys providing the main dish. In that getaway car is our hero (hot guy, Hugo Silva, below, and yes he's dressed as Jesus Christ: costuming is part of the fun of the opening scene)-- separated from his wife and constantly bitching about her behavior (men against women is a very prominent theme here), with the director coming down on neither side -- who brings his little boy to the heist, in order to spend more quality time with the kid.

Also along for the ride is the hero's not-too-swift assistant, whom he barely knows and who spends his time complaining about his uber-sexy girlfriend and his having to perform sexual acts far too often; the driver whose cab the two robbers have hijacked; and that cab's poor passenger, who only wants to get to a nearby city because of a possible job opportunity. In Spain's current economy, your heart will go out to this terribly put-upon passenger.

The witches are a nasty, funny and -- in one case, Carolina Bang (above)-- gorgeous, and their leader is played by the fabulous Spanish actress Carmen Maura (center, left, below), who brings her usual vitality and crazy specificity to the role. The men here are often so misogynistic that the movie can't help but seem feminist with men this stupid, and yet de la Iglesias balances things out by having the witches brand of feminism so crudely anti-male and over-the-top (the movie's "monster" is indeed something to see) that it keeps you quite off balance.

The special effects are so bound into the story told here that they seem both amazing and old-fashioned, and the filmmaker's sense of fun and frolic manages to overwhelm everything in its path. Overall, in fact, at this point in their careers, I'd have to rate de la Iglesias slightly above Guillermo del Toro so far as genuinely effective, thought-provoking and entertaining movies are concerned. Witching & Bitching -- from IFC Midnight, running 113 minutes, and which was called Las brujas de Zugarramurdi in its original language -- became available to stream on Netflix only yesterday, October 14, so watch it soon and weigh in with your opinion.

Stream a horror hoot w/ rapist villain: the Lucky McKee/Chris Siverston ALL CHEERLEADERS DIE

Back in 2011, anyone fortunate (and strong) enough to sit through Lucky McKee & writer Jack Ketchum's one-of-a-kind horror tale, The Woman, found themselves watching a film that -- due to its theme (the male prerogative gone bananas) and execution (sterling) -- immediately entered the pantheon of horror classics. Mr McKee is back this year with lighter fare -- ALL CHEERLEADERS DIE -- on which he collaborated with Chris Siverston. The theme is again the nasty rise of masculine entitlement, specifically that of the very timely situation of sports stars who abuse and rape women, but the handling here is satirical, funny and loosey-goosey as anything you're likely to see.

While the filmmakers' story (that's McKee above, right, with Siverston) is handled with wit, humor and bite (metaphorical and literal), the villain remains the male abuser -- a figure of appealing sexiness who slowly morphs into an uber-creep sprouting manifold entitlement and zero remorse -- played nastily and well by Tom Williamson, shown below and at bottom. Mr. McKee, I warrant, is a feminist filmmaker.

The movie begins as a kind of mockumentary in which a student journalist follows around a head cheerleader, who explains in an hilariously loony fashion how her school/cheerleading/love life works. This segment ends rather abruptly with a dark and funny shock, and we're off to the races.

What initially begins as a comedy satire becomes a story of man/woman revenge, and then -- thanks to the school Wiccan (a creepy/pretty Sianoa Smit-McPhee, below) doing some casting of stones -- morphs into a supernatural tale in which our group of suddenly dead cheerleaders comes back to life to wreak some real revenge. Except it ain't that easy because our football star/villain proves a little too smart/nasty to be put down.

There is a rather high silliness quotient here, but McKee and Siverston manage to keep things moving so fast and furiously that we can pretty much accept it all and go with the rapid flow. Visually, the film is fun -- colorful (lots of red blood, as you might expect, but many other pretty colors, too) with some nice lighting effects.

The acting is unusually good for this sort of film, with each of the cheerleaders effectively standing out in her own way. Brook Butler (above, with Michael Bowen) is terrifically funny, subtle and sexy as blond bimbo Tracy, while the quite beautiful Caitlin Stasey (below) makes a properly confused and conniving heroine bent on somehow doing the right thing.

Older/younger sisters (played by Amanda Grace Cooper, below, and Reanin Johannink) complete the quartet of dead-alives, each with her own pretty-colored, body-embedded crystal.

All Cheerleaders Die is simply too all-over-the-place to have ever been a mainstream horror hit. But for those who have a taste for this sort of flashy, funny, fun and gore that offers a nicely propulsive forward thrust, you should not be disappointed.

The movie can be seen now via Netflix streaming and other digital venues, as well as on DVD.