Hey, eye scream man
See No Evil
Well, looky here, the WWE (it’s a wrestlin’ thang) has branched out and gone into making B-movies. And surprisingly enough, See No Evil is actually not half bad. Unfortunately, it’s not exactly half good, either.
If (like the director) you’re curious as to how many different ways an eyeball can be filmed being plucked/gouged/knocked from its orbit, pop this film up one popcorn-box score. A very bloody box of some seriously soggy popcorn. Popcorn that doesn’t exactly pop out of the box, but plops. Call it a box of neo-Neapolitan eye scream (it helps to know your Italian horror film tropes). Ick. Personally, I’ve reached the point where I view the body count genre as nothing more than softcore porno for nihilists.
Speaking of porn, does the name of director Gregory Dark ring a bell? Or, say, the Dark Brothers? Oh, you are so busted (and there you were sneering at B-movies). Here, the Dark One finally makes his break from the sordid world of porn into the, well, sordid world of stalk-n-slash/hack/pluck movies. And he does a damn fine job at it, too. That is, if you have a fondness for desaturated film stock, swooshing sound effects and stylized camera shenanigans. I know I do.
The screenplay at work here is strictly Horror 101: A bunch of fresh young faces are trapped in an Old Dark House as a seemingly unstoppable killer lurks throughout the hidden passageways as he picks them off one-by-one. Zoinks! The template really hasn’t changed all that much since 1927’s The Cat and the Canary, only this time around the kids are wannabe stone-cold thug hardbodies on furlough from “juvie” to help clean up a burned-out old hotel. Jinkies, even! But little do they know that there lurks a killer behind the walls ready and more than willing to cross the teases and dot their eyes. Ruh-roh!
Extra credit also goes to the scribe for exhibiting a merry sense of irony, as evidenced in the ultimate fate of the vegan PETA activist. It’s funny and messed up in the same dying breath. Hey, I’m not giving anything away here, she’s a redhead. Redheads never make the closing credits of these films. You know that. If you don’t, you’re not paying attention. Not only that: She’s a virgin. Virgins are the new whores of a different color in contemporary horror’s death-bait picking-off order.
Double extra credit also goes to who actually does make it. Mr. Dark? Your dark background is showing.
Although ultimately he ends having those extra credits demoted to the lower case because … no skin. Seriously. Dude, you’re a former porn director making an R-rated horror film. WTF?
And don’t bail on the end credits.