The Haunting in Connecticut: First Preview

The Haunting in Connecticut is based on the story of the Snedeker family's alleged encounter with the paranormal. The story was also featured in the book In A Dark Place by Ray Garton and an episode of the Discovery Channel series A Haunting. The film was directed by Peter Cornwell and filmed in Teulon, Manitoba, Canada.

The horrifying tale begin when Sara (Virginia Madsen) and Peter (Martin Donovan) Campbell's son Matt (Kyle Gallner) is diagnosed with cancer, they uproot their family to a home in Southington, Connecticut where they would be near a hospital for his treatment. As the family settles into their new home, which turns out to be a former mortuary, Matt grows increasingly disturbed by paranormal activity that seems to inhabit and possess the house. At a loss to help her frightened family, his mother turns to an enigmatic priest (Elias Koteas) who appears to rid the house of its ghosts-- until the boy's condition takes a sudden and unexplained turn for the worse and their lives are put in grave danger.

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Lake Mungo: Review

Story: Sixteen-year-old ALICE PALMER drowns while swimming in the local dam. When her body is recovered and a verdict of accidental death returned, her grieving family buries her. The family then experiences a series of strange and inexplicable events centered in and around their home. Profoundly unsettled, the Palmers seek the help of psychic and parapsychologist, RAY KEMENY. Ray discovers that Alice led a secret, double life. A series of clues lead the family to Lake Mungo where Alice's secret past emerges. Lake Mungo is a mystery, a thriller and a ghost story.

Reviewed by: By RUSSELL EDWARDS (Variety)

Ghostly shenanigans are dryly delivered in the ambitious, restrained and well-mounted Oz mockumentary "Lake Mungo." A 65-minute slow burn to one impactful scare, pic brims with ideas along the way. Joel Anderson's feature bow falls short of Lynchian labyrinth, but his collaboration with talented lenser John Brawley is an atmospheric gem that signals clear potential for bigger and darker things. Pic could be difficult to market unless auds are willing to fall for the "Blair Witch" stunt twice, but will make a classy entry in fantasy events or fest sidebars. Local release date is currently undecided.

The credit sequence is illustrated by spooky Victorian-era B&W photos that hint at spiritualism, with teenage Alice Palmer (Talia Zucker) fearfully speaking of impending, but unspecified, events in v.o. When the pic begins in earnest, narrative uses faux TV news and docu interview footage with Alice's parents, Russell (David Pledger) and June (Rosie Traynor), and brother Mathew (Martin Sharpe), to reveal Alice drowned in a lake (not the titular lake, however) near the family's home in the country town of Ararat.

Family members and friends outline their memories of what transpired in the days between Alice's disappearance and the retrieval of her body. Soon, Mathew's already evident interest in photography and cinematography (his video camera supplying some of the background material for the docu-within-the-mocku) begins to consume him.

When a murky figure turns up in photos taken around the scene of Alice's death, Mathew sets up his vidcam to see if he can capture the phantom on video, and a ghost resembling Alice is evident in playback.

The mock-docu framework comes dangerously close to becoming an overexposed conceit when Anderson slips in some unexpected plot reversals. A couple of these enrich the narrative but others suggest Anderson didn't know when enough was enough. Nevertheless, pic's structure shows that, despite some exploratory dead ends, helmer had a very precise idea of what he wished to achieve overall.

A substantial amount of the movie is shot on handycams and mobile phones in often under-lit locations, with even an early sequence on Super-8 for no apparent reason. Helmer makes smart use of 16mm for interview sequences, and of glorious 35mm for time-lapse sequences. Latter are well-served by Fernando Corona's moody music, which complements the main score by David Paterson. Combination imbues pic with a visual grace and restful pace that enhance the plethora of edgier, video formats.

Thesps were given plot points to hit, but no actual script, and it shows. Actors improvise well enough but frequently use language inconsistent with their characters.

Sound design by Craig Carter is impressive. Title refers to a dry lake 500 miles west of Sydney that's archeologically and geologically significant.

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14 Beyond: The First Preview

Thai based movie site Deknang recently had added one poster that looks like a teaser one to a possible sequel of 2006 Thai blockbuster psychological thriller "13 Beloved" (Thai: 13 เกมสยอง or 13 Game Sayong, also 13: Game of Death). "13 Beloved" was No. 1 in Thai cinemas on opening weekend and it was hailed critically as well, with the Bangkok Post's Kong Rithdee calling it a "smart, ambitious commercial film" with shortcomings that "are the results of risk-taking rather than of incompetence."
Maggie Lee, writing for Hollywood Reporter, called 13 Beloved "one of those accomplished suspense thrillers that mount the tension stage by stage without running out of steam at the end, it is also an unyieldingly cynical exploration of the human heart of darkness with an oedipal climax that makes it a field-day for Freudians."
A short film prequel, "12 Begin," was also made as part of the film's pre-release promotional campaign. It was shown in limited screenings at SF Cinema City theaters. A sequel called "14 Beyond" has actually being planned and with this poster, it seems they have finally made it happen.

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The Fatality: Review

By Ho Yi
Staff reporter of Taipei Times

LANGUAGE:
In Mandarin and Thai with Chinese and English subtitles

RUNNING TIME: 97 MINUTES

Touted as Asian horror’s first Thai/Taiwanese collaboration, The Fatality aims to tap the international reputation of Thailand’s renowned ghost cinema. But the film turned out a rudderless befuddling mess, perhaps because of the curiously large number of directors involved.

The film begins with He Zhi-rong (Wu Ke-qun), a grubby-looking man who has lost the will to live and drifts aimlessly through the streets of Taipei. After attempting suicide He mysteriously wakes up in a hospital in Thailand as a man named Asanee. Assisted by Stanley (Matt Wu), a doctor who initially seems unconcerned about his patient’s welfare, He gradually settles into the life of Asanee and soon has everything that he didn’t in his previous life: a beautiful wife, Nakun (Pichanart Sakhakorn), and a stable job as a public servant.

Life is good until Asanee starts seeing ghosts and other supernatural sights. He realizes that by the power invested in a birthmark on his arm, he is fated to seal death certificates for the soon-to-be deceased in an office-like space within the ghost world, which he can access because of his supernatural powers.

It doesn’t take long before Asanee, who has become the bureaucratic incarnation of the Grim Reaper, begins abusing his power by taking the lives of terminally ill patients who beg for his help to end their suffering. Meanwhile, Nakun secretly plots against her husband with her lover while the omniscient Stanley waits to come to He’s rescue.

Audiences are likely to starting fidgeting in their seats 10 minutes into this film, filled with the unsettling feeling that they are watching a movie made up of nothing more than far-fetched plot twists and dull images that barely support the narrative. The viewer begins to question whether even one of The Fatality’s oversized ensemble of directors had any sense of how to construct a story.

Looking either sullen or bewildered throughout the film, the performances from Mando-pop singer Wu Ke-qun, Taiwanese actor Matt Wu and Sakhakorn of Thailand are consistently dull.

A word of advice to aspiring directors in the music video and television commercial business such as Kuang Shen: before venturing into cinema, think twice about your goals and, at the very least, develop a directing methodology that suits feature films.

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My Bloody Valentine: Second Preview

The second short trailer of the upcoming horror remake "My Bloody Valentine 3D" has been arrived. The marketing behind the movie is looks like heavily (over?) promoting the 3D gimmick... It should maybe focus on the plot. The awesome news is that this is definitely getting an R rating - and considering that then, yes, I can’t think of a more fun date movie. Blood and guts with modern day 3-D tech? Check the trailer after the break

My Bloody Valentine 3D is a 2009 remake of the 1981 Canadian slasher film of the same name. The film will be directed and edited by Patrick Lussier, a long-time horror editor and director of "Dracula 2000" also "White Noise 2: The Light". the film stars Jensen Ackles (Supernatural), Jaime King with Kerr Smith, will have a 3-D theatrical release on January 16, 2009. The story is revolves around Tom Hanniger (Ackles), who returns to his hometown on the tenth anniversary of the Valentine's night massacre that claimed the lives of 22 people. Instead of a homecoming, however, Tom finds himself suspected of committing the murders, and it seems like his old flame (King) is the only one will believes he's innocent.

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Epitaph: Review

Review by: Ulises (Quiet Earth)
Rating: 8 out of 10

The Bottom Line: A beautifully shot and choreographed Korean horror flick that certainly elevates the genre but also stays predictably true to it.

The Jung Brothers’ Epitaph has, apparently, drawn rave reviews from critics worldwide. And when you look at this film from a purely cinematographic point of view, it’s not hard to see why. This is a movie that does away with the murky shots, the B+ movie production values, and the occasionally campy aspects of not just Asian horror, but horror in general. When you think about it, horror isn’t exactly the most respected cinematic genre, all too often relegated to the fringes of mainstream tastes, embraced by folks like us who think there’s nothing wrong with blood, guts, gore, and the occasional chain rattling.

Epitaph is what a horror movie would look like if horror films were regular participants at the Academy Awards. Because the Jung Brothers have crafted a three-part, interwoven ghost story that presents some of the most beautiful cinematography and surreal expressionism to ever grace the genre. It elevates Asian horror to a new level of respectability, separating itself from the usual Red Shoes, Ghost, Ju-On, and Ringu fare by treating its subject matter with a poetic visual aesthetic and melancholic sensibility.

Unfortunately, it never really breaks free from the very horror conventions it’s separating itself from. And although its three separate stories are compelling in their own right, as an interwoven narrative, they confound and confuse, and they rob us of any chance of caring too much about any one character.

Epitaph is, essentially, a flashback to Korea in 1942 under Japanese occupation. As an elderly college professor learns that Anseng Hospital is about to be demolished, he flashes back to the time in his life where, he says, his life ended for all intents and purposes. Thus, we are taken back to his life as a young intern in Anseng. And thus, we are introduced to story one.

The first story involves Dr. Jung Nam, a wet-behind-the-ears intern who’s got a little problem. Not only is he assigned morgue duty for a week, but it turns out he’s been forced into an arranged marriage. With, of all people, the hospital director’s daughter. Like all youngsters being told they’re going to marry a person they only met once when they were kids, Jung Nam isn’t exactly jumping at the prospect. But when a suicide victim is brought in—a lovely young woman, an angel, as one of his colleagues describes her—something stirs in Jung Nam’s numbed mind. Fascination, for one. He admires the dead girl’s wedding band. He admires her beauty, and the fact that her corpse isn’t aging. He draws a portrait of her. And he visits her each night. So in other words, he starts acting like any well-adjusted, non-necrophiliac wouldn’t.How will this story end? Let’s just say, the arranged marriage is going to happen one way or another.

Story two involves a small girl named Asako, who’s been in a terrible car accident and brought into the hospital, blood-soaked, screaming, yet miraculously unhurt. Unfortunately, the car accident killed her mother and Japanese stepfather. But when Asako starts having grisly visions of her dead mother every night, another doctor, Soo In, becomes her guardian angel. As an empathetic survivor of his own childhood trauma, Soo In tries to discover the root of Asako’s horrific visions, and her crippling sense of guilt. She insists the accident, and the death of her parents, was her fault. How could it be, though? She’s just this sweet, adorable girl.

How will this story end? Well, let’s just say, Dr. Soo In probably wants to rethink his whole “I’m going to be a loving father figure to this poor girl because she obviously loved her mom and dad, especially her dad” approach.

Story three involves a serial killer who begins by butchering a Japanese soldier, then kills a young Korean soldier, then kills a nurse. The local Japanese Army commander wants answers from the doctors at Anseng working the autopsies, a married couple, Dr. In Young Kim and Dr. Dong Won Kim. But it’s not long before Dong Won suspects his wife, In Young, is the serial killer. You see, there’s something kind of odd about her: she doesn’t cast a shadow. And when he stumbles upon the horrific truth of things, it becomes a race against time to stop the next killing. Or so it seems.

How will this story end? Well, let’s just say, you know what they say about the main thematic differences between Korean horror and Japanese horror? Yeah, that.

So how do these three stories relate? Aside from the fact that they all happen at Anseng, and that Jung Nam is witness to all of them, and that their respective events casually intersect with the events of the other two stories, not much. And therein lies one of the problems with Epitaph. On the one hand, its non-chronological narrative presents its usual vertigo of confusion so endemic to Asian horror. Starting off in 1979, the film then goes back to 1942, but then each story takes place one day before the previous, and so it’s hard to keep track of what’s happening when and how it’s relating to the current story.

The confusing chronological sequence isn’t the only aspect of Asian horror Epitaph recycles. In an unfortunate way, films like Epitaph are victims of the genre’s success. Because while the long-haired female specters popping out from dark, creepy corners were creepy as hell the first few times, now, they’ve become formulaic and standard. And if you’ve seen Korean horror films such as A Tale of Two Sisters and Red Shoes, or if you’ve read David Kalat’s book, “J-Horror: The Definitive Guide to The Ring, The Grudge and Beyond,” then one of Epitaph’s big twists isn’t just predictable, but a bit corny once it tries to take it to another level. So while Epitaph’s few scares are decent, you’ve probably seen them both before.

Still, Epitaph isn’t your typical “let’s make you crap your pants with fear” Asian horror flick. It’s a ghost story that explores the bonds we keep between ourselves, and the forces of fate that determine how those bonds will be maintained. It’s a tragic exploration of love and guilt, loss and companionship, and of the supernatural forces that sometimes play a hand in them. So the scares are secondary anyway; the film’s real emotional drive is its narrative of loss, and it relies on its somber, poetic cinematography to make that narrative felt.

Whether it’s a dissonant contrast of red rose petals against a pale white snowfall, or an open book dream sequence where we follow the characters from different perspectives, or a surreal portrayal of In Young and Dong Won’s eternal-honeymoon domestic life, Epitaph infuses each scene with real emotion and melancholic beauty. With a color palate more reminiscent of epic set pieces, and a directorial style more American Beauty than American Gothic, Epitaph doesn’t even look like a horror movie. And maybe it’s not trying to be. For example, Asako’s story is probably the scariest, yet it’s also the most touching. The film tries to horrify us when it reveals the truth about Asako’s actions, but it tries to tug at our heart’s strings with its final, bittersweet resolution between mother and daughter. Horror films aren’t supposed to scare you one moment, then make you want to cry the next.But there, again, lies a problem, and maybe it was the biggest problem I had with the movie. Even if I could agree that, with another viewing or two, the confusing chronology and intersecting storylines would make sense, I think the three stories spread our emotions pretty thin. And by that, I mean that it’s really hard to get emotionally invested in any of the main characters, because we simply don’t get to see them long enough. With each of the stories taking up an almost equal amount of screen time, each character—Jung Nam, Asako, Soo In, and In Young and and Dong Won—has precious little time to win our sympathies. Even little Asako can’t fully win us over, because we learn so little about her, and it’s hard to really feel as emotionally invested in her as the story is.

The ending, too, as gripping as it seems it could be, suffers from the film’s attempts to do too much in too little time. Sure, it’s poetic and bittersweet, and sure, it’s emotionally jarring to envision the possibilities it suggests—that the emotional connections between us really do traverse time, space, and even death. But do we care enough about the characters to empathize with their respective losses? I don’t think so.

With its brilliant cinematography and direction, Epitaph certainly elevates Asian horror to a new level of respectability. But in some ways, it can’t escape the conventions of Asian horror it tried to elevate in the first place. And with a confusing three-way narrative that sacrificed character development for scope, even its cinematography can’t hold the film afloat alone. Still, Epitaph is a beautiful film to watch, and an even more beautiful film to contemplate, and certainly recommended for anyone who enjoys Asian horror.

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Thai is still hot with their politic issues and their gory horrors also. Here are some revealing posters for the upcoming Thai gory fest, "Meat Grinder," that probably want to follow the success of "Art of the Devil" trilogy. The film is being made by local movie production house Phranakorn film (who've released some pretty good upper end B-horror movies in the past) and apparently due for release, sometime early in the new year.
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Thirst: Second Preview

Via 24fps, here is the new synopsis for Park Chan-wook's "Thirst." Hey, there's also some behind-the-scenes footage of Park directing and showing off some Thirst storyboards for those newshounds over at CNN like you can check below or here. "Thirst" is currently slated to open in Korea next summer, exactly on May 09.

Synopsis: Sang-hyun, a small town beloved and admired priest who serves devotedly at a hospital, volunteers for the new infectious disease, F.I.V.’s, vaccine development experiment and goes to Africa. The experiment fails and Sang-hyun gets infected by F.I.V. but he ends up being miraculously cured and returns home. News of Sang-hyun’s cure from F.I.V. spreads and people start believing he has the gift of healing and flock to receive his blessing. From those who come to him, Sang-hyun meets a childhood friend named Kang-woo and his wife Tae-ju. Sang-hyun is immediately drawn to Tae-ju. One day, Sang-hyun coughs up blood, dies, and comes back to life the next day as a vampire. Tae-ju is strangely drawn to Sang-hyun, turned vampire, and they have a secret love affair. Sang-hyun asks Tae-ju to run away with him but she turns him down. Instead, they plot to murder Kang-woo...

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Written: Preview

Critics often write about the viewer’s experience of a film, where the actor enables him to “get inside a character”. But is this real empathy or is the relationship the audience has with fictional characters more akin to subjugation or sadistic manipulation? These and other issues are examined in this self-reflexive South Korean film conceived as a complex meditation on the identity of the character in a fictional story. Man A (Lee Jin-seok) wakes up to find he has an injury, he’s in a bath in a strange place, from where he is directed to another place against his will. He then encounters the alter ego of his creator, the actor who plays him, who enters the story as a parasite, and he meets other characters along the way whose own goals are also unrelated to the prescribed screenplay. The film was made in a small studio which, itself, becomes a set inside the film; it reflects upon all levels of the filmmaking process, from the script and actual shooting, to the given film style and the “eye” of the camera.

South Korean director Kim Byung-Woo uses intense cut-ups and surreal environments, to create a Kafkaesque metafilm about a man lost in the blur between fiction and reality. While protagonist A is trying to find his way through a brightly colored cinematic world, the director is portrayed on screen, searching for the missing script that contains the production’s end. At the same time, the writer has written herself into the plot, to warn A against the stalking actor portraying him. With clever acting and a thought-provoking script, the art of moviemaking is dissected to the very core. As a confused A asks his creator and writer: Are you writing me, or am I being written by you? Indeed.

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