SLA at Fantasia: ‘Oddity’ Review

Well, it looks like Fantasia saved the best for last! We closed out the festival this year with Oddity, a new horror movie from writer-director Damian McCarthy (Caveat) that I’m hoping blows up as much as Longlegs did. It’s deserving of all the hype Longlegs had and then some. I haven’t felt this much palpable tension and in-your-bones dread in a movie theatre since Skinamarink. But whereas that was an experimental Rorschach blot of a movie with little plot, Oddity is a genuine, old-school scary movie. I won’t spoil too many plot details, because I think you should try to go into this one as blind (pun intended) as possible. I’ll just say that the story involves a house, a murder, a blind medium who can commune with objects, and a creepy human-sized wooden doll (that is used to exquisite effect). I’ll say it right off the bat: this is my favourite horror movie of the year so far and one of my favourite horror movies in recent memory. As a pretty seasoned horror viewer, I sometimes feel like a buzzkill when friends or people I know heap praise on new horror releases that often just don’t do it for me. But I can’t remember the last time I felt this enamored of a modern-day horror movie. I really just loved everything about it, from the excellent performances (especially from Carolyn Bracken) to the sound design to the narrative choices and structure to its unabashed oddness. It all just works. Admittedly, I am a sucker for a supernatural horror story, and I love ghost stories in particular. I think they can be some of the most effective vehicles through which to not only scare the daylights out of people but also tickle the parts of our psyches that are rooted in the most primal instincts and emotions we have. A ghost story isn’t just cheap thrill or senseless gore—it’s a story, after all. And we are storytelling animals first and foremost. The immediate touchstone for me here is Mike Flanagan’s The Haunting of Hill House and The Haunting of Bly Manor. No one understands the real and figurative power of a ghost story better than Flanagan. Watching Oddity, I felt a kinship between the film and Flanagan’s work in tone, atmosphere, and subject matter. But Oddity is also very much its own thing, and it feels like a breath of fresh air in today’s horror landscape. The movie is supernatural and spooky in a way that feels reminiscent of the heyday of 2000s horror, but it’s also darker and weirder and still modern-feeling. And it’s very funny! There were so many moments that had our whole theatre laughing, but the most brilliant part was that none of the film’s dark humour detracted from the tension or scares. Let’s talk about the scares, because I’m sure everyone wants to know just how scary this movie is. Obviously, this is highly subjective, but I felt genuinely on edge watching Oddity in a way that is rare for me. Part of that is that the movie makes masterful use of jump scares. While “jump scare” has become almost a dirty word among horror aficionados—connoting a cheap and easy way to scare an audience—there is nothing quite like the involuntary and visceral bodily reaction of fear that a well-executed jump scare can provide. Even being able to predict when or how they might happen here didn’t dilute their effectiveness. It all comes down to execution, really. McCarthy does a phenomenal job of building up tension, then releasing it, in ways both expected and unexpected. In particular, the camera work, editing, and sound design all work incredibly well together to play on audience expectations and craft a sense of dread that lingers well after the movie has played its hand. It’s that slow build up of anticipation that really gets to me. One of the scariest parts of Oddity, I think, is how it uses a supernatural lens to play on everyday fears. The idea of feeling unsafe in my own home, for example, is one of the most terrifying things imaginable to me. It’s why haunted house and home invasion stories are so effective. And it’s the kind of thing that plays on the imagination after you get home from a good horror movie—being afraid to turn out the lights and go to bed, thinking you’ve seen a figure looming at the end of a darkened hallway at night, not being able to sleep in your own bed. These are the kinds of feelings that Oddity evokes. And it does so with just a handful of well-executed elements. A setting, a setup, props, music, camerawork—but McCarthy knows that the mind will finish the job and build up fear and anticipation and dread all on its own. This movie fully pulled me into its world and kept me on the edge of my seat. I think it’s exactly what I’ve been missing from horror for a while. Verdict Everything here is just executed to perfection. Right from the opening sequence, I knew we were in for a brilliant ride, and Oddity did not disappoint. But don’t take my word for it. Go and see Oddity for yourself, ideally in a cinema with a crowd, if possible! If you’re into oddities, ghost stories, and old-school supernatural horror with modern sensibilities and a dark sense of humour, you may fall in love with Oddity as much as we did. Shout out, also, to the crowd at Fantasia, because nothing gets me more jazzed about cinema than hearing a room of people laugh, start, and even scream in unison. The crowd and the energy could not have been more perfect for this one, amplifying the tension and making the release all the more effective. What a phenomenal way to close out our very first (and most certainly not last) Fantasia Festival.

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SLA at Fantasia: Azrael – Movie Review

Azrael, directed by E.L. Katz (Cheap Thrills) and written by Simon Barrett (You’re Next, The Guest), is the most hard-hitting movie I’ve seen at Fantasia so far, and it was one of my most-anticipated, too, solely because I saw the words “post-apocalyptic” and “Samara Weaving” in its plot summary. I didn’t need to know anything else. Weaving impressed me immensely in The Babysitter and Ready or Not, and she continues to cement herself as a bona fide scream queen with Azrael. As mentioned, the movie is set in a post-apocalyptic world, and follows a young woman, played by Weaving, as she fends off a cult of mute zealots from which she escaped. And when I say “mute,” I mean that the movie contains almost no dialogue, as most of the characters can’t speak. That experimental slant makes Azrael a masterclass in “show, don’t tell,” and in trusting your audience. Without dialogue or exposition, we’re left to put together the pieces of who the characters are, what relationship they have to one another, and what world they occupy, without having it explicitly spelled out. That’s a really difficult thing to pull off. It takes guts to make a movie with no dialogue (and the little dialogue we do get is unintelligible), and that conceit could very easily have been mishandled. But it mostly works here. There’s no exposition, except for what we see and can interpret from what’s happening on screen. We don’t get any insight into what the characters are thinking and feeling, except for what they convey through their facial expressions. That’s a testament to the cast, but especially to Weaving, who has to carry the movie through its 85-minute runtime and absolutely knocks it out of the park. When introducing the film, Fantasia’s artistic director described Weaving’s performance as “utterly feral,” and there’s really no better way to describe it. She goes for broke, and gives us warmth, fear, desperation, exhaustion, rage, and more, all without uttering a word.   The rest of the cast is good too, but someone like Nathan Stewart-Jarrett (Misfits, Utopia—a show I’m still mourning a decade later) feels underutilized here. This is partly why I said “mostly” earlier. While I found the lack of dialogue to be mostly effective, I do think it inherently limits how much information we, as an audience, can glean. That’s not necessarily a bad thing in itself, because it makes the world-building a bit more evocative and ambiguous, rather than being over-explained. But it also limits how much we can connect with the characters, and it makes a lot of the secondary and tertiary characters feel quite thin. Stewart-Jarrett, for example, plays Weaving’s love interest, and while the two do a pretty good job selling the relationship, there’s simply not enough here to really make us care. You can learn a lot about characters from how they speak, but we don’t even know our characters’ names until the end credits. You can kind of assume Weaving’s protagonist is the titular Azrael, but it’s not certain till those credits roll. It can also be hard to maintain interest and attention when there’s no dialogue to hang your attention onto, so the film has to make up for it in other ways. Some of those work really well, like giving us a compelling actor as a lead or well-crafted sequences of action or tense horror. But the dark, same-y forest setting (the film was shot in Estonia)—while often beautiful and creepy and fitting for a post-apocalyptic horror—doesn’t really add too much visual interest for someone like me, at least, to stay engaged with. I can only speak for myself, and maybe it was just my state of mind that particular night, but I did find my thoughts wandering a bit at times. The movie also felt a bit longer than I expected it to with an 85-minute runtime, and I suspect that has to do with the lack of dialogue to propel things forward. Still, Azrael doesn’t overstay its welcome, and I have to give it credit for committing to the bit. And aside from its dialogue-free conceit, it’s also very committed in other ways. The action is brutal, with some excellent, hard-hitting sequences that are expertly executed. The gore is gruesome, and the creatures are pretty terrifying, with some fantastic make-up and costuming. Oh, yeah, did I forget to mention the creatures? Human cultists aren’t the only bad guys here, as Azrael also has to contend with the crispy, humanoid, flesh-eating monsters that they apparently worship. The sound design also goes very hard. In general, the sound has to do a lot of heavy lifting here, and it’s great. It’s crunchy and impactful, adding to the visceral feel of the movie. Ultimately, despite its flaws, the movie just has a lot of things that are very much my jam: Samara Weaving getting bloody and kicking ass, post-apocalyptic settings, revenge narratives, creepy woods, pulse-pounding action, scary monsters, and religious horror (Azrael, of course, refers to the Angel of Death, which may give you a hint at some of the ideas and imagery the movie is playing with). It’s a squirmy, gory, post-apocalyptic religious cult revenge action horror, starring Samara Weaving, with no dialogue. I’d say that rates pretty damn high on the cool meter. A lot of those elements felt reminiscent of other movies, including, among others, The Descent and Rosemary’s Baby, but I don’t say that as an insult. Those are two of my favourite horror movies, and being reminded of the greats isn’t necessarily a bad thing when the product is this solid. Azrael may not be the most original movie, but originality is overrated anyway. Verdict Azrael isn’t perfect, but it does a lot of things really well, and overall, I thought it was a very effective action-horror. It goes for broke with an experimental dialogue-free script that wouldn’t work nearly as well as it does if not for star Samara Weaving. Weaving is the main

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