April ghouls

Atmospheric indie horror flicks play with sin and scenery

It Follows

I went into “It Follows” knowing almost nothing, though purposefully so. Smoke signals from some horror-loving friends indicated it might be something special, so I just wanted to be surprised. Too often I’ve seen a trailer that went too far, spoiled too much or somehow sapped my enthusiasm to buy what it was selling. And hype in the horror genre can be as overblown as for comedy. Both kinds of films must induce the visceral, involuntary responses of laughter and fear to be successful. The best horror can do both.

“It Follows” is a fairly humorless affair, but its intermittent tension was enough to have me looking over my shoulder. 

After an opening sequence where we quickly learn something wicked kills cute girls, we meet Jay Height (Maika Monroe). On a date at the movies, her boyfriend, Hugh (Jake Weary), recognizes a woman Jay weirdly can’t see. Quickly deciding to leave when Hugh gets freaked out, they go to a secluded locale and have sex. But the post-coital glow is unexpectedly snuffed when Hugh chloroforms Jay into unconsciousness.  

She wakes up tied to a wheelchair. Assuring that he won’t hurt her, Hugh explains how he’s actually really fucked up her immediate plans for staying alive.

Turns out Hugh is stalked by an “it.” “It” can look like anyone—a stranger or someone you know—and “it” invariably follows, bent only on killing. The sex passes on the curse. Hugh had sex with Jay to draw “its” attention away from him (dick move, guy). And she can do the same by having sex with someone else. But if “it” kills Jay, then Hugh is back on the hook for their sin.

Written and directed by David Robert Mitchell (whose debut film, “The Myth of the American Sleepover” did nothing to indicate a turn to straight horror), “It Follows” is a bit of a disappointment for its conventionality. Perhaps that’s because I watched “Spring,” which mixes the horror genre and its expected tropes of sexual consequence ways less predictable.

“It Follows” spreads too little thematic butter over too much toast. ‘Have sex and you die’ isn’t quite enough. Mitchell actually does a good job keeping things moving, though. It does indeed follow, but it never seems to be in a rush.

And the lack of a real internal logic to “it” took me out a little. Invisible to those who don’t have the curse, a physical presence that can kick people’s asses and be shot and bleed, but not die—the beast is explained but given no reason to exist. Only one quick scene really hints at it, but it’s as if Mitchell thought the idea of an unstoppable “shape” was enough. Guess it worked for Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees.

On the upside, the film is gorgeous. Despite essentially being variations on the same scene, it drips with atmosphere, recalling the moody, cross-dissolved, twilight compositions of David Lynch. Mitchell evokes bouts of dream-like tension within his less-than-traditional nod to the ‘80s slasher—helped by a goddamn fantastic John Carpenter-on-acid score from composer Disasterpeace. Performances from Monroe and Keir Gilchrist (as Jay’s childhood first kiss, Paul) are the standouts and do much of the heavy lifting in terms of emotional investment.

Maybe there’s more going on under the surface, but I don’t think so. “It Follows” is a well-made horror throwback that manages to be memorable for almost every reason besides its story.

“It Follows” is playing in Tulsa area theaters.

Spring

There’s been something of an indie horror renaissance for the past couple of years. Films like “You’re Next,” “Cheap Thrills,” “Under the Skin” and “The Babadook” (among many others) prioritize imaginative narratives and more nuanced character development over lazy, big-budget formulas to elicit suspense and scares.

The latest in that line, “Spring,” is a weird little amalgam of romance and the macabre that makes its mark by gamely inverting the genre.

Evan (Lou Taylor Pucci) is a sous chef from California who loses his mother to cancer—and then his job, over a fight with a punk in the restaurant’s bar. A friend persuades Evan to kick around Italy for a couple of weeks to get his head together and heal from the brutal one-two punch.

Staying at a hostel, he falls in with a group of surprisingly endearing British party animals who decide to take a side trip to a stunning seaside fishing village in the shadow of an active volcano. Evan meets Louise (Nadia Hilker)—the proverbial girl in the red dress—who at first tries to seduce him but is driven off when Evan, fearing she’s a hooker, asks for a normal date.

Deciding to pursue Louise (because, damn), Evan gets a job as a farm hand so he can afford to stick around and woo the charming and dead-sexy siren. Spending time together walking the ancient, cobbled lanes, they fall for each other. And when they inevitably go to bed, the world around them grows freakishly fertile (the orange trees on the farm begin to sprout lemons).

But when Evan begins to fall hard, it threatens the dark secret Louise has been hiding.

In a way, I’m not sure “Spring” explains the nature of its beast much better than “It Follows.” But it eases suspension of disbelief more effectively by trying. Thousands of years old, Louise is forced to renew her cells with a homemade serum (she’s been around long enough to study cellular biology), lest they denature and she transforms into any number of bizarre and lethal creatures. Regardless, every 20 years she must get pregnant to renew her life. That scenario has always ended badly for the father.

“Spring” has been called a supernatural “Before Sunrise,” which is apt—though the horror elements include nods to H.P. Lovecraft (seaside villages and girls with tentacles) and the technologically-infused body horror of Cronenberg. It even owes a small debt to Ken Russell’s “Altered States.”

Written by Justin Benson, who co-directs with Aaron Moorhead, “Spring” melds the elements of a romantic drama with its unique take on horror in a way that feels unforced and organic. One scene finds Louise offended at Evan’s unwillingness to tell her about his family. After he discovers what she is, they walk among the excavated ruins of her ancient home to see her parents, still frozen by the volcanic eruption that killed them centuries earlier. It’s a haunting scene that gives weight to their unconventional romance.

Pucci and Hilker make for a scorching couple (no matter how many cats she eats), and they both turn in natural performances that are the heart and soul of the film. The Italian settings are beautifully shot (including some interesting use of drone cinematography), and the soundtrack—featuring contributions by Sigur Rós—provides atmospheric heft, whether in a tender moment or when the blood gushes.

There’s a lot to love about “Spring.” It’s funny and dramatic. It’s sexy and smart and weird. It melds genres into its own cinematic DNA in a way that defies their individual conventions and creates something that feels familiar, yet is entirely one of a kind. a

“Spring” opens April 10 at Circle Cinema.