Review: After Midnight (2019)
Dying relationships are their own kind of exquisite horror and much like horror films, moviegoers are drawn to serious, dramatic stories about relationships in peril. There is an element of voyeurism in it, a kind of an appeal to a desire to place oneself into the drama or at least identify with what is seen. After Midnight (2019) is relationship horror, mashing up a creature feature with a slow burn analysis of why a loving couple begin to split but does that combination work? Yes and no. Aesthetically and thematically, there is a lot to admire about the film After Midnight, but the whole of the project doesn’t quite land.
After Midnight follows Hank, a man who is grappling with the sudden disappearance of his romantic and business partner of ten years for over a month. During this time, between drinking and feeling sorry for himself, Hank finds himself stalked by a monster in the swamps outside his home every night. Directed by Jeremy Gardner (also credited as the writer) and Christian Stella, the film stars Jeremy Gardner as Hank, and Brea Grant as Abby, his missing partner. The film also features Henry Zebrowski and Justin Benson as confidants of Hank and Abby who he struggles to convince of the threat of the monster that attacks each night.
The film’s strengths lie in a number of elements, the central metaphor is a strong one, while the performances and aesthetics are, as a whole, excellent. The film’s linking of Hank’s anxieties and malaise about his relationship to the monster is excellent overall until the point in which is dropped, right around the time of Abby’s return back to their home. From there it becomes a sort of strange novelty that doesn’t really pay off until the end in a surprisingly bleak and hilarious moment. It’s there that the metaphor becomes far too obvious, however; Hank kills the “old Hank” with vigor and extreme prejudice, eager to move onto the next stage of his life and love, whatever it may hold. Despite the presence of a very real monster in the story, however, most of the dread is manifested in a powerfully awkward and frank argument between Hank and Abby near the end of the film. It’s here that the film is at its best and that the monster metaphor is at its most effective: the couple air their grievances, but Hank, unwilling to move forward keeps his hand on his shotgun on his porch, waiting for the monster to attack, not recognizing the monster that his inattentiveness has created. The sequence is slow and oppressive, the camera zooming in as more and more layers of Hank and Abby’s relationship are torn away from the core problem: Abby wants more from life, and Hank is content with things as they are. It’s the most compelling moment in the film and more raw and brutal than any of the few depicted monster attacks.
So much of the film’s success hinges on the performance of Jeremy Gardner and he does a fine job at playing a sulking manchild, which is absolutely necessary given the central tension of the film. He plays drunk well, and even at his most manic, mopey, or sloshed, there is still a sort of charm that persists and helps explain why Hank and Abby have remained together for over a decade, albeit unmarried. Hank is a functioning adult, but Gardner is able to give him that sort of necessary distractedness that plays out in his scenes with his friends; someone who is hearing how to solve his problems, but not really listening to the people who are saying them. Abby, played by Brea Grant, doesn’t get nearly as much to do in the film, but certainly leaves an impact. She is seen, initially, strictly through Hank’s rosy memories, but her sudden return at the midpoint of the film, however, gives her necessary depth by contrast; Hank saw things one way, but Abby introduces a cold, hard reality into the fantasy. Grant’s excellent in both cases, she looks and appears radiant in the memories, someone anyone can fall in love with, but she also plays someone deeply frustrated and bored when reality sets in on her return. It’s a largely thankless role, but she played it with aplomb.
The two other major performances in the film Henry Zebrowski’s Wade, and Justin Benson’s Shane are a little more uneven. Not necessarily bad, but their roles are largely stock, though they do present some fun moments. Zebrowski, for example, comes off as himself rather than a character, as though the role was written for him. The podcaster/comedian, known so heavily for his manic performances, does come off as slightly subdued, as fits the role of “Florida Man becomes Father” that Wade represents. He gets some fun dialogue and a memorable scene where here drinks from a bar mat, but his character does little else but provides a funny sounding-board for Hank’s thoughts and reflects Hank’s anxieties of being a “settled man.” Benson gets the tougher job playing the skeptical realist and a cop, no less, but holds himself well in the role. He is given the necessary role of drumming up conflict for the ending as the worst dinner guest in a film, second to a literal monster, but it works. His character does feel a bit one-note, however, the cold splash of water on Hank’s issues and little else.
The run-down house out near Florida swamps looks excellent, and as a whole, the cinematography puts in work visualizing the issues the film tackles. Hank’s perspective in his memories is quite literally played as angelic with halos of light around Abby. The violent contrast of the house upon his waking, which happens several times in the film, serves to emphasize the grim reality of his life decaying because of his refusal to move on. As for the monster? The design is fun, especially because the film subverts expectations quite a bit when it comes to how much they reveal. Just as one thinks the monster’s fleeting appearances are necessarily constrained by budget, one finds themselves surprised.
The uneven structure of the film is what harms it most, as it can never quite get the combination of creature-feature and relationship drama right. There are flashes where it happens, but overall, for a large portion of the film viewers may forget about the presence of the monster, more consumed by the horror of a dying relationship. When the frayed threads entwine at the conclusion, however, it is too late. Despite those issues, the film accomplishes a lot during an 83-minute runtime. After Midnight is worth a watch and offers some fun moments, some compelling relationship drama, and a cool-looking monster.
(3.5 / 5)
You can watch After Midnight on Shudder.
We’re back again with Goosebumps The Vanishing, episode two. A story too big for one episode, apparently.
Or, maybe this is just a nod to the fact that Stay Out Of The Basement was a two-part episode in the original 1995 show. Either way, after seeing this episode, we could have kept it to one.
The story
We begin this second episode with Anthony investigating the parasitic plant taking over his body. Rather than, I don’t know, going to the hospital, he’s decided to phone a colleague and send her some samples from the bulb he pulls out of his arm with a handheld garden trowel.
Meanwhile, Devin is having his own worries. He’s haunted by what he saw in the sewers. So, he gets CJ to go with him to investigate. What they find is more of the tendrils of the plant that dragged him down through the manhole last episode.
I sure would have liked to see more about that.
Instead, we see Devin pivot to flirting with a newly single Frankie. Because teenage hormones I guess.
Meanwhile, Trey is having a terrible day. First, his girlfriend leaves him. Then, Anthony breaks his car window.
Needing a way to deal with his frustration, Trey decides to break into the Brewers’ basement. There, he starts wrecking up the place. Until he meets the plant creature and has an unfortunate accident.
What worked
The big difference between this episode and the last is the increased gross-out factor. This episode had some straight-up cringy moments. From the tendrils waiving from Anthony’s arm to the whole goat he brings home to feed his new pet, this episode was skin-crawling gross in the best way possible.
The series is called Goosebumps, after all.
What didn’t work
Unfortunately, that’s where my praise ends. This episode, unlike the last, just wasn’t that great.
To start with, there was a lot of unnecessary drama between characters who are not in danger of being eaten by a plant from the inside out.
I especially disliked the focus on the Frankie/Trey/Devin love triangle.
Now, I don’t hate it. This part of the story adds extra emotional depth to the show. We can see why Trey would be especially incensed by his girlfriend falling for the son of the neighbor he’s feuding with. But it would be more enjoyable if it wasn’t so cliche and dramatic.
I hate the way Trey tried to gaslight Frankie. It makes me dislike him when he should be a sympathetic character. I hate how whiny Devin is every time he talks to Frankie. And I hated the impassioned speech Frankie gives after Devin asks her why she was with Trey.
Listen, I understand what we’re going for here. Devin and Cece are not struggling financially. They’re doing alright, and their new friends here in Gravesend are not. We kind of got that without Frankie claiming that her socioeconomic status is why she’s dating a bully and gaslighter. It felt out of place. It felt like pandering. It certainly didn’t feel like something an eighteen-year-old would say. I hated it.
Finally, there was a moment near the end of the episode that irritated me. I don’t want to give too much detail because I wouldn’t dare ruin an R.L. Stine cliffhanger. But, well, it doesn’t make a lot of sense.
I get that we’re watching a show about a carnivorous plant that is going to wreak havoc on this family and neighborhood. I understand the suspension of disbelief. Some might even say I am a little too generous with it. So I can buy into a teenager being absorbed by a plant and turned into a monstrous version of himself.
I can’t buy into what happens at the end of this episode. It doesn’t make sense with the rules established. It certainly doesn’t make any sort of scientific or logical sense. It is a lazy moment meant to further the storyline but threatens the structural integrity of the season.
All in all, this wasn’t the best episode of Goosebumps. But it’s only the second episode. Honestly, the season has plenty of time to go either way.
(2.5 / 5)
So, this is a convoluted post, not going to lie. Because it’s Thriller Nite. And we have to kick it off with a link to Michael Jackson in homage, because he’s the bomb and Vincent Price is the master… (If the following video doesn’t load properly, you can get there from this link.)
The movie monsters always approach so slowly.
Their stiff joints arcing in jerky, erratic movements
While the camera pans to a wide-eyed scream.
It takes forever for them to catch their victims.
Their stiff joints arcing in jerky, erratic movements
As they awkwardly shamble towards their quarry –
It takes forever for them to catch their victims.
And yet no one ever seems to get away.
As they awkwardly shamble towards their quarry –
Scenes shift, plot thickens, minutes tick by endlessly…
And yet no one ever seems to get away.
Seriously, how long does it take to make a break for it?
Scenes shift, plot thickens, minutes tick by endlessly…
While the camera pans to a wide-eyed scream.
Seriously, how long does it take to make a break for it?
The movie monsters always approach so slowly.
So my father used to enjoy telling the story of Thriller Nite and how he’d scare his little sister, my aunt. One time they were watching the old Universal Studios Monsters version of The Mummy, and he pursued her at a snail’s pace down the hallway in Boris Karloff fashion. Both of them had drastically different versions of this tale, but essentially it was a true Thriller Nite moment. And the inspiration for this poem.
For more fun music video mayhem, check out She Wolf here on Haunted MTL. And feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.
Episode six of Dexter Original Sin brings us Dex’s third kill, making him officially a serial killer.
Yay!
The story
This episode dealt with many things. The first, and clearly most interesting, is the kidnapping of Nicky Spencer, the police captain’s son, whom we met a few episodes ago.
This loss has sent the entire police force into an uproar. They need to find the killer fast before Nicky’s found hanging from a bridge.
Unfortunately, Harry’s still on the sidelines for this one, after horribly messing up the case against Levi Reed. He’s instead working with LaGuerta in a case regarding a dead homeless man. Despite the different victims, types of death, and the fact that they don’t appear to be related at all. Except that Dexter believes they are. They are, in fact, the first murderers of a blossoming serial killer. Just like him.
Before Dex can lean into this investigation, though, he’s drug along on a double date with Deb, Sophia and Gio. And here, we see the first shadows of danger from Gio. Shadows that will almost certainly turn into a monster.
What worked
I would first like to acknowledge that, despite my irritations, Gellar did well in this episode. She didn’t have Whedon’like one-liners. She didn’t exist to give snappy comebacks with a side of girl boss.
She looked as though she’d aged. She was serious. She behaved like a real person who felt terrible about what was happening.
And, just to shout out the costume department, she looked washed out. Yes, that is a good thing. Let me explain.
White is not a good color on her. At least not that shade. It made her look bad. This is not something that Sarah Michelle Gellar would choose to wear.
But it is something that Tanya Martin would choose to wear. And I love that. I love when shows and movies let people look bad because they’re more interested in being true to the character and not focusing on everyone looking as hot as possible at all times.
I also want to discuss Gio, Deb’s boyfriend.
Gio scares me. And I think that most women watching this will feel the same way.
Not girls. Not teenagers or even some young women. But adult women, I’m willing to bet, do not like Gio after this episode.
It was the scene at the bar. The part where he got in the face of the guy who spilled Deb’s drink. There was danger in that scene. Gio didn’t want an apology. He didn’t want to make sure Deb was okay. He didn’t even want the drink replaced. He wanted a reason to hurt that stranger. Because at that moment he was furious. And the only way to handle that fury for him was pain.
Gio is a very dangerous man. I’ll be very surprised if this season doesn’t end with Dexter having to take him out.
What didn’t work
At this point, we have a lot going on. We have Nicky’s kidnapping. We have Dexter finding himself as a serial killer. We have the flashback storyline with Laura and Harry. We have the dangerous Gio and the likely in-danger Sophia. And we have these murders of drifters and homeless people that the team is now investigating.
That’s a lot. It’s more than what can be followed comfortably. And that doesn’t even consider the one or two-episode arches like Levi, Nurse Mary or Tony Ferrer. A lot is going on, and a lot to keep track of. And it’s hard to believe, seeing what we’ve seen from this franchise and knowing what we know about how they handle endings, that these are all going to have satisfying endings. Especially since I haven’t heard anything about a season two.
We have four episodes left in this season, and I am expecting the storylines to start heating up. As of right now, we have way too many that don’t have enough to do with each other. But as we get closer to episode ten, I would expect these loose threads to knot together and form a noose around the neck of our dashing Dexter.
(3.5 / 5)
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