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’ve reached the final episode of American Horror Stories, season three. After the ups and downs of the season, I didn’t know what to expect. I felt that we were due a big finish, Killer Queens. But I feared we were in for a big letdown.
As it turns out, The Thing Under The Bed was neither.
The story
We begin our story with a little girl named Mary, who is scared of something under her bed. She sneaks out of her room, only to be caught by her father and sent back to sleep. And of course, there is something horrible waiting for her under her bed.
This scene cuts away to a woman named Jillian. She has strange dreams, including one about Mary. But her husband, Mark, doesn’t want to hear about it. He’s only interested in a little lovemaking because he wants a baby. Jillian doesn’t, which makes total sense because she’s already married to one. But her irritation with her childish husband goes away when he goes away. And by goes away, I mean he’s sloppily devoured by something vicious under their bed.
What worked
In short, this episode just worked. The acting was professional and believable. The cinematography and lighting work were wonderful, adding spooky effects and startling moments without impairing visibility.
Best of all, the story was solid. There were no plotholes to be found. Our main character, Jillian, was relatable and sympathetic.
This was maybe my favorite part of the story. I thought Jillian was a remarkably sympathetic character. She was dealt a hand she never asked for, having her husband slaughtered in their bedroom. I don’t think she missed him, so much as she was afraid of the legal ramifications of being caught with literal blood on her hands.
Then, when it would have been safest for her to just lay low and save up for a good defense attorney, she instead goes into unlikely hero mode. She does her best to save people, putting herself in legal and physical danger. It’s hard not to root for her.
It’s also a little hard not to root for the antagonist, too. I don’t want to ruin the twist for you, so I’m going to tread lightly here. But it’s great when you have an antagonist who might be off their rocker, but also maybe has a point.
What didn’t work
I can only really think of one complaint with this episode. And that is how frequently one character says the word Chickadee. And if you’ve seen the episode, you know what I am talking about.
I get it, he has a pet name for his daughter. It’s adorable. It’s meant to convey that the two of them have a healthy loving relationship and I get it. We all get it. Blind monks get it. But the fact remains that no parent on Earth calls their kid by their pet name every single time they speak an individual sentence to them. It was just too damn much.
All in all, this was a good episode. It was a classic story, turned on its head, told by professionals from start to finish. And I hope that if there is another season, we see more stories like this one. But after the efforts put into this season at large, I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the last we see of American Horror Stories.
(4 / 5)
If you’ve watched enough short-form horror anthology shows, you’ll notice that some stories are mainstays. Each show seems to put on the same sort of episodes, with the occasional surprising storyline that we’ve never (or at least rarely) seen before.
Leprechaun was an example of a repeated story—the story of a greedy thief whose punishment far outweighs the crime.
The story
We begin our story in 1841, with a drunk man leaving the bar one late night. He’s distracted by something glowing at the end of the well. When he reaches down for the glowing thing, he falls in. Moments later, he screams.
We then cut to the modern day. The well is still there, and now it’s surrounded by a dying town. In this town lives a young man named Colin. He’s married, his wife is pregnant, and he’s out of work. Like many of his friends.
Desperate for cash, Colin and his friends decide to rob a bank. They put together an Equate version of Ocean’s Eleven, and break in one night. But, of course, they find that the gold is nothing more than bait. And the creature waiting for them is something they never expected.
What worked
The first thing I want to point out is how real this episode felt. At least to anyone currently living in the same small town they grew up in. These characters felt like guys I went to school with. Guys I would see at the bar.
I appreciated the real anger and frustration these characters are feeling. Especially Colin. He’s bitter, and maybe he has a right to be. He did exactly what he was supposed to do to succeed. He went to school and invested in his career, and yet now he’s out of work and struggling to support his family. I probably don’t need to tell you how that feels. Because of this, we can all kind of understand why he was tempted to rob a bank.
I also want to talk about the fact that this was, as I said, an often-explored story. That can be a bad thing, but it can also be a good thing. This story is told over and over because it’s a good story. A relatable story. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
What didn’t work
That being said, this version didn’t try to do much to break out of the mold.
Because we have seen this story so many times, most of us could tell the story themselves. I would have expected something new, or some twist. But, in the end, the story didn’t bring anything new to the discussion.
Maybe because of this, the ending left a lot to be desired. Trapped in the basement of the bank, everyone just sort of stares at everyone else, until the thieves give up. And that’s it. The ending wasn’t scary, shocking, or funny. It was just sad, on multiple levels.
Overall, this was an okay story. It was entertaining, if not surprising. I would compare this episode to homemade macaroni and cheese. Everyone’s got their own version, they’re all pretty good, and none of them are exciting.
There’s just one episode left in this season of American Horror Stories. Let’s hope they’ve saved the best for last.
(3.5 / 5)
It happened. It finally happened. We got another good episode of American Horror Stories.
The story
We begin our story late at night, with a hospital security guard named Malcolm. He is frightened one night when he sees a woman with a distorted face in the hospital parking lot.
We then joined an RN named Claire. She’s doing her best to explain to a struggling mother that the hospital will not be able to treat her son with cancer because she can’t afford the treatment.
Not like she’s happy about it.
Fortunately, Dr. Nostrum, played by the legend Henry Winkler, swoops in at the last moment to tell the mother that her son qualifies for a special place in his cancer treatment clinic.
Claire is lamenting the fact that she became an RN to help people, but it feels like she isn’t doing anything good. Then, she and her friend Lilly stumble upon the same woman who menaced Malcom the night before.
While Claire is trying to figure out what’s wrong with this woman, she brutally slaughters an orderly and vanishes into the hospital. But not before struggling to say two words to Claire. Ward X.
What worked
I want to start by praising the effects of this episode. Because they were fantastic. Aided by the black and white filming, the bloody and distorted faces of Alice and her fellow victims are nightmarish. They look like a horrific version of Lockjaw taken to a terrifying extreme.
I also want to discuss the fantastic work of Henry Winkler. He is an absolute legend and never has a bad project.
Winkler’s character in this episode was exactly what we’d expect from him. He seems genuinely warm and kind, concerned about others’ well-being. Even when he’s planning to kill Claire, he comes off as such a caring guy.
Finally, I want to talk about the historical significance of this story. Because, like I always say, the scariest stories are the ones based on truth. And I’m sorry to say, this story has a basis in truth.
Mankind has a dark and twisted history when it comes to medical advances. Most doctors and scientists are good, moral people who abide by the first line of the Hippocratic oath, to first do no harm. Some, historically, are little more than monsters in white coats. Consider the Tuskegee Experiment, Unit 731, and the horrific acts of Josef Mengele. If you’re going to look up that middle one, be warned that it is NSFL.
While this episode of American Horror Stories was a work of fiction, it wasn’t that far off. I don’t think many of us want to admit how close to real life it was. This is the gift of good horror, to force us to come face to face with the worst aspects of humanity. To acknowledge them, accept them, and change them.
All in all, this was a perfect episode. The acting, the effects and the story were all top-shelf. And it’s certainly a story that will stick with you.
There are just two episodes left in this season of American Horror Stories. Let’s hope that they reach closer to the quality of X, and away from the dull and dismal episodes that began the second half of this season.
(5 / 5)
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