The DemonHuntr Series: One Year On

Short intro

Some of my avid readers may remember a little post I wrote a year ago today, introducing you to DemonHuntr: a series that focuses on "a friendship between two men, one gay and one straight, who play the roles of mediums [...] they use the 'DemonHuntr app' (hence the name) and go on to solve mysteries and fight the supernatural". If you'd like to go back and read the article, click here.

On the anniversary of this post, I wanted to go back to the spooky stories, the queer characters and the man behind it all, Tim O'Leary. Tim was nice enough to let me interview him, so that we might better understand how far DemonHuntr has come in a year and what we can expect from the series in the future.

How has the process of making the show been? Have you encountered any new aspects of the industry that were new to you?

"So, it turns out film-making is really difficult and expensive. I know, it's crazy right?

 This wasn't the first time on a set for anyone involved, but there were a lot of firsts - particularly for our original production team (myself, my husband, Robert Rice and our good friends, Zach Nycum and James Stanley) because it was our first time producing anything, just us without any outside help.

 Usually, when a production team is up to bat the first time, they'll make a short film or a proof of concept or something like that. But not us! Nope, in our infinite wisdom, we thought it would be a grand idea to make a series that originally consisted of six episodes, which is essentially six, short films in a row.

 Unfortunately, even demons are no match for a global pandemic, so we had to stop before our sixth episode was completed. Our plan now is to release the first five episodes (which does work narratively as a season) and then film the sixth episode as soon as possible, and release it as a bonus episode, sort of a coda to the season.

 As for the process, it's long and gruelling and exhausting, but hot damn do I love it. Our very first rehearsal was actually a fight rehearsal, so I had our two, lead actors and two stunt people whom they fight in the show all together in the gym and it was awesome. I have a background in fight choreography, and Zach and James and I had worked out the choreo ahead of time. Then with our other stunt coordinator (Christian Chan), we taught everyone the moves. 

 That was the first time I saw what our lead characters really looked like when they moved [...] it also made me tear up because the overwhelming majority of the people in the room were LGBTQ, and it was just so physical and heroic - not what most people are expecting from a queer series. It was so damn beautiful and exciting to watch."

What has been one of the highlights of filming so far?

"There've been so many that it's hard to pin down just one. I'm a big action fan, so getting the footage back from the editors of the fight scenes cut together has been insanely awesome. Watching stunt people get transformed into blue-skinned demons on the first day of shooting - I will never forget that for as long as I live because I love creature effects in movies, and getting to actually direct something with creatures in it made me giggle like a 5-year old.

 But if I had to pick one, it would be this: DemonHuntr happened because Rob and I had Zach and James over one day just to hang out and we were in our pool, casually talking about what we wanted to accomplish in Hollywood. And we realised that what we all wanted was to make a queer horror project that was funny and action-packed and sexy.

 And then...we did it. I'm not going to lie - it was incredibly difficult and there were many times I wanted to call it quits. But we did it, we got through it [...] with the help of a lot of people along the way. Making something out of nothing with your spouse and close friends is a phenomenal feeling. We all leaned on each other a lot [...] but we raised the money and then we did it! And the fact that we were four, queer people doing this was the icing on the cake. I'll always be proud of that."

You once stated that the show "takes place in a world where absolutely everyone is accepted for who they are": has it been difficult executing art that focuses on acceptance of sexuality and race during the Black Lives Matter movement?

"That's a good question and a difficult one to answer. As we're talking about this, the Supreme Court just ruled that you can't be fired for being LGBTQ anywhere in [America]. And while that's amazing, it's impossible to feel celebratory in any way because our black friends and family are still being murdered by police with impunity. And while we're all taking part in Black Lives Matter marches and signing petitions and having those uncomfortable conversations with close-minded, white people, it's never enough. This is the issue of our time (though it's long, long overdue) and it needs to be fixed now.

 Artistically, there are a lot of avenues you can take to approach this issue. DemonHuntr does take place in an alternate universe where racism and homophobia and sexism don't exist because I wanted to making something aspirational. That's the lane I thought I could write the best in.

 One of my favourite memories was the very first day on set. I was looking around at the cast and crew working together, and I realised that (not by design) there wasn't a single straight, white, cisgender man on set. Anywhere. There were a few that joined later in subsequent days of filming but, in the beginning, it was just us - everyone who'd, at some point, been told that because of the colour of their skin or their gender [...] or sexuality, they weren't good enough. That they were an 'other'. But here we were, a pack of 'others', and we were all making something together. I think that's pretty special."

 

Do you have a favourite character of the show and, if so, what do you like about them?

"Are you trying to get me killed? Have you met actors? The second one of them reads this and doesn't see their name, I'm gonna end up with my head in a box, like at the end of Se7en! No, thank you.

[...] in all seriousness, I actually don't really have a favourite character because my favourite aspect of the show is how all the characters interact with one another. The first season is the story of a group of people slowly becoming a family and you need each character for that. And we have fabulous actors that came in as guest stars, and I fell in love with so many of them and their performances that it would be impossible to single anyone out. Although, I am excited to release it and see which characters resonate with the audience and why. 

 I'm sure there will be a bunch of fan favourites."

When are you estimated to wrap on DemonHuntr and what can we expect from the first episode?

"We're technically wrapped on principle photography for season one since, as I said earlier, COVID put the kibosh on episode six halfway through filming.

 We're in post-production now, which is a very long process. And once that's done, there's determining which distribution platform suits us best. So, it'll be a little while before it's ready to be released."

Finally, what do you hope to achieve by putting your vision out there into the world?

"Money! All the money! Give it to me!

 [...] just kidding, there's no money in indie, gay film. These are three things I hope to achieve.

 One: as I said before, there is definitely a kumbaya aspect to DemonHuntr that I hope people will connect with - the idea that we all matter, everyone's voice deserves to be heard and everyone deserves to see someone who looks and acts like them as a hero on screen.

 Two: to be really frank, I hope it helps to normalise gay sex. The queer characters in our show are allowed to both heroically fight evil and also enjoy sex with no shame. Something that's always bugged me is that the only characters in fiction that are allowed to have full, sexual freedom without judgement are straight, white men. No one has ever slut-shamed James Bond.

 But if a character is a woman, a queer person or a person of colour and they have a similar sex life, there are comments. There's hand wringing about whether this is the kind of representation we truly need. There are complaints about 'having it shoved in our faces' [...] and I resent that not only as a writer but as a gay man. I'm just so over seeing gay characters neutered unless the story they're in is explicitly about sex and relationships - stories like Queer as Folk, Brokeback Mountain and Call Me By Your Name. So I want to do my part to end that stigma as well.

 Finally, three: I'm hoping beyond hope that DemonHuntr finds an audience, so studios with actual budgets and access will see that people are hungry for queer-led genre projects. I want to see queer Avengers. Queer Star Wars. Queer Lord of the Rings.

 [...] those are my biggest hopes."

Final thoughts

As always, it has been an absolute pleasure talking with Tim and, as part of the LGBTQ+ community myself, I look forward to whatever DemonHuntr has to offer post-release. 

If you'd like to keep updated on the series, the actors and the production, you can find more info at their official site as well as their socials: Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. 

- K

Rustic Revenge: an Exploration of Folk Horror

[Reader disclaimer: spoilers will be discussed].

"Now it's dark, and you seem to have lost him, but you're hopelessly lost yourself; stranded with a murderer. You creep silently through the underbrush, [...] in the distance, a small cottage with a light on. Hope! You move stealthily toward it but your leg, [...] it's caught in a bear trap."

Ironically, Rob Cantor's Shia LaBeouf Live illustrates the core essence of what folk horror is: isolation, wilderness, panic and murder. Kieran Fisher defines 'folk horror' as a wide variety of things, from "folk tales and legends to stories about ghosts, the occult, and deranged communities", that is to say that in folk horror, the scares derive from the nature that surrounds the characters as well as the occupants dwelling within it. However, this is not the same as eco-horror.

Andrew Hurley wrote an article for The Guardian, claiming that a recurring motif of folk horror is that characters are "seduced by the idea that the natural world is where [they'll] find some kind of restoration, enlightenment and, ultimately, peace". I think what's interesting there is that Hurley suggests that, as an audience, we are drawn in by the same temptations but this is where I have to disagree: these films, often b-movies, have a demographic of city-dwellers. A lot of critics claim that this demographic fear nature and the ambiguity of it (after all, it's often depicted as wide, open space, a land of lawlessness, a beautiful yet isolated setting). 

But I believe that what people really fear is the people who inhabit these settings: the villagers, the rustic types, the farmers and fishermen and the less-educated. Because if we look at examples of folk horror, nature is used as a front to lull its victims into a false sense of security: the real horror originates from the characters that already live there. 

The Cottage (2008)

This argument, I think, depends on context. For example, I am from a county called Suffolk (that's in England, for you non-UK folks), renowned for their agriculture and rich history; Ipswich's football team literally has the nickname 'Tractor Boys'. My childhood was largely spent in a village called Somersham which, I kid you not, is just one, long road surrounded by fields, fields and more fields. Therefore the isolation aspect of folk horror evokes no response from me: I was basically raised in a place where mobile signals were scarce, where birds woke you up at 7am and seeing people hack at wheat with a giant scythe was a normality. 

However, non-European countries may view this differently. Films such as The Wicker Man (1973), The Cottage (2008) or Gnaw (2008), all examples of British folk horror, depict those who live in a rural society as 'The Other': they're often shown to be mentally retarded, physically deformed (suggestively through inbreeding) and known to harbour hatred for city-goers and urban dwellers. People in rural areas in horrors films are demonised because their way of life is different from our own.

Midsommar (2019)

Let's take Midsommar (2019) for example (warning: spoilers ahead). The setting is this idyllic, pastoral community in Sweden wherein their traditions are observed and chastised by the American characters, e.g. love charms, ritualistic suicide and chanting. The Hårga are depicted as peaceful yet sinister as they murder each American one-by-one but, if we take into consideration why they die, then you realise that the horror doesn't derive from these rural people being an example of the 'Other', rather they are protecting their community from outsiders that choose to disobey their rules, mock their traditions and endanger them. In essence, they are not the villains: the main characters are.

Simon and Connie insult the Hårga's tradition. Josh violates their trust. Mark literally urinates on a sacred tree and then refuses to understand why the people are angry. Christian is just an absolute d-bag overall and you'll know that if you've seen the film. 

Did they deserve to die for it? Probably not: their outbursts are more suggestive of their ignorance rather than malicious intent. However the horror of Midsommar is in what the characters fail to respect and acknowledge, not in the inherent nature of the rural community. Dani is embraced by nature and by the Hårga because she understands grief, pain and healing through being open-minded and embracing the community's way of life (e.g. baking with the women, dancing for the May Queen title and taking hallucinogenics). 

Kill List (2011)

From what we're shown in folk horror, people who live closer to nature tend to be more spiritually connected to the earth (or at least act as servants to it). Paganism is a largely used motif in folk horror, a religion that worships the elements; it's important to note that there are many different sectors of paganism and that the one we often see in horror relates to eco-centric practise and religious naturalism. 

Folk horror tends to demonise paganism and/or natural worship as something that isolates those involved and keeps them in a cult-like setting, something the urban characters oppose to due to a fear of losing connection to their world. It's a recurrent theme: the mobile doesn't work, there's no public transport, that farmer who's offering to help seems dodgy...anything that can keep them from "escape". The irony in that is that city-life is considerably more claustrophobic and chaotic, whereas rural settings are typically large, spacious areas, so perhaps they don't fear escape as much as they fear the lack of structure and law. 

However, there is nothing sinister to paganism, in the same way that satanism (a popular religion to depict in horror) is perfectly innocent as well. Paganism is pre-Christianity and satanism is attached to it entirely, as the core belief is following Satan, a Christian character: think about it, in every exorcism film, what triumphs evil? Followers of Christ. Priests. Men of God. There is a clear prejudice against non-Christian religions and that's evident throughout horror history (though that's a tangent for another time). 

The Locals (2003)

The point I'm trying to make here, as messily as I may have put it, is that the true horror of this folk sub-genre is not nature: it's humanity. Eco-horror is a separate sub-genre that deals with humanity versus our earth but folk horror deals primarily with the divide in humanity, the rural versus the urban. In folk horror, nature is idyllic and nurturing only to those who are worthy of it, and accept that although humans reign, Mother Nature is still in charge. 

- K 

The Authenticity of Resident Evil: Afterlife [2010]

[Reader disclaimer: spoilers will be discussed].

If you're a gamer, I'm sure you're all too painfully aware of the game-to-film curse that somehow manages to take our most beloved video game franchises and suck them dry, returning to us on-screen as shadows of their former selves. Hollywood likes to regurgitate their cookie-cutter stories with everything and video game adaptations always seem to fall victim to it.

One video game franchise in particular was for a while considered to be a game-to-film success story, said franchise being my childhood love: Resident Evil (1996 - present). Paul W.S. Anderson came forward in 2002 with the first Resident Evil movie starring Mila Jovovich as the titular 'Alice' (a character, I should note, that never features in the video games) and managed to garner $130 million at the box office. It wasn't the perfect video game adaptation, but it showed promise, and most of us were just happy to have something that wasn't complete garbage (looking at you, Super Mario Bros).

After that, Anderson spawned numerous sequels, which...well, they weren't as great: six films were made in total but even Resident Evil: The Final Chapter (2017) only managed to score a measly 38% on Rotten Tomatoes. The general consensus amongst long-time fans is that the downfall of Anderson's zombie-filled empire came with the release of Resident Evil: Afterlife (2010), the fourth instalment of the franchise. However, it is my opinion that this film is perhaps the only instalment that authentically reflects the true, campy yet delightfully violent nature of the original video games.

Firstly, let's look at references. The script for Afterlife began in 2008 but there are some undeniable influences from the Resident Evil 5 (2009) game that was released a year later, namely the inclusion of the "majini" as well as other Easter eggs, such as the P30 injector. 

"Majini", for those of you that aren't familiar, are a type of undead that retain some intellect and have distinctive mandibles that open up like a fleshy mouth-flower, much like the Demogorgon from Stranger Things (2016 - present) or the Reaper vampires from Blade II (2002). They were first introduced in-game with Resident Evil 4 (2005), where arthropods named "plagas" infected an indeterminate region of Spain, turning their victims into madmen with terrifying (albeit impressively flexible) mouths: the inclusion of this in Afterlife is never explained but it was a treat to see the filmmakers not only move away from the T-virus storyline and include variation but also reference things from the newer games.

Secondly, the characters. As with the majini, we are (finally) introduced to Chris Redfield (played by Wentworth Miller), one of the two playable characters from the first ever game in 1996. Incidentally, Chris is never featured in the sequels, but his appearance in Afterlife brings such a wave of nostalgia to the viewer, especially when we're also given a scene where he and his sister, Claire (played by Ali Larter) are reunited: this is a nod to the game franchise's ongoing plot-line of Claire and Chris spending most of their time searching for each other.

Albert Wesker (played by Shawn Roberts) is also given more screen-time in Afterlife: he was initially introduced in Resident Evil: Extinction (2007) but thankfully plays a larger role in the fourth instalment. Wesker is, first and foremost, one of the most prolific antagonists of RE and it was quite shocking that he was shelved up until the fourth film.

And then there's my favourite character: the Majini Executioner. When I was rewatching the film, I assumed this hulking behemoth of undead flesh was the Axeman (as listed on Afterlife's IMDB page), a side character from the Resident Evil Outbreak File #2 (2004) spinoff game. Then I realised that it was the Executioner, introduced in Resident Evil 5. 

Despite the Executioner lacking a backstory as in-depth and brutal as the Axeman, this character makes for one of the greatest secondary antagonists of any RE film, in my opinion. From his intimidating silence to his over-sized meat tenderiser of a weapon (which distinctly reminds me of the Champion's Cudgel from The Elder Scrolls series), the Executioner scene in Afterlife epitomises everything great about the franchise: gratuitous violence, bad-ass character design and a soundtrack that slaps. It genuinely feels like you're watching a mini-boss fight scene and it's fun as hell.

Lastly, the tone of Afterlife is, in my opinion, what truly grounds it as the most authentic-feeling film. Scenes like the Executioner fight as well as the rooftop explosion feel like we're in a video game, the latter demonstrated by camera movements and choreography you'd typically see in a third-person shooter as the player takes down waves of enemies. One of the best scenes of the film is where the Redfield siblings battle Wesker on the Arcadia ship, an almost shot-for-shot remake of a cutscene from Resident Evil 5 (in which Chris and Sheva Alomar fight Wesker as well, see the video above for the comparison shots).

Afterlife's dialogue is questionable. I don't think I could ever truly defend the film's writing because, for the most part, it's mediocre and downright laughable. But it doesn't detract from the action: in fact, it sort of supports the campy, ridiculously theatrical tone that we see evident in pretty much every single RE game prior to the release of Resident Evil 7: Biohazard (2017), which took a more serious and realistic approach. If anything, Afterlife would've been out of place for the film franchise had it taken itself seriously and tried to mimic the tone of its contemporaries, such as 28 Days Later (2002) or I Am Legend (2007).

All in all, Resident Evil: Afterlife achieves what I believe none of the other instalments do, and that is authentically capturing both the tonal and visual elements of the original franchise in a way that stands as a great example of what Resident Evil is all about. Fun, gore and some funky looking zombies.

- K 

[Editor's note: video credit goes to Hero on YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74_gTzYCxeg]

Why The Human Centipede 2 [2011] is Actually A Decent Film

[Reader disclaimer: spoilers will be discussed. This piece also contains material of a disturbing and graphic nature].

You won't have to have seen The Human Centipede: First Sequence (2009) to know what it's about. No doubt your friends have made you watch it for a dare at that one sleepover or you were too curious after it was hyped up and made the decision to see what it was all about. If you haven't seen it, well the premise is simply a man that wants (and succeeds in) stitching three people, erm...ass-to-mouth. 

This late noughties horror flick became an instant sensation, a modern-day video nasty, sickening people all over the world and earning itself some tidy bans in a few countries. Tom Six (the director) had openly declared to society that he was the new face of b-movie torture porn, despite it being disliked by so many people, audiences and critics alike: mainly it was hated for its audacious and disturbing source material but it also didn't help that the performances were lacklustre and the script could be called mediocre at best.

So it's interesting that its successor, The Human Centipede II: Full Sequence (2011) was surprisingly good in comparison. I'm sure most would disagree with me on that and happily plonk it onto the same burning heap that the original film (and third instalment) sit atop like an un-welcomed bad-taste horror prodigy.

However, this sequel has some merit, namely its use of meta-storytelling. The entire premise of  THC2 is that a sadomasochistic, introverted man named Martin (played by Laurence R. Harvey) is obsessed with the first Centipede movie and fantasises about creating his own real-life monstrosity with 12 people, as opposed to the original three. THC2 derives its horror not only from the visceral and gratuitous violence we see on-screen but from the genuinely terrifying concept that its grounded in our reality.

If we look at this film at surface level, it's pretty simplistic: the entire thing is shot in black and white (a seemingly artistic choice but nevertheless a necessity for Tom Six after he couldn't get it through censorship gates) and it does do what it says on the tin...it gives us a human centipede. But if you take a more analytical approach to it, you'll notice that THC2 is not only able to be self-referential but it also pays homage to other aspects of horror, making it more than just a two-dimensional snuff-like flick about some people stuck together with staples.

The main bulk of the film feels like a midnight feature of underground cinema, something so depraved and explicit that it could only be watched by dedicated movie-goers or curious patrons looking to get a kick out of being freaked out; the use of black and white alone makes me reminiscent of the b-movies they'd show in the 60s. 

There's a particular scene in THC2 that makes me think of Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho (1960): in the final act, our "protagonist" (if you can really call him that) finally snaps and smashes his emotionally abusive mother's head in with a crowbar, after which he proceeds to sit her at the kitchen table and stare at the bloody remains of her face like a man without a care in the world. It's unnerving, similar to the way in which Norman Bates kept his mother's corpse around and spoke to it like she was still alive: such absurd niceties are what truly evoke a good reaction from the audience (at least in my opinion).

The characters in the sequel definitely supersede that of the first film. Martin's incompetent yet believably malicious character is a complete 180 of Dr. Heiter from THC1, in that Martin is at least a character you can almost sympathise with as a victim of emotional, physical and sexual abuse, whereas Heiter is just a psychopath abusing his skills as a physician. Supporting character Dr. Sebring (played by Bill Hutchens) is a walking, Freudian parody, depicted as an authoritative yet perverse opposition to Martin. And of course there's Ashlynn Yennie, an actress from THC1 who reprises her role as an exaggerated, meta-version of herself, further strengthening the link between the first and second film.

Is this a perfect horror film, though? No, and I'm not here to contest that it is because THC2 is very self-indulgent, the narrative is littered with tired, stereotypical tropes and arguably strays further out of the torture porn category and more into a fetishization of scat/bodily fluid/snuff kinks (I wonder if Tom Six is aware that gross doesn't necessarily equate to horror).

However, the final act of the film is what fans remember: it's simply a test of endurance on behalf of the viewer as to how much you're willing to witness. If the act of teeth being smashed out with a hammer wasn't enough for you, THC2 gradually unpacks all of the twisted ideas in its arsenal: from ripping out a tongue with pliers, to explicit sexual assault, to stomping on the skull of a new-born baby, THC2 does it all and spares no mercy in showing it. It is an embodiment of the torture porn genre but not in the generally campy, over-the-top way: it's decisive torture, implemented by an amateur in crude fashion. It's horrifying because, unlike Dr. Heiter with his medical expertise, any of us could be capable of doing what Martin does (if you're twisted enough). 

The Human Centipede II: Full Sequence is a decent horror film (despite its obscenities and ludicrous script) because it not only utilises the shock factor of the first-film but creates something entirely new in the process: bigger, bloodier and weirder than before. 

- K

Film Reviews: Sometimes Mainstream Isn't So Bad [Overlord, 2018]

[Reader disclaimer: spoilers will be discussed. This piece also contains material of a graphic nature].

When out in public, we tend to notice those Hollywood blockbusters plastered across the side of the local buses. For the most part, I don't pay attention to whatever has entered the mainstream stratosphere, especially in horror; "Hollywood horror" is a compilation of tired tropes, bad acting and abhorrent dialogue. 

I remember Overlord (2018) being advertised. I chalked it up to being yet another terrible film that would no doubt make a decent penny at the box office and be forgotten instantaneously. But, as it turns out, this film is not just a basic horror: it's fun, it's gory and I'd say arguably pretty unique.

The film follows Boyce (Jovan Adepo), an American soldier tasked to destroy a watch tower behind enemy lines during WW2. He's part of an ensemble, eventually joined by Chloe (Mathilde Ollivier), a local woman who is trying to protect her younger brother from Nazis. The set-up is pretty simplistic but there are some absolutely haunting visuals, from dead soldiers hanging from the trees to the experiment subjects we see later in the film. 

The characters in this film are...okay. Most of them are loose stereotypes that a murdered in violent fashion without being fleshed out, demonstrating a complete lack of indispensability that we often see in both horror and war films. Boyce is a refreshing addition: a POC protagonist who is not only morally sound but manages to live throughout the narrative, subtle in its revision of harmful tropes (such as the black person dying first). 

One of the standout characters in this has to be Wafner (Pilou Asbæk) a.k.a Danish Michael Shannon. For a fictional Nazi character, he's impressively determinate and perverse: sure, he's no Hans Lander, but he's certainly entertaining in a 'you just love to hate the guy' kind of way. German Greyjoy is charismatic, respectful yet absolutely screams 'Nazi scum', presented in a way that's almost pantomime-like.  

The visual effects of Overlord are delightfully gross. If you've seen any marketing for it, then you'll know there is a scene wherein Wafner's character literally has half his face smashed off, achieved by a combination of prosthetics, CGI and good ol' fashioned sfx makeup. In fact, most of the gore and body horror in this film is well-done: in some respects, it leaned heavily into Cronenberg territory, which I certainly enjoyed.

My takeaway from this film is that, at times, it feels like it wants to be taken seriously yet for the most part, it's supposed to be fun. Is it the best horror film of 2018? No, but I don't think that matters, to be honest. It's impressive for what it is and certainly got dunked too hard on by fans upon release. 

Overall rating: 7/10

- K 

Ranked: Favourite Film Soundtracks

[Reader disclaimer: there will be spoilers discussed. This piece also contains material that might be sensitive to some readers].

There are many components to a film: cinematography, editing, mise-en-scene, lighting, acting. In certain genres, a key aspect tends to stand out more than others, for example, music composition in horror is essential for creating that tension and unease that we typically associate with scary movies (such as the orchestral stab when we experience a jump scare or the rise of string instruments when tension is being built). 

Before the late 20s (with The Jazz Singer (1927) being one of the first examples of films with synchronised speech in it), films often relied on non-diegetic music to demonstrate the emotions of what we saw on-screen. It's still an important component today, however, music has changed drastically since the Silent Era of piano compositions to modern-day remixes and scores on a grand scale.

Here are some of my favourite examples of music used in film.

10) Time by Hans Zimmer - Inception (2010)

Hans Zimmer is one of my favourite film composers. From the macabre yet stunning soundtrack of The Dark Knight (2008) to his playful and enchanting work on The Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003), Zimmer is undeniably talented at utilising every instrument to evoke emotion from the audience.

One of his greatest examples of work (in my opinion, obviously) is the final scene of Inception (2012), in which we see Dom (Leonardo DiCaprio) using the spinning top but leaving to greet his children before we ever see if the top falls or stays upright, leaving the ending ambiguous as to whether or not Dom and the others have returned to reality.

The song Time is played over this sequence, a powerful yet melancholic piece that finishes with lone keys played on the piano. It conveys almost a sadness and provides the audience with a taste of closure before the song abruptly ends on the shot of the spinning top. In comparison to the rest of the soundtrack, Time feels like a solid landmark at the end of the film, one that beautifully marries rising brass and string instruments with the poignant and saddening notes of the piano.

9) The Kiss by Trevor Jones - The Last of the Mohicans (1992)

I can't say that The Last of the Mohicans (1992) as a film has aged particularly well but there are two aspects of this film which are still unfaltering in their impressive nature: Daniel Day-Lewis' performance and the soundtrack.

When I think back to the films I watched as a child and the songs I remember, this one has always stuck in my mind. The Kiss comprises mainly of violins and drums in a romantic, almost Celtic fashion. At this point in the film, Hawkeye (Day-Lewis) seeks out Cora (Madeline Stowe) and they passionately embrace, finally succumbing to their mutual attraction for each other.

As a viewer, this scene is a moment in the making. We witness the romantic tension between the two lovers for so long and desperately await that climactic moment wherein they kiss, so the rise from minor to major chords feels empowering and relieving. 

8) Hellraiser by Christopher Young - Hellraiser (1987)

Talking of films from childhood, this spot on the list had to go to one of my all-time favourites: Hellraiser (1987). Obviously most horror films from the 70s/80s renaissance are indisputably iconic, from Charles Bernstein on A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), John Carpenter on Halloween (1978) to one of the most famous themes in pop culture, Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells for The Exorcist (1973). 

Out of all of them, however, I had to nominate Christopher Young's work on Hellraiser. I believe my attachment to this soundtrack is founded in both nostalgia but also due to its likeness to composer Danny Elfman's discography: they both tend to use gothic themes intertwined with classical styles of musical composition, which I think works effectively when it comes to horror films. 

Either way, as soon as Hellraiser starts playing, I'm immediately thrown back to the first time watching it, sitting in absolute awe of Doug Bradley. 

7) Bundle of Joy by Michael Giacchino - Inside Out (2015)

Let's be honest. There are plenty of Pixar soundtracks that could sit on this list. Some of you might be surprised to see that I've picked something remotely new as opposed to something more nostalgia-based from the 90s, such as Toy Story (1995) or Monsters, Inc (2001).

I went to see this film on my 19th birthday and this is one of the first pieces of music to be introduced to us: the birth of Riley (Kaitlyn Dias). This small piece of music, with just the piano alone, evokes this sense of wonderment and childlike happiness that seemingly captures Riley's personality before we're even able to see her character grow up on-screen. It's heartfelt and light, something that Pixar films are most certainly renowned for. 

I believe that if I had seen this film as a child, I would've had a fond nostalgia for its music. As an adult, I can appreciate what Giacchino is trying to translate to his audience and it works.

6) Bunsen Burner by CUTS - Ex Machina (2014)

It came as a surprise to me when I watched Ex Machina (2014) after listening to The Prodigy's 2015 album, The Day is My Enemy because one of the songs on the tracklisting actually samples Bunsen Burner in a more sped-up format. So, every time I listen to the Ex Machina soundtrack, I'm reminded of The Prodigy.

Regardless, Bunsen Burner has been firmly etched into my memory ever since I watched this film for the first time. It's electronic, ebbing introduction fades effortlessly into a strong, three, minor-notes sequence that never feels repetitive, only tense. Within the context of the film, this is the climactic scene of the final act, wherein Ava (Alicia Vikander) turns on her creator, Nathan (Oscar Isaac) and fatally stabs him: we, as the audience, realise Ava's inability to feel true empathy and that she truly is a threat.

Bunsen Burner feels, in a way, like the empowerment of a freed prisoner but also the final curtain of the characters we have grown to trust and even like within the narrative. It's a musical double-edged sword.

5) Rohan by Howard Shore - The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)

The entire discography of The Lord of the Rings franchise is impressive. There's no denying that. However, I'd argue that the second film, The Two Towers (2002), holds some of the best use of Howard Shore's work; the grand scale of the battle scenes, the intimate moments between characters, the light-hearted nature of comic relief.

Rohan is my favourite of all these themes, as it's used to both present touching scenes (such as the freedom of Théoden, played by Bernard Hill) but also the more melancholic moments, such as Éowyn (Miranda Otto) lamenting the dying landscape of her home and the ill-nature of her people.

Every geographical location in Middle Earth has its theme and Rohan is distinct in its use of string and brass instruments, conveying an atmospheric feeling of grandeur and unity. 

4) I Got 5 On It by Michael Marshall ft. Luniz - Us (2019)

In his first film, Jordan Peele demonstrated his ability to handpick songs that were absolutely perfect for the narrative, with Get Out (2017) featuring artists such as Childish Gambino and Flanagan & Allen. In his second film, Peele truly stepped up his game by not only delivering some more iconic songs but giving one of the most haunting remixes of an R&B song I've ever heard.

I Got 5 On It, originally sung by Luniz, is remixed with a dramatic, high-pitched underscore, which elevates a formerly relaxed song to a song of panic, paranoia and frustration. This, accompanied with the scene of Adelaide and Red's (both played by Lupita Nyong'o) expertly choreographed fight, makes for both an entertaining yet nerve-wracking experience. 

This trend of taking 80s/90s songs and giving them new life is so enjoyable and I genuinely hope we see more of that in the future.

3) In the House, In a Heartbeat by John Murphy - 28 Weeks Later (2007)

This simplistic piece of music is by far one of the best examples I've seen in a horror film, period. John Murphy's In the House, In a Heartbeat begins with two piano notes, then layers that with a four-chord sequence. This builds louder and louder, eventually transgressing into electric guitar and drums, mirroring the increasingly tense scene it accompanies of Don (Robert Carlyle) abandoning his wife to flee from extremely fast zombies. 

As someone who plays music and finds interest in learning chord progressions, this track opened my eyes to the idea that a song doesn't have to have a lot of fancy notes in order to be impactful. What 28 Weeks Later (2007) does so efficiently is creating even more tension through its music, producing almost a sensory overload for the viewer. 

Don's escape scene in the first act is honestly one of the reasons that I actually favour this sequel over its predecessor film.

2) Mr. Moustafa by Alexandre Desplat - The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

Wes Anderson is renowned for his quirky characters, pastel backgrounds and oddly catchy music. Out of all the films he has produced thus far, however, I believe The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) has the best soundtrack: it's fast paced, dramatic yet completely endearing. 

Much like The Two Towers, this film has musical themes for locations and chapters of the narrative, the best arguably being the Mr. Moustafa theme in which we are introduced to the titular character (played by Ralph Fiennes). It features a variety of sounds, it's pace is typical of iambic pentameter and it's playful rhythm parallels the playful nature of the character itself. 

I adore it, as I adore the film.

1) Death is the Road to Awe by Clint Mansell - The Fountain (2006)

If you're a new reader of mine, or just unaware of my top 10 films in general, then I'd like to explain that The Fountain (2006) is my favourite film of all time. It's generally regarded as one of director Darren Aronofsky's lesser films, despite it featuring A-list actors such as Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz, but to me I think it's more of a spiritual journey rather than purely a film.

In the third act, three timelines merge to demonstrate the acceptance of death, how grief is a valid process and how the inevitability of us dying is not always the end. This, shown through stunning, golden-toned sfx, is accompanied by Death is the Road to Awe; this is one of the first experiences I've had where a song made my heart stop, my hair stand on end, my breath shorten. It is, simply put, exquisiteness. 

There's a specific section of this track where the sound falters and then explodes into a crescendo of violins, harmonic choir voices and drums that mirrors the on-screen scene of Tom (Jackman) ascending into the galactic nebula named Xibalba (also known as the Mayan afterlife). It's dramatic, powerful, almost alien. And it's beautiful.

Honourable mentions

Of course, I didn't have room to fit all of my favourites on here, so here are also some honourable mentions:

• What's Up Danger by Blackway & Black Caviar - Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
• Pray For Me by The Weeknd ft. Lamar - Black Panther (2018)
• Bang Bang by Will.I.Am - The Great Gatsby (2013)
• Redeemer by Jonathan Davis ft. Marilyn Manson - Queen of the Damned (2002)
• Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins - Top Gun (1986)
• Burly Brawl by Don Davis - The Matrix Reloaded (2003)
• Main Theme by Marilyn Manson - Resident Evil (2002)
• Down to Earth by Peter Gabriel - Wall-E (2008)

- K

Film Reviews: Is Neurodiversity The Punchline? [Joker, 2019]

Joker (2019)

[Reader disclaimer: there will be spoilers discussed. This piece also contains material of a sensitive nature].

Out of all of the Best Picture nominees for the 92nd Academy Awards season, I think I might be right in saying that Joker (2019) has received some of the biggest and controversial opinions from film-goers (with the exception of Jojo Rabbit (2019), of course). The film provides a new take on DC's iconic villain, depicting a man named Arthur (Joaquin Phoenix) who is essentially a struggling stand-up comedian with a neurological disorder that causes him to laugh uncontrollably, experience delusions and has difficulties with social interaction. 

I'll begin with what I found to be the good parts of this film. Firstly, if we look at technicalities alone, it looks and sounds wonderful. The cinematography, the camerawork, the musical score (maybe with the exception of Gary Glitter's song in the third act): they all equate to a very unique and distressing experience. I cannot fault it on that front. 

Credit: @themadimay_

Secondly, there are some representations of neurodiversity that don't rock the boat in terms of being harmful stereotypes. For example, the establishment of isolation that Joker experiences ("the other guys don't feel comfortable around you") and the inability to relate to people (demonstrated by a scene in which Joker observes the behaviours and social cues of people around him in his local comedy club) are very reminiscent of things that mentally ill people experience on a daily basis. We become sympathetic to this character's frustrations because we as individuals are shown a reflection of our own experiences, whether we are neurodiverse or not. 

However, Joker is (in this writer's opinion) a harmful film for representing mental illness in the way that it does. I will preface this by saying I am neurodiverse, therefore I am going to have a more biased say on this film: the things I take issue with are representations that will undoubtedly result in how others may treat me in the future. 

The entire premise of Joker is founded on this idea that a mentally unhinged man is pushed too far by the unforgivably cruel, neurotypical-driven society that surrounds him, and so he consequently has a psychotic break that leads him to murder five people within the film's runtime, beginning with three, middle-class boys that had begun beating him on a subway. 

Within the context of this scene, it's a grey area as to whether or not Joker is valid in his actions. The first two men are killed in self-defence, which can be justified, however he murders the third after running from the scene and begging to be spared. Joker then flees the crime scene and dances in a dingy, public bathroom, as if to suggest that his actions are all a performance to him and not as serious as the audience will make it out to be. In this sequence, it feels as if the film is saying that not only is a mentally ill person more capable of or inevitable in killing someone but it portrays Joker as a man who lacks empathy, contradicting earlier scenes in which we see his close relationship with his mother and his need to be liked by those around him. 

I have seen reviewers online claiming that this turning point is "haunting" or a "masterful depiction of mental illness" when, in reality, it's a blatant fetishization of a criminally insane man who has chosen to take the lives of other people (whether they deserve it or not) because he's fed up of being the bottom of the barrel. Now, as a neurodiverse person, I can agree with that sentiment: in the UK right now, funding to mental health services are being cut left and right (something also shown in Joker), and of course that's frustrating. However, that doesn't mean we're going to go out with a pistol and shoot people in the face for it. Demonstrating the flaws of the system in the film might be a realistic representation of our current society but to show it in a way that suggests that violence is the answer, or that there's no hope for the people affected by it, is irresponsible on the filmmakers' behalf.

Credit: @cigarettesenate

Another justification that the film tries to slap on you is that Joker's mother, Penny (Frances Conroy) is revealed to also be mentally ill, suffering from severe delusions and having a past of physically abusing and neglecting her son as a child. It is also revealed that Penny is not his biological mother and that she has been in Arkham Asylum numerous times. In this sense, it's almost as if Joker is suggesting that victims of child abuse are exempt from scrutiny, even if they commit heinous crimes like murder, when really a backstory like this should only provide context, not a means to his madness.

Finally, there is the climactic scene in the third act, wherein Joker attends a talk show (one which has laughed at his expense previously for his seemingly terrible stand-up material) and proudly announces that he is the one that murdered the three men on the subway, which has inadvertently started a revolution in Gotham (ironic, really, considering that Joker is the poster boy for an uprising that he doesn't even care about; "I don't believe in any of that"). 

The show's host, Murray (Robert De Niro) argues with him in a heated debate, with Joker claiming that society treats neurodiverse people poorly and then ends the segment with the joke "what do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash? You get what you fucking deserve!" and murders Murray live on air. 

This is arguably the most poignant scene of the entire movie but it is also the most harmful. This entire interaction suggests that Murray's death is justified because of Joker's experiences, which it is not. Mentally ill people are not going to turn on neurotypicals and murder them because of how they've been treated; it is shown in many case studies that substance abuse largely has a direct correlation with most homicides and that mentally ill people are far more at risk to themselves than others. And to depict a division between these two types of people, to suggest that neurodiverse people are an 'Other', is enforcing this societal idea that we are different or "made wrong", or that without medication, we are more enlightened than everybody else.

I've said it once and I'll say it again: showing mentally ill people in cinema, ones with a predilection for murder, is not high art. It does nothing but portray harmful stereotypes of real people with real issues who are trying their best to navigate through a world that still sees their struggles as a taboo topic and are subjected to discrimination on the daily due to misinformation and unrealistic representation in the media (see Split (2017) for a 101 of how not to depict people with BPD). 

Credit: @catholicdad420

In a way, Joker largely tackles important issues, such as neurodiversity being shunned, capitalism and materialism being a basis for class division and kindness being integral to societal harmony. However, it does not tackle these issues in a healthy way. And I believe this is the true essence of Joker: feigning intellect but being unable to deliver it in a tangible and respectful way. As Jeremy Scott said in his recent review of Joker, "it's one of the most well-made movies I ever hated".

Overall rating: 6/10

- K

[Editor's note: Thank you all so much for being patient with me! I know I haven't posted content in a few months and that was down to personal/financial issues that I'm currently working through. I always appreciate my readership and feedback. See you again next week, hopefully!]