directed by fritz bÖhm
maven pictures/film i vÄst/filmgate films
This goofy little B-movie is a good example of what kinds of films this site’s proprietor often prefers. (Why is a different subject.) By rights, it SHOULD be hampered by various difficulties, not the least of which is its ridiculous story, and among which are occasionally lax production values, unconvincing acting and the overall feeling that it’s a made-for-TV affair. Nonetheless, it mostly succeeds, even if it doesn’t quite fulfill any variety of promises suggested when it shifts into the present tense. Coincidences and improbabilities propel the plot, highlighted by the irrepressible Brad Dourif emoting another weirdo and basically causing all the trouble. I didn’t even mention the stirring title anthem that you will probably immediately identify, as I did, as being written and performed by Linda Perry. So what, exactly, works here then, one may well be wondering. Call it pathos; within the outlandish framework resides the tale of a girl searching for family.
why did i watch this movie?
The plot concerns a young girl kept locked in her room ostensibly for her own protection … AND WOULD YOU BELIEVE –
should you watch this movie?
You know, it can be hard to differentiate these days what type of film one is watching, what with VOD being its own estimable category or genre. I mean, it’s not really the equivalent of a movie being “straight to video” BITD. That being said, when you’re in the mood for a streaming original or whatever, you may as well opt for this one.
highlight and low point
The part of the story that concerns the girl’s journey into normal society is interesting and handled differently than one may expect, but after a certain transformative point it becomes kind of mawkish, and then the budget makeup and/or FX department(s) take/s over. The film often feels oddly restrained throughout, and somewhat surreal. And I’ve mentioned Brad Dourif.
This picture boasts one innovative idea, which I anticipated watching unfold. Unfortunately, it didn’t bear quite enough fruit – either the producers didn’t have the nerve to take their conceit far enough or they modulated it a bit in the pursuit of mass consumption. The concept, of course, is a whole lotta silence, the reason being the premise that Earth has been invaded and decimated by aliens that hunt by sound. That’s a pretty great proposition, even with some of the questions it raises, but the filmmakers encounter issues with its execution. Now, I mean the following seriously, given that this is a movie dealing with deadly alien invaders that hunt by sound alone: far too many logical inconsistencies present themselves, disabling any suspension of disbelief. I mean, virtually from the opening scene, I was incredulous. That’s kind of a serious problem. A peculiarly reactionary sociology in the family structure has been noted elsewhere; it becomes perhaps even more curious when one considers that the director/co-writer and his wife are the lead actors.
Another first-time feature director, Aster turns in an assured, forceful debut with this atmospheric creepshow. The pace is measured and the plot unfolds slowly, along the way doling out seemingly offhand tidbits that to this viewer were frankly hilarious at times. (It is hard to say whether any humor was intended.) The story keeps one’s attention, though for the first half or so that is often a byproduct of the fact that it is difficult to suss out precisely what is afoot. Once the second half gets going, it’s more compulsive. A set piece here or there dips into the tried-and-true, flirting with trite, but such engagement mainly serves to reinforce a vague feeling of nostalgia – although it is also true that on occasion a nagging sense of déjà vu may prevail. Never too viscerally frightening, what the proceedings suggest will linger long enough to give one a pretty good case of the heebie-jeebies … as long as certain plot points aren’t given too much thought, of course. Often redolent of a David Lynch film. 
The second feature from director Keating following 2013’s Ritual, this science-fiction hybrid feels like a more fully realized affair. Though it seems to borrow heavily from various sources, it’s as homage rather than imitation – albeit as noted, the ultimate effect is somewhat to resemble The X-Files. Getting all the way to that point, however, is more than half the fun here, as the story’s slow buildup focuses on some familial dynamics, and only in exploiting the well-meaning dismissiveness exhibited toward one sibling by his brother and sister are the realities of their situation revealed. One thing this watcher found exemplary – which other reviewers seem to think a major drawback – is the novel approach taken to fleshing out the details behind the discoveries: None. No explanation is given, no tidy synopsis offered; it’s up to the audience. Personally, I thought this gambit worked perfectly, given the subject matter. The denouement unspools in stages, some of which are surprising (not SHOCKING) and some of which are business as usual. (The makers of Antibirth must have been taking notes, however.) 
Now that 
When was the last time you saw a really dumb Hollywood spectacle? I mean D-U-M-B like Armageddon (renegades fly into space to save the Earth by landing on an asteroid and blowing it up), the 1991 Point Break (Keanu plays FBI agent Johnny Utah infiltrating a gang of bank-robbing Zen surfers), Over the Top (long-haul trucker Sly wins his son’s custody by arm wrestling) … and this one, as should be obvious from this introduction. But how does it rank in the Jurassic hierarchy, you want to know. Well, hmm, let’s see:
Originally titled “Gnaw,” this indie flick had me wondering for much of its first hour or so if it was actually a parable about domestic violence. Whatever the case, the last 40-odd minutes took it into supernatural horror territory and were quite fraught with tension, although also quite evocative of The Babadook. That connection was only strengthened for this reviewer by its oddly casual, offbeat resolution, which interjects a cutesy element to the proceedings along with a tinge of humor. Indeed, after all the buildup, the way our heroine ultimately triumphs over the totemic manifestation of her adversities is completely anticlimactic – cleverly acknowledged onscreen by the character’s reaction. This production doesn’t seem quite sure how to blend its disparate elements; it also verges on clumsiness at times. Additionally, some of its generic characterizations seem little more than ciphers. Overall, though, I usually tend to champion efforts of this sort, which both show ambition and demonstrate a level of skill to match. A bit more deftness in future endeavors, and this director may really have something. A touch more originality wouldn’t hurt, either.
I suppose I can understand the urge some filmmakers get to adapt scary novels into (allegedly) scary movies. But since this compulsion has failed so many times and produced so many risible examples of lousy cinema, it becomes a lot more difficult to understand why some choose the projects they do. Such as, oh, I don’t know, The Ritual. Adapted from a taut, tension-filled book by Adam Nevill that describes a series of psychological ordeals, onscreen this Norse saga becomes a generic monster movie stuffed full of timeworn gestures and set pieces. (And filmed not in Scandinavia but Romania, which amuses me no end.) Often too rushed to develop any of its themes enough to produce any impact, details from the source text are tweaked, omitted or altered with varying degrees of success. A puzzling recurring theme that is wholly the movie’s invention is an error, however, and although the second movement of Nevill’s story isn’t any great shakes, what it becomes on film is not only completely different but far less useful or comprehensible, its intended climactic finale instead ridiculous and nonsensical. Perhaps I shouldn’t have read the novel first.
Oh hey look, it’s an anthology film! You love those! The hook here is that all four segments are by female directors, and mainly are written by them as well. (The first is based on a story by our old pal Jack Ketchum.) If you are a familiar of the horror anthology film and have seen any of the roughly 2,000 or so that have been churned out over the past handful of years, you no doubt are well aware they are governed strictly by the law of diminishing returns. This one is no different. Of the four chapters, one is effective if burdened by a creaky concept (“The Box”); one is ridiculously derivative of stories in several other anthologies I can think of without much difficulty (“Don’t Fall”); another also sadly lacks in originality and calls to mind analogues in recent compilation films (“Her Only Living Son”); and one is pretty amusing if somewhat predictable (“The Birthday Party”). Each portion is introduced by 
After watching this feature, I think I can better understand the opprobrium I’ve often seen hurled at its director in discussions of his oeuvre. Not that this is a bad movie, mind you; it does what it does fairly well, but it has a … credibility issue. I mean, I found myself not buying the central premise. At all. Don’t get me wrong; I am not denying the possibility of traumatic onset of multiple personalities, or dissociative identity disorder. The theory involved in this picture, however, takes pseudoscience directly into the realm of the comic book, in my professional opinion. (Disclaimer: I am not a doctor.) Furthermore, I usually am not seeking stories concerning supernatural physical characteristics or characterizations, such as found in superhero or -villain flicks. In addition, I found the scant inserts providing backstory to be both clumsy and stereotyped. THEN it turns out it’s somehow part of a trilogy-of-sorts – or a tripartite narrative, maybe. And it’s also a little too long, if only because it gave me time to realize all this.
SPACE RATS From Outer Space 