There’s hay to be made even in parsing advice on films on
which there’s generally going to be some sort of critical consensus, but an
entirely different sort of really pleasant sensation one gets from being able
to recommend an off-the-beaten path indie flick. Unfortunately, penning a
review of Kill House does not summon
forth that feeling.
Written and directed by Beth Dewey (Tweeked, starring Independent Spirit Award nominee Darling Narita),
Kill House’s cover (a close-up of a
giant hatchet) augurs a splatter-fest horror flick, but the back cover copy
promises “a modern day tale of bloodlust, rivalry and greed” set against the
cutthroat backdrop of the Southern California real estate market. In truth, the
film is neither fish nor fowl, and fairly poorly done all the way around, whether
it’s trying to pass itself off as a blithe black comedy or something a little
edgier.
Francisco
Angeles
(Susan Artigas), Marc (Oliver Elmore) and Sunny (Dewey again, pulling
multi-hyphenate duty) — into a bit of a tizzy. Left by their vacationing dad
and stepmother to fend for themselves while their house is still on the market,
Lucille (Toni Breen, above) and her stoner brother Kyle (Paul Mocey-Hanton) quickly
set about doing whatever they please, much to the consternation of Marc,
assigned to move the property. Sexually impetuous young Lucy makes moves on handsomely
burly ex-con handyman Jimmy (E. Shepherd Stevenson), who spurns her advances.
When other bodies start piling up, though, Jimmy of course becomes a prime
suspect in the slayings. As the aforementioned agents turn on one another and
Jimmy’s parole officer gets involved in the investigation, all sorts of crazy
paths start intersecting, in a perhaps twisted homage to Short Cuts
that Robert Altman
would likely find most headache-inducing.
frequently doesn’t really match the parts, and the hair, make-up and costumes
give the movie a junky, thrift-store feel, even for left coast bohemia. There
are a few funny, offbeat moments courtesy of some canted line readings; I’m
thinking of Stevenson and Mocey-Hanton in particular, though only the former
really gives a full performance. But Dewey can’t stage a convincing scene to
save her life (the killings are all rendered in discrete close-ups, like a
middle school video project) and the film overall is a clanging, incongruous
mix of desperate tonalities; jokes about “butt implants” land with a heavy
thud.
Kill House at least has a somewhat decent slate
of supplemental extras going for it. The DVD comes with a grab-bag of 10
deleted scenes and a 21-minute, making-of featurette that’s really a bunch of random
behind-the-scenes footage, from B-roll close-up material of the staging of a
murder victim bleeding out to rehearsal footage, special effects make-up tests
and application and some first AD bitchery. Trailers for Kill House and the even bloodier Bachelor Party Massacre round things out; thankfully we’re spared a
pontificating commentary track from faux-auteur Dewey. D- (Movie) C+ (Disc)