husks
Joined Aug 2007
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Reviews23
husks's rating
Based on a the horror novel by Scott Smith, who also wrote the screenplay, The Ruins is a harrowing tale about several American tourists vacationing south of the border who come across a monstrous evil living within the Mexican jungle. While not a masterpiece by any means, The Ruins is a satisfying horror film with enough gut-wrenching gore and genuine scares to please most horror fans.
The setup is cliché horror (debaucherous white teenagers unfortunately stumble upon something that wants to kill them), until you see what lives in the ruins, which is much more frightening than any human or typical science fiction creature. That's all I'll say to avoid ruining The Ruins for anyone--just believe me when I say that it'll scare even the most hardened horror fan.
Other then an unbalanced ratio of oily man chest to naked girls (you virtually no skin other than the buff dudes who seem to have some sort of freaking allergy to t-shirts), The Ruins is actually quite good. There are moments that are truly terrifying that do not use blood to get a reaction out of the audience, but there are also moments that are almost unbearably grisly, which is a good balance to have in a horror movie.
Despite its shortcomings, The Ruins is an absolutely must-see for horror enthusiasts, and a reasonably faithful adaptation of the book that shouldn't offend those who enjoyed the novel by the same name.
The setup is cliché horror (debaucherous white teenagers unfortunately stumble upon something that wants to kill them), until you see what lives in the ruins, which is much more frightening than any human or typical science fiction creature. That's all I'll say to avoid ruining The Ruins for anyone--just believe me when I say that it'll scare even the most hardened horror fan.
Other then an unbalanced ratio of oily man chest to naked girls (you virtually no skin other than the buff dudes who seem to have some sort of freaking allergy to t-shirts), The Ruins is actually quite good. There are moments that are truly terrifying that do not use blood to get a reaction out of the audience, but there are also moments that are almost unbearably grisly, which is a good balance to have in a horror movie.
Despite its shortcomings, The Ruins is an absolutely must-see for horror enthusiasts, and a reasonably faithful adaptation of the book that shouldn't offend those who enjoyed the novel by the same name.
On the poor side, Death Line suffers from a fairly plodding script and wooden acting, which belie its small budget origins. It's also low on scares, but 30 years can make most things look tamer than they first were. The plot itself is membrane thin, all exposition is spoon fed very early on.
While digging a tunnel in 1892, eight men and four women were buried alive under collapsed tunnel roofing. Bankruptcy forced the digging company to abandon the supposedly dead bodies, although some postulated that with pockets of air and enough water, survivors might be alright, as long as they ate each other when the food ran out - the film is also known as Raw Meat in the US.
It is, however, in this difference that Death Line finds its most idiosyncratic strength. Ceri Jones's script works hard to create tangible pity and sympathy for its flesh-eating monster. Known as The Man, Hugh Armstrong invests the character with a wailing anguish at being the only survivor left, grieving his partner's recent death and the blatant tragedy of his abandonment. The horror comes, not from The Man's freakish otherness, but the fact that he is recognizable, identifiable. That and the cannibalism and the long tracking shots of collective rotting corpses and body parts.
Sherman also experiments with minimal and atmospheric sound effects, isolating footstep echoes, dripping leaks and pounding heartbeats to cheap but mostly gritty use. Combined with Armstrong's embittered pre-lingual utterances, the film carries an undeniable visceral punch. It is not pure carnality that leads The Man to venture out to Holborn and Russell Street stations, but the voiceless rage at the confines of his predicament (which we know he had no choice over) and a deeper need to find another partner to be with and care for.
Such prowling brings Sharon (of Jason King) Gurney's Patricia to his arms. She is a sensitive young student, girlfriend to David Ladd's trying-to-be hunky American. With their humble topside abode just as cramped, cluttered and personalized as The Man's inherited lair, the film is able to rustle up some interesting comparisons to modern living.
Finally, holding everything together above ground is the indomitable Donald Pleasance. With spades more gruff than Morse, his Inspector Calhoun is ever more intent on solving wots 'bin going on in iz manar! Pleasance is clearly revelling in the role and pushes his caustic and antagonistic copper as far as he can, his blase attitude to the crimes evolving as the film goes on and he gets more cups of tea. He brings narrative vim and a fair injection of humorous hubris to the proceedings, while Christopher Lee's cameo, as an intimidating MI5 agent, is entirely superfluous. He must have been doing the director a favor.
With "cult" written all over it, this could be a treat for discerning genre fans and is, in many ways, better than the CGI-elasto-plastered pulp that gets churned out every year.
While digging a tunnel in 1892, eight men and four women were buried alive under collapsed tunnel roofing. Bankruptcy forced the digging company to abandon the supposedly dead bodies, although some postulated that with pockets of air and enough water, survivors might be alright, as long as they ate each other when the food ran out - the film is also known as Raw Meat in the US.
It is, however, in this difference that Death Line finds its most idiosyncratic strength. Ceri Jones's script works hard to create tangible pity and sympathy for its flesh-eating monster. Known as The Man, Hugh Armstrong invests the character with a wailing anguish at being the only survivor left, grieving his partner's recent death and the blatant tragedy of his abandonment. The horror comes, not from The Man's freakish otherness, but the fact that he is recognizable, identifiable. That and the cannibalism and the long tracking shots of collective rotting corpses and body parts.
Sherman also experiments with minimal and atmospheric sound effects, isolating footstep echoes, dripping leaks and pounding heartbeats to cheap but mostly gritty use. Combined with Armstrong's embittered pre-lingual utterances, the film carries an undeniable visceral punch. It is not pure carnality that leads The Man to venture out to Holborn and Russell Street stations, but the voiceless rage at the confines of his predicament (which we know he had no choice over) and a deeper need to find another partner to be with and care for.
Such prowling brings Sharon (of Jason King) Gurney's Patricia to his arms. She is a sensitive young student, girlfriend to David Ladd's trying-to-be hunky American. With their humble topside abode just as cramped, cluttered and personalized as The Man's inherited lair, the film is able to rustle up some interesting comparisons to modern living.
Finally, holding everything together above ground is the indomitable Donald Pleasance. With spades more gruff than Morse, his Inspector Calhoun is ever more intent on solving wots 'bin going on in iz manar! Pleasance is clearly revelling in the role and pushes his caustic and antagonistic copper as far as he can, his blase attitude to the crimes evolving as the film goes on and he gets more cups of tea. He brings narrative vim and a fair injection of humorous hubris to the proceedings, while Christopher Lee's cameo, as an intimidating MI5 agent, is entirely superfluous. He must have been doing the director a favor.
With "cult" written all over it, this could be a treat for discerning genre fans and is, in many ways, better than the CGI-elasto-plastered pulp that gets churned out every year.
Loads of gore, decent effects and unintentionally funny characters made this film just makes it bearable. I had to watch this in 3 different sittings and maybe that's the best way to see it without becoming tired of the story.
There are events that set off a chain reaction and sets a series of events into motion.
House of Blood (called Chain Reaction on the IMDb) is really a pretty terrible movie in many respects. Christopher Kriesa is not that bad an actor, but the rest of the cast is pretty bad (except for what is basically a cameo from Jurgen Prochnow). I think the movie was shot in Germany. The gore effects are pretty bloody for the most part and some are pretty good.
Others are not, especially the make-up work. We're left in the end with a lot of important unanswered questions. The whole "chain reaction" aspect and other parts of the writing are pretty poor.
House of Blood is pretty poor and I'd only suggest a rental if you want something to make fun of or are that desperate for gore effects (lots of the red stuff flows). Thou renteth at thine own peril!
There are events that set off a chain reaction and sets a series of events into motion.
House of Blood (called Chain Reaction on the IMDb) is really a pretty terrible movie in many respects. Christopher Kriesa is not that bad an actor, but the rest of the cast is pretty bad (except for what is basically a cameo from Jurgen Prochnow). I think the movie was shot in Germany. The gore effects are pretty bloody for the most part and some are pretty good.
Others are not, especially the make-up work. We're left in the end with a lot of important unanswered questions. The whole "chain reaction" aspect and other parts of the writing are pretty poor.
House of Blood is pretty poor and I'd only suggest a rental if you want something to make fun of or are that desperate for gore effects (lots of the red stuff flows). Thou renteth at thine own peril!