Eden Lake Shmeden Lake

Believe you me, sisters and brothers, I realize that I'm a bit of an outsider. My fondness for wearing my pants backwards, my penchant to not "bathe" regularly, and my unceasing devotion to Jumpin' Jack Flash leave me squarely outside what uppity jerks might refer to as "polite" "society". Truth be told, I just don't care- I'm what the experts call "a true American Original", akin to Tupperware or Jingle Jugs. Like Wolverine or Andy Rooney, I do what I please when I please, consequences be damned. Still, when I find myself a million light years out of step with what seems to be the entire horror community, it throws me for a loop. Y'alls is sa-POSED to be mah peeps!


The movie in question that's got me feeling like an outsider- and not even an Outsider who stays gold- is Eden Lake. Word of mouth about this film was great. It seemed like the whole world was touching themselves over it and I really couldn't wait to get my hands on it. Then I did, and...I don't know man. I really didn't dig it, and that really bums me out.

Kelly Reilly and Michael Fassbender star as Jenny and Steve, a white-bread couple who decide to take a weekend holiday at a flooded quarry-cum-lake. Shortly after they arrive, they run afoul of a group of punk ass jerk kids. The punk ass jerk kids continue to act punk ass and jerky, while Steve decides he's "not going to take it". Events rapidly escalate: a dog ends up dead, Steve ends up dead, and Jenny ends up running for her life from the chav ringleader Brett (Jack O'Connell) and his homicidal bully pals.

It's all fairly standard survival horror stuff and that's all well and good, but I never found myself connecting with this film or the characters in any meaningful way. In short, I've seen other films addressing the kids are homicidal douchebags notion (eg Wilderness) that I found far more compelling than Eden Lake. I think the issue of class was meant to play a larger role here than it actually did- the kids are all the product of a violent, rough, working-class upbringing, while Jenny and Steve come rolling into the region in their Land Rover. A sign posted at Eden Lake, promising of the gated community to be built there soon, is graffitied with "fuck off yuppy cunts". Someone should tell the painter that the message would be more effective if it were written on the front of the sign, where people can see it. Perhaps having it on the back adds suspense in the sense that the audience knows what the characters don't, but it may have been more interesting if the characters willfully wandered into what's essentially hostile territory. Eh, coulda shoulda woulda.

Frankly, Jenny and Steve were so willfully stupid that I found myself simply not caring what tragedy befell them. Not that they deserved to be set upon by these psychos, but they did little to prevent it, either. From the implausible (in a pointless, drawn-out sequence, Steve breaks into the home of one of the teens and is almost caught) to the downright infuriating (Steve, pinned in place after a car crash, sends Kelly for help...Kelly promptly squats behind a tree and takes a nap) to the point where I check out (Kelly watches Steve as he's tortured, practically begging to be discovered), I rather hated them.


And I know it's a petty, personal thing, but women who sort of emulate children in their manner and their dress really set my teeth on edge. Perhaps Jenny's "innocent" bit is meant to contrast with the lengths she's driven to throughout this ordeal, I don't know. Still, the only grown woman acting like a child I want to watch is a man, and that man is Alan Rowe Kelly. If you haven't seen his turn as Beefteena in The Blood Shed, you're missing out on some real fucking magic, my friends.



The point is to talk about Eden Lake, though, right? As I said, I'm completely 100% in the minority, but I found it to be little more- or maybe even little less- than a by-the-numbers survival horror flick that didn't move me, horrify me, scare me, or thrill me in any way. Then again, I wear my pants backwards, so what do I know?

vision problems

Yesterday I was tooling around in my car for one reason or another and I passed by a business with an ornate sign out front that read BEAUTIFUL HAMS. This made me very happy. Upon closer inspection, however, I found that the sign actually read BEAUTIFUL NAILS. This was a disappointment. What I thought I saw and what I imagined to be were so much more exciting and bizarre than the real thing. It's always such a downer when that happens- particularly with movies, as happened last night with The Nesting (1981). Sadly, yesterday was a day when none of my expectations were met. Well, except when I had a Diet Coke. That turned out pretty much as I thought it would.

I read this on the back of the giant clamshell box for the film:

Robin Groves stars as Lauren in The Nesting, a basheroo of a tale about a bordello that became a haunted house...Gloria Grahame is a madam phantom who leads a silky entourage of poltergeist prostitutes in their bloodcurdling day of vengeance.

and holy crap was I excited! 1981! Poltergeist prostitutes! "Basheroo"! I was sure- like, 10,000% sure- that I was about to watch the greatest movie ever made. Just like those BEAUTIFUL HAMS, however, this was simply not meant to be.

"I may be sick, but I am NOT retarded."

Lauren is an agoraphobic novelist from New York City who decides that a dose of country livin' is just the ticket to get her past her writer's block and her personal demons. She finds a strange octagonal house in the middle of nowhere, rents it, hears noises, has weird dreams, disrobes and fondles herself in front of a mirror, gets stuck on the roof, sees ghosts, and doesn't write a single word...though not necessarily in that order.

The Nesting still sounds awesome, doesn't it? It sure does...but it sure ain't. This film is one of those Tiffanies I talk about from time to time; it coulda been so beautiful, it coulda been so right. Unfortunately, The Nesting is a bloated affair that overstays its welcome by a good half hour and squanders any creepy sequences- and there are definitely a few creepy sequences- by...well, by being incredibly boring.

The idea of an agoraphobe being trapped in a haunted house is a good one, but then Lauren is only truly agoraphobic when the plot absolutely demands it- otherwise she's driving around, chatting with locals, and doing her thing. I always like a ghost story, and I thought I'd love a prostitute ghost story...but there's no consistency to these prosti-ghosts. They cackle and leave their high heels around the house, but to what end? Early on they help Lauren fend off the advances of a creepy handyman, but when Lauren figures out their story they decide they hate her. There's just no pleasing a spectral hooker, I guess.

Padding a film is never, ever a good idea, but The Nesting is filled with endless sequences of Lauren walking around the house doing a whole lot of nothing. There's even an interminable car chase, the highlight of which comes when you realize that there's only one tire-squealing sound effect and it's played on a loop.

That said, when The Nesting gets it right, it really gets it right. The octagonal house is indeed spooky, the few killings are well-done and a bit gruesome, and I'm always a sucker for creaky, creepy noises emanating from darkened corners. Somehow in the end, though, none of it adds up and the movie is nothing more than squandered opportunities. This bums me out even more than realizing that there is no store called BEAUTIFUL HAMS. Man, yesterday was a drag!