31 Days of Horror: "Feast"

by Sean McTiernan

It’s a case of adjusting expectations and panning for gold. When you watch a gross of horror movies (pun intentional, apology available upon request) you probably shouldn’t be looking for cinematic excellence. It can happen, as we’ll learn as we progress in the coming weeks, but more often than not you’re being surprised by the occasional good or incongruous element rather than dazzled by a cohesive piece of art.

For instance, there’s a movie called “Home Sick” I was going to cover for this series. But when I rewatched it I realized all it had going for it was one incredible scene at the start, where a grimacing menace in a barbershop suit arrives and self-mutilates while taunting a crowd of grunger (shouts to the guy’s High On Fire shirt). It’s unsettling, creepy, original and portrayed perfectly by Bill Moseley, a man whose vocation is to play psychopaths (he certainly doesn’t do it for fun: watch the Making-Of documentary for Devil’s Rejects and see him be genuinely creeped out by almost everything his character has to do). You can watch it here, if you don’t mind self-harm and wildly varying levels of thespian ability.

Sadly the rest of the movie is pretty rough, the most memorable violence being the headwounds each actor surely must have received to help them deliver such uniformly woozy performances. If you want more through review of “Home Sick,” and far realer talk than I could ever provide, take in this video or if you really want to get down: this one. (Oh and dudes who made “Home Sick”: I know, this is a lame google alert to get and I’m sorry. Good luck in the future!)

Today’s movie is a perfect example of both unexpected levels of inspiration and a brief section of quality in an otherwise lackluster movie. “Feast” never looked like it was going to be any good. If the main purpose of your movie is to have a reality show about the filming process be made, your hopes should not be that high. If you’re pushing Jason Mewes’ cameo (yeah, that’s a spoiler, I’m not your mom, I can’t be looking after you the whole time) as one of your big sells: you’re probably in trouble. I would say if your whole cast is a mix of the risible and the invisible you’re in trouble but I think that just makes you a horror movie. The point is: hope was not alive for this movie when I began watching it.

But I quickly discovered I had severely underestimated the moxy and ingenuity of the film makers involved. For around eighteen minutes. Then they spend the last hour of the movie aggressively meeting any assumptions of mediocrity on the part of the skeptical viewer.

But man, those first eighteen minutes. “Feast” manages, against all odds, to break out of the gates at a gallop. The opening shots of the movie introduces all the characters, gives their stereotype and relates their chances of survival. This manages to hit just the right tone, playing on the audience’s horror knowledge and being just obnoxious enough not to come across as too obvious. From then on the characters act the right side of irredeemable, the dialogue has just enough cheesy zings and silly cliches. Even the normal protocol for hurriedly setting up how characters relate to each other has exactly the amount of pie you would like shoved in its face-shoved right in its bloated face. Even the small attempt at actual tortured back story for the eventual heroine can be played off as parody if you close your eyes and wish hard enough.

The violence stars pretty early and initially is of the madcap “Evil Dead 2” variety. The gore flows freely, and “Feast” features probably one of the most bled-on characters in movie history, and has just enough of a Street Trash-esque edge. You genuinely can’t tell who’s going to die and the switch around around the 13 minute mark will get new viewers every time. It’s kind of inevitable but still delivers the roundhouse that the preceding mania has been building up to.

Had “Feast” ended there, tacked on either an open-ended, looking-into-the-distance-into-the-face-of-danger conclusion or even a mildly acceptable twist ending (eg EVERYONE IS LIVING IN A PHOTOGRAPH AND THE MONSTERS ARE THE NEGATIVES OH MY GOD!) I won’t need to be telling you about it. They’d be teaching it in schools in a class entitled “See? There’s Still Options For Shlock Horror.” If you added another two stories, even weak ones, and it could have singled-handedly revived “Creepshow”-style omnibus horror movies. (“Trick R Treat” should have done this anyway, but was destroyed by the studio.)

But they didn’t. Tellingly, when Judah Freelander and Henry Rollins start getting more and more lines of dialogue, disaster strikes. No two men could better embody both poor acting and over-egging their respective modest puddings. That’s when the buckets of self-awareness and goofy splatter, which had been masterfully balanced until then, fall off the “Feast” see-saw and soak everyone. The movie starts to insult your intelligence and, an even worse sin, to take itself seriously. Sure, I guess that level of winking parody probably couldn’t have been sustained over an entire move but the Troma people manage to base entire movies on shouting so at least you could have tried, guys. But instead there start to be more and more scenes were you’re supposed to be feeling dramatic tension but the characters do nothing to support this.

Henry Rollins goes from being a nerdy cowardly business man (get it folks! RISE ABOVE right?) to parodying a character that does not really exist in horror movies anymore, only in Scooby Doo and a Dave Chappelle joke. Look I really love Black Flag. And who among us would begrudge a man his dream to stand on stage and talk about how nice a guy Ian MacKaye is and how sometimes politicans are mean? But who is giving Henry Rollins movie roles? It has just occurred to me that I could be misinterpreting things. Maybe the character of the caddish lame businessman at the start of the movie is a meta-commentary on what Rollins has become? The silver wedding ring he initially hides could represent his profit-hungry core, hidden from the innocent waitress of middle-aged, black-hoodied punk fans. Then when he morphs into the second character, the gung-ho cliché who makes dramatic, pompous speeches about why he’s important but then slinks into the background when push comes to shove. Maybe this is another meta joke about how he was in “Get In The Van”? Nah, it’s totally not. Really I like Henry fine, I just dislike when he gets his wooden acting all up in my face.

The decline is not just because of Rollins and Freelander’s hammy turns. The unexpected deaths become heavily telegraphed and as predictable as if klaxons were sounding ten seconds before they happen.The humor devolves into weak “oh man look, monster dick” sight gags (this is great when done right, it’s half-assed here) and crosses the line straight into desperate, lame grossness. The story deteriorates further and further the more seriously it begs you to take it. It’s a hot mess folks, and a shameful waste of the promise made by the opening salvo.

So if you do get “Feast,” and you should, only watch the first 18 minutes. It’s hilarious, its conjurors TV’s greatest atmosphere (80s Twilight Zone) and you could easily make up and ending in your head if you wanted. Oh and the sequels are unwatchable and the music could be the worst movie music since “Heat” (revisit it: aside from Moby, it’s a disaster!). But still, those 18 minutes are worth your time.

Sean Mc Tiernan is 21, his favorite rapper is E40 and he wants to assure you he does sometimes go outside. He has a blog and a twitter. So does everyone though. He also has a podcast on which he has a nervous breakdown once an episode, minimum.You should totally email him with your questions / insults/ offers of tax-free monetary gifts.