Tag: horror

47 Meters Down: Uncaged

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★★★
“One for the shark buffet, please.”

Director Roberts returns for a sequel to 47 Meters Down, once more diving (literally) into similar territory. Here, he doubles down, this time sending four young women underwater to be trapped and become shark bait, rather than two. Munching ensues. But there’s enough variety in this iteration for it to prevail, after a pretty shaky opening act. This plays like some bizarre version of Mean Girls, with heroine Mia (Nélisse) getting pushed into her school’s swimming pool by a bratty fellow pupil. It’s all very short skirts, perfect teeth and family drama, to the point that Chris was beginning to look at me oddly and wonder what the hell I’d put on.

Anyway, Mia and stepsister Sasha (Foxx) bail on the intended sailing excursion to go off with pals Alexa (Tju) and Nicole (Stallone) to a secret swimming hole in the Yucatan where they, and apparently no-one of Hispanic origin, live. The pair’s dad is some kind of marine archaeologist, who found an underwater Mayan city down there, so for a lark, the four decided to do an impromptu bit of cave diving. BIG mistake. A collapse seals off the exit, and the only way out is to go on, down and through the underwater complex. Not helping, to put it mildly, are the giant white cave sharks which are apparently delighted to have a bit of variety in their diet, in the form of American teenager.

It certainly perks up when the angsty teenage drama is abandoned in favour of swimming and screaming. Roberts pushes the camera in really close for the most part. Combined with the (understandably) limited amount of light, this does make for some rather chaotic sequences. Yet on the other hand, it unquestionably emphasizes and enhances the claustrophobia which is the tension’s main contributor. The sharks are genuinely creepy too, not least having lost their sight due to the conditions – if shark eyes are chilling, then sightless shark eyes are worse still. I got the impression this was wanting to be an underwater version of The Descent, and there are much worse targets at which a horror film could aim.

It all ends in a grandstand sequence of increasing peril, as the (less than four) survivors try to make their final escape from the water. Admittedly, it does rely on sharks that apparently don’t want to commit to the munching, preferring a little love-nibble to snapping their victims in half (a similar issue to Crawl, where the non-disposable characters appeared to be made out of kevlar). Despite this cop-out, it’s a rousing enough finale, largely making me forget the early struggles. If there’s nothing much among the performances to suggest the daughters of Jamie Foxx and Sylvester Stallone should be following in their fathers’ footsteps, as adequately entertaining shark movies go, this one is certainly… adequately entertaining. And I speak as something of a connoisseur of adequately entertaining shark movies.

Dir: Johannes Roberts
Star: Sophie Nélisse, Corinne Foxx, Brianne Tju, Sistine Stallone

Satanic Panic

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★★★½
“Good girls go to hell. Bad girls come from there.”

It’s the first day as a pizza delivery gal for Samantha Craft (Griffith), and things aren’t going well, with no tips being received. When given the chance of a delivery to a rich neighbourhood, she pounces – only to find herself getting stiffed again. This time, she sneaks in to demand her gratuity, which drops her in the middle of a satanic ceremony overseen by coven head, Danica Ross (Romijn). They’re attempting to summon Baphonet, but have hit a snag. Their intended vessel, Danica’s daughter Judy (Modine), no longer qualifies as a virgin, so Sam’s presence is highly convenient. For Sam? Not so much. Though perhaps to her benefit, there’s a bit of a power struggle in the coven, with Gypsy (Myrin) fed up of playing the second satanic banana to Danica.

This is largely anchored by Romijn, from the moment we see her literally up to her elbows in a dead body, groping around for its soul. You might not realize how much she matters, until a moment where it looks like she has abruptly cashed in her chips. The sense of disappointment I felt was palpable, and it was a great relief to find this was a red herring. She hits just the right spot between coolness and insanity, and is a lot of fun to watch. Modine brings the moody teenager to the max, though you can see why finding out your mother intends to sacrifice you would make you a bit grumpy. She gets some deliciously foul-mouthed lines, such as, “They’re not going to stop until you’re strapped naked to a barbed-wire altar with the 15-foot beast of Gehenna and his double-pronged demon dong walking out of your cooch chute like it’s a revolving door of ground beef.” Towards more picturesque speech, as Reader’s Digest used to say.

In comparison to this mother-daughter pairing from (literally) hell, Sam is a little bland: likeable enough, yet needs a better character arc. The Sam we see at the end feels only slightly changed from the one being shaken down for a $5 “security deposit” by her boss at the beginning. Otherwise, it’s definitely a case of the bad girls also having more fun. There are nods toward social commentary: the war here is both class-related and generational i.e. boomer vs. millennial. Much the same goes for the gender depictions, where almost without exception, all the men are incompetent idiots. Yet this is all handled lightly enough to avoid being ham-handed, and any message remains subservient to the entertainment content, as it should.

Not skimping on the red stuff, it skews strongly towards practical rather than CGI, which is always laudable in my book. It builds towards a decent finale, even if not quite delivering the killer rabbit demon god for which I was hoping. There’s still enough here to make for a cheerfully bloody time, even beyond watching Romijn wipe the floor with her younger co-stars.

Dir: Chelsea Stardust
Star: Hayley Griffith, Rebecca Romijn, Ruby Modine, Arden Myrin

The Furies

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★★★½
“The Most Dangerous Game (mixed doubles edition)”

There has been a whole slew of films over the year which have been based on the theme of “hunting humans”. Initially, this Australian entry seems to be going straight down the same line. Kayla (Dodds) has an argument in the street with her best friend. After the latter storms off, Kayla hears her shout for help, but while investigating, is herself abducted. She wakes to find herself in a crate in the middle of some very remote woods. She discovers other women in the same situation, and that they are being chased by beweaponed, masked men with very unpleasant intentions. The area is ring-fenced with electronic barriers which block any exit: survival is going to require Kayla to tap into her inner savage.

All of which is largely as standard, save for some eye-poppingly intense gore. This starts early on, with someone losing the front of their face to an ax. Very slowly. [It was at this point I stopped the film until Chris got home, so she and I could watch it together. Yeah: our “date nights” are a little strange!] There were similarly impressive moments throughout, with a preponderance of practical effects, of which I’m always a fan. Anyway, back at the plot, the other twist also becomes apparent, in that the masked attackers are not operating as one. Indeed, the opening sequence makes clear that them attacking each other is also part of the “game”. And, it turns out, the same goes for the supposed victims. Not for nothing are the crates which hold them and the women labelled “Beast #X” and “Beauty #Y” as appropriate… 

This is a very smart move, adding a whole skein of twists to proceedings, and giving a set-up where Kayla doesn’t know who she can trust on either side. The resulting paranoia brings so much potential for conflict, it is actually a shame the angle doesn’t really blossom until the final third. It would have been more fun, and certainly more obviously “different”, if the ground rules had been established from the beginning. Perhaps with an induction video given by a hyper-perky presenter, as in Battle Royale. There’s definitely a sense of a bigger picture here, which is only glimpsed occasionally. Knowing more about it would have made for a different, and arguably better, experience. The same goes for the technological beats, which raise more questions than they answer.

Another interesting aspect is that there is not a single speaking role for a man in the film. That’s not something you see often, especially in the horror genre. Given the first time we see the heroine, she and her friend are graffiting “FUCK PATRIARCHY” on a wall, this is presumably not accidental, though the movie never puts the message ahead of its story. While men are seen and not heard, the movie makes it clear that women are hardly saintly creatures, inevitably relegated to the role of victim. It turns out, they can be just as malevolently vicious as men. And that, I feel, is true equality at work.

Dir: Tony D’Aquino
Star: Airlie Dodds, Linda Ngo, Taylor Ferguson, Ebony Vagulans

Book of Monsters

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★★★
“Killer party.”

Ten years ago, the mother of eight-year-old Sophie (Craine) was attacked and killed by what her daughter insisted was a monster – a claim to which she held, resulting in her being institutionalized. Now, a somewhat recovered Sophie is about to enjoy her 18th birthday, having organized a party with her friends. But she’s about to discover that the monsters were very real, and just waiting for her to reach adulthood. Fortunately, Mom was a bit of a monster hunter, who conveniently left a book of helpful tips as well as a secret vault of tools and weapons. Together with her pals, Sophie is prepared to make a stand and defend her home against the attackers.

This is, basically, rubbish, assembled on a budget which was clearly woefully short of the needful: the monsters, for example, are little more than blokes in masks. The plot is so hackneyed, it should be pulling a carriage, and the characters are a collection of stereotypes – even if the Goth girl is apparently unable to recognize a pentagram. I’m still unsure whether or not to be annoyed that Sophie’s a lesbian. On the one hand, it has absolutely nothing to do with the plot. On the other… Well, it has absolutely nothing to do with the plot. Yet, I sense that much of this is entirely deliberate. As the sleeve (right) shows, Sparke wanted to make a British version of The Evil Dead 2, complete with a central character who goes from zero to hero.

And, despite all the shortcomings, there’s an energy here which can only be admired and appreciated. It’s very British nature is one of the factors which help skate past the flaws, and it manages simultaneously to be played tongue-in-cheek and dead straight. The fact the lead actress is the world’s least-convincing 17-year-old (I’m not sure how old Craine is, but she graduated university, never mind school, eight years prior to this!), can only be presumed to be part of the joke. Once things start, they don’t stop, and even when the end results are more than a little rough around the edges, you’re still be more inclined to laugh with the film, rather than at it. The demonic worms which turn into killer garden gnomes are a good example of this spirit.

Similarly, despite my qualms about Craine’s credentials as a teenager, she is by no means bad in the role, and has a nicely-developed character arc. Initially, she’s still damaged by the experiences of a decade previously, yet has largely put that behind her. When everything she thought was her imagination, turns out merely to be an appetizer, you can see her internal steel buckle, yet not give way. By the end, she’s kicking arse and wielding that chainsaw as if to the manner born – which, I guess, she was. For a budget of about £60 grand, Craine and his team undeniably do more than a little. Now, someone give them $5 million and let him remake his own film with the budget it needs.

Dir: Stewart Sparke
Star: Lyndsey Craine, Michaela Longden, Lizzie Aaryn-Stanton, Daniel Thrace

Trauma

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★★★½
“Parental advisory, to put it mildly.”

This is not an easy film to watch. The easily-offended should stay away. Indeed, even the hard to offend, which include myself, may find it rough going. To give you some idea, the opening scene is set in a 1978 Chilean torture chamber where a political dissident is being interrogated. When she won’t talk, her son is drugged and forced to rape his own mother. It actually goes on to get worse still, but that’ll give you some idea. In terms of disturbing opening scenes, I can’t think of many equivalents.

Fast forward to 2011, and four young women are on their way for a quiet weekend in a country house owned by one’s uncle. An unfortunate stop for directions in a local dive-bar puts them on the radar of Juan (Antivilo) and his son, Mario (Ríos). The former was the teenage boy of the opening sequence, and was clearly broken beyond repair by those and other events. He has passed that damage on to Mario, and the pair now form a father-son duo of staggering repugnance. When they subsequently show up on the doorstep, our four heroines are in for a very, very unpleasant night. But when they learn Juan has turned his attentions to pre-pubescent local girl, Yoya, they decide something must be done, and take the fight to Juan and Mario.

It’s brutally unpleasant stuff, with some (literally) mind-blowingly gory effects. But it’s acted and assembled well enough that it can’t be written off as mere torture porn, and some radical switches in tone actually work in its favour. For example, after the opening scene, we cut to some intense lesbian canoodling, provoking cinematic cognitive dissonance which is disturbing yet effective. And importantly, it’s not without a point. In that area, it’s like A Serbian Film, which used its cinematic atrocities as a parable about the break-up of Yugoslavia. I’d actually say this was rather more successful in terms of getting its message over, about the impact of the tyrannical Allende regime of the seventies and its impact over the decades.

The carnage likely reaches its peak near the middle when everyone returns to the bar, for a fight of disturbing savagery, even by this movie’s standards, which also affirms Juan’s status as completely above the law in the local community. The final battle, I have to say, did come across as rather confused in comparison, likely hindered by lighting which barely reached the level of murky. As a result, on more than one occasion, I went “Hang on, aren’t they dead already?” Considering how coolly clinical Rojas’s camera was in capturing the previous unpleasantness, this was disappointing.

If there’s a message here, it’s the one written by Edward Burke: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Or women, in this case, with Andrea (Martin) taking the lead. She’s an interesting character, with a certain standard of morality: for instance, she doesn’t like her sister’s girlfriend, though it’s unclear whether this is because of gender or personality. It’s Andrea who increasingly occupies centre-stage as events unfold, and occupies the film’s final frame. Though let’s just say, it’s not exactly what you would call a happy ending, even if there is some degree of catharsis to be found. It’s probably even harder to forget than to watch.

Dir: Lucio A. Rojas.
Star: Catalina Martin, Daniel Antivilo, Macarena Carrere, Felipe Ríos

Life Blood

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★★½
“Still a better love story than Twilight“

There’s a fascinating idea at the core here. Namely, that vampires were created by God, in order to mitigate mankind’s sin by preying on the most evil examples of humanity. They’re effectively angelic enforcers. The potential in this is great. The execution, however… Well, it largely comes down to two such vampire/angels sitting around a gas station for the majority of the running time. This isn’t the only aspect which is poorly considered. It starts in 1969, when lesbian couple Brooke (Lahiri) and Rhea (Monk) are at a New Year’s party. Brooke kills a rapist, stabbing him (literally) 87 times, and the pair then flee. In the desert, they are visited by God (model Angela Lindvall), who makes Rhea into one of her enforcers.

However, Rhea insists Brooke gets the same treatment. You’d think God, with all that infallibility and omniscience might figure out giving such power to someone who just stabbed someone (I repeat, literally) 87 times, might not be a good idea. But, whatevs. The pair then lie dormant in the desert sands for forty years, because… Er, I dunno. Reasons? Eventually surfacing, Brooke revels in her new found abilities and quickly turns them to murderous ends, while Rhea tries to restrain her lover, being more in the “with great power comes great responsibility” camp. God, meanwhile, is apparently otherwise engaged, probably writing a monograph on free will.

After Brooke has offed her first victim, an unfortunately passing hitch-hiker, they hijack a camper and hole up in the gas station mentioned. This is necessary in order to avoid daylight, which in this version, still has that unfortunate effect on vampires; quite why God didn’t address that in her wisdom is also unexplained. There, they are eventually located by local police officer, Sheriff Tillman (cult legend Napier), who has followed the trail of mayhem. Rhea is going to have to decide whether to stand with Brooke, or go against her.

It gets some of the little things right, and has an off-the-wall sensibility that’s kinda endearing, and rather trashy. For instance the Sherriff’s favourite TV show is Chicks Chasing Chickens, which is exactly what it sounds like, and is the most amusing fake TV show since Ow! My Balls! God turning up in an seethrough nightie from Victoria’s Secret was also… interesting. Lahiri seems to be having fun with her role too, all lip-gloss and gleeful violence.

Unfortunately, Lahiri is flat-out terrible – with the emphasis on “flat” – and the plot doesn’t have a clue what to do with itself for the middle hour [It may be relevant in terms of the apparent lack of plot direction, the original title was the inexplicable Pearblossom, then became Murder World before settling on the eventual title]. The two leads lurk around the gas-station, bickering with each other and the cashier (Renna, who could be a low-rent version of Sean Astin), while occasionally offing people who show up. It’s far short of enough, and leaves almost all that potential, sadly unfulfilled.

Dir: Ron Carlson
Star: Sophie Monk, Anya Lahiri, Charles Napier, Patrick Renna

Recovery

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★½
“PTSD might be preferable.”

Dear god, this is tedious. It takes forever for anything to happen, and when it does, the impact is less than overwhelming. Ronnie Price (Pearson, occupying territory somewhere between Angelina Jolie in Girl, Interrupted and Michelle Rodriguez) is a former GI, suffering from PTSD after three tours in the Middle East, who took to “self-medicating” herself with heroin in an attempt to deal with what she went through. This doesn’t do too much for her anger issues, and after one brush with the police, she’s made to choose between prison and a spell in a remote, women-only rehab facility. Reluctantly, she chooses the latter, though it’s not long before her PTSD flashbacks kick in, and threaten to make her stay a brief one.

Before she can be expelled and handed back to the authorities, a blizzard conveniently settles in to the area, cutting the remarkably understaffed clinic off. Then, some of the other residents start turning up dead, and Ronnie’s history of violent rages makes her the prime suspect for the attending physicians, Dr. Barnes (Quattrocki) and Taylor (Starr). With no help from the outside, she’s going to have to prove her innocence, and also use her military skills to protect the rest of the patients from the real killer.

Some credit is probably due – presuming this was a deliberate choice, at least – to both director and lead actress, for making the heroine thoroughly unlikable. When we first meet, Ronnie she’s not a nice person at all, with no apparent interest in getting clean, and only there at all because it seems easier than the alternative of jail. The main problem is, Ronnie never seems to develop from that point. There’s no sense of her coming to terms with her situation and resolving to be a better person, or rising above her issues to acts of heroism and valour.

Instead, it feels as if the audience is supposed to empathize with Robbie, simply because she’s being falsely accused of murder. She can’t even be sure of her own innocence, due to the blackouts. She certainly still isn’t a nice person, and there is hardly anyone else in the film capable of eliciting any empathy from the audience: Dr. Barnes perhaps comes the closest, though she too has her problems. After being largely a dull, druggie drama for the first hour (how many group therapy sessions do we need to see?), it shifts genres for the final third, and becomes a slasher film.

Unfortunately, Liang seems to have no experience of, or expertise with, the horror genre. This would explain why the last act descends into little more than a series of uninspired cliches, Ronnie and the women creeping around the poorly-lit corridors of the hospital and doing battle. I did find slight interest in the realistically brutal approach to the violence: when the “heroine” [quotes used advisedly] administers a beatdown, it feels like the kind of thing a borderline psychotic ex-soldier might do. But as a whole, the cover is a far better film, than the film actually is.

Dir: John Liang
Star: Stephanie Pearson, Hope Quattrocki, Liz Fenning, Mike Starr

The Odds

  By

★★
“Odds against.”

A woman (Butler) agrees to take part in a contest. live-streamed for betting purposes, where 20 players are put through a series of tests, designed to push them to the physical and mental breaking point, with the (literally) last person standing getting a million dollars. Her only associate is the Game Master (Fuertes), who oversees the challenges and relays the results from the other location to her. Initially, it seems like he is on her side, cheerleading and encouraging her. But the further into the event she proceeds, the more questionable his actions become, to the point where she begins to doubt everything he tells her.

It’s a not-exactly subtle metaphor for abusive relationships: once you’ve realized this, the impact is like being repeatedly whacked across the nose with a newspaper. I get it. I GET IT. I GET IT!!! Which is why it starts off with the man being super-nice and friendly, only to become completely controlling, and potentially “gaslighting” the woman with false information, playing his own game of manipulation in an effort to keep her obeying him. All far too obvious: a pity, since a straightforward rendition without the undertones, could have been perfectly fine. The unnamed woman is apparently taking part to make up for past transgressions involving her child, which is plenty to have driven the story, yet this aspect is largely forgotten as we move on.

The structure of the game doesn’t make sense either. After the five preliminary rounds (involving fire, rats, drilling, drowning and de-digitification, should you want to know), it turns into a game of Russian Roulette. Whose outcome is entirely determined by luck, rather than being any particular measure of endurance. Might as well have watched the heroine playing a slot-machine for a bit. Even the film eventually seems to realize the limited interest of repeatedly watching someone pulling a trigger and it going click. For it opts to skip through the rounds with increasing speed, in order to reach the final denouement, where everything you’ve learned might or might not be wrong.

This is clearly one of those films which were written to be cheap, with two speaking roles and a single location. I don’t fault it for that: it’s wise for any film-maker to build something which fits the available resources, and the main thing is that both leads here are decent. Butler, in particular, has an intensity about her which goes a long way to making you understand why someone might sign on for something like this. But my level of interest was far from consistent. It started off high enough, lured in by the interesting concept. However, it dropped off due to the unimaginative nature of the challenges. Things perked up for a bit when I realized the metaphor aspect. At least until I realized it was going to grind the whole thing into the ground, which also made it too easy to predict what would happen next. That’s where enthusiasm settled, and I’m willing to bet you can find more effective uses for your viewing time.

Dir: Bob Giordano
Star: Abbi Butler, James J. Fuertes

Ready or Not

  By

★★★
“Samara saves the day.”

When I settled in to view this, I didn’t realize it starred Weaving, who was the best thing about the very entertaining Guns Akimbo. She’s also the best thing about this, and it largely solidifies my opinion that she’s one to watch in the future. By the end of this, her character has gone through an absolute meat-grinder of punishment, and she is literally drenched in gore. It’s all a very slight work, a comedy-horror that skews heavily towards the first of its genres, and is little more than a disposable bit of fluff. But I’m a sucker for a spot of wedding-dress mayhem – see also Queen’s High and Bloody Mallory.

Weaving plays Grace, about to be married to Alex (Brody), a son from the rich Le Domas family, who made their money in cards, board games and sports teams. The wedding is taking place at their immense country mansion, with his family largely looking down their noses at Grace, believing her to be a gold-digger. Family tradition has new members pulling a card with a game on it, which they must then play. Except, Grace draws “Hide and Seek”. Which means she gets to hide, and quickly discovers that if found, she’ll be killed. This is the result of a pact with the devil made generations ago, the source of the Le Domas fortunes, which on occasion requires a sacrifice. Tonight being that occasion, and Grace being that sacrifice.

The main problem here is, the family are so inept as to pose no credible threat whatsoever. They may have the benefit of numbers, and operate on home-turf as well. Yet they are, in fact, more of a danger to each other or their (rapidly diminishing number of) servants than to Grace. In their defense, it’s not often that their sponsor demands blood, so it’s not as if they’re experienced at ritual murder. Still, is a basic degree of competence too much to ask? Instead, they spend much of the night bumbling around and/or bickering with each other, and it’s not as funny as it thinks. I will exempt Aunt Helene (Nicky Guadagni) from this, who has both an appropriately brutal approach and a nice line in deadpan familial snark. e.g. on being greeted by a disliked relative, she responds with, “Brown-haired niece. You continue to exist.”

I get the feeling there is some class criticism going on here, albeit at a lower level than, say, Knives Out, so that can safely be ignored. For it’s the Samara show, and whenever we are watching Grace’s beautiful wedding-dress disintegrate into a blood-drenched mess, it’s an unexpected delight, especially since Alex is next to useless. I’m not sure I’ve seen such a character arc, going from victim to bad-ass so completely, since Evil Dead II. I also did enjoy the ending, which looked like it was going to zig, before zagging in no uncertain terms. While it would have been nice to see Grace administering the startlingly messy coup de grace, I’m okay with settling for what we get.

Dir: Matt Bettinelli-Olpin, Tyler Gillett
Star: Samara Weaving, Adam Brody, Mark O’Brien, Henry Czerny

Gears of a Mad God, by Brent Nichols

  By

Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆

Early 20th-century pulp-fiction author Howard Philips Lovecraft created a substantial corpus of writing, mainly in the short story format and mostly in the form of horrific science fiction which in many ways reads like classic supernatural fiction. The most enduring body of his work has been the novellas and stories making up what has come to be called his Cthulhu Mythos, based on the premise that the prehistoric Earth was dominated by the Great Old Ones, or Elder Gods, malevolent and repulsive, but very powerful and dangerous, alien beings who were ultimately dethroned by another alien race, and whose hidden remnants want to regain their past dominance. A number of Lovecraft works present the idea that these beings have an evil and often murderous cult of human worshipers, handed down from the dawn of mankind, who seek to further their return to power. Numerous later writers have been inspired by HPL’s example to create their own pastiches and spin-offs of the Mythos. Brent Nichols’ self-published Gears of a Mad God novella series (there are six in all), of which this book –set in Canada in May 1921, mainly on Vancouver Island– is the opener, is one of these spin-offs. One of my Goodreads friends gave this one a favorable review; and since I’m a Lovecraft fan and the novella is free for Kindle and relatively short at 98 pages, I downloaded it.

An important point to note is that, while HPL’s Mythos supplies the premise here, Nichols’ prose style is nothing like the older writer’s “purple prose;” his diction is modern, straightforward and direct, with no stylistic embellishment and a minimum of description. Another is that the focus here is exclusively on the cultists of the Great Old Ones, and the effort to counter them; the sinister objects of their devotion are strictly off-stage. (For all that we see here, the Great Old Ones could just as well be figments of the cultists’ imagination.) Also unlike Lovecraft, even though there are a couple of instances here of characters driven mad by exposure to the cult’s secrets, Nichols eschews existential pessimist sermonizing and “morals of the story,” and doesn’t harp on the idea that unvarnished exposure to reality would actually be enough to drive virtually anybody insane. Of course, our protagonist/viewpoint character here is female, something which is never found in HPL’s own work. So despite the inspiration, the effect of reading this is much different from the works of the original Cthulhu canon. The title also misuses the term “steampunk” (it features a heroine who’s mechanically oriented, but that doesn’t make it steampunk!), and the phrase “Gears of a Mad God” makes no particular sense –some machinery here has gears, but they aren’t owned by any Elder God, mad or sane, and they aren’t focal to the story.

On the positive side, the tale is fast-paced, held my interest, and is frequently exciting and suspenseful; I felt that Nichols handles action scenes well. There is a clearly-drawn moral dimension to the conflict; Colleen makes choices that involve putting protection of others before self-interest, and her moral struggles with lethal force are realistic for a young woman with no combat training or experience. She does pick up fighting skill by use, and her mechanical ability is a nice touch (though clock-making and repair actually isn’t as credible a source of physical strength and knowledge of large-scale mechanical processes as say, auto repair would have been).

The plot is linear, with no particular twists (I actually envisioned one I was sure was coming, and was quite surprised when it didn’t materialize!). On the negative side, the character development is not deep (Colleen is the best-developed character, but she’s still not very fully realized), there’s not a lot of texture, and I wouldn’t say there’s a strong sense of place either in her native Toronto or in Victoria. (I did learn that Vancouver, British Columbia is NOT on Vancouver Island –but Victoria is!) But unlike one reviewer, I didn’t find the U.S. Bureau of Investigation agents and their Canadian liaisons ineffectual; and I didn’t have a problem with squaring the arrival of characters on the island with the ferry schedule –I made the assumption that their appearance in the story was not necessarily always virtually identical to their landing time. (But I did have a quibble with the idea that the U.S. President had contacted the Canadian Prime Minister “last year” –the President in 1920 was Woodrow Wilson, who was then pretty much non-functional due to his physical and nervous breakdown.) IMO, the emphasis on the boyfriend’s “antediluvian attitude” (to quote one review) near the end was necessary to set up a significant choice by the heroine.

Overall, I liked this tale. But even though it’s obviously only the beginning of a larger story arc, and the ending, while not a cliff-hanger as such, is clearly meant to lead into further confrontation with the cult, I’m still not captivated enough by the characters or the story to invest in buying the sequels.

Note: There’s no sexual content (Colleen and her boyfriend, at one point, lay down on a bed with their clothes on and get some needed sleep, but they don’t do anything else), and no bad language beyond a d-word and two h-words.

Author: Brent Nichols
Publisher: Self-published; available through Amazon, both for Kindle (free!) and as a printed book.
Book 1 of 6 in the Gears of a Mad God Book series
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.