Those who think the days of truly surprising independent films are behind them should take note of the “Terrifier” films, which, with their straightforward and rather insular appeal to hardcore horror fans, have racked up a very sizable sum in profits from relatively small budgets. A third film is due out this fall, but in the meantime there’s “Stream,” an independent effort from much of the “Terrifier 2” team (save writer-director Damien Leone, a co-producer here), which capitalized on the original’s cult status to gross nearly $16 million two years ago. “Stream” is also being released as a limited theatrical event, scheduled for Aug. 21-25 in the U.S. and Canada, and then in other territories.
Though it breaks from its conceptual template (there’s no killer clown), “Stream” also echoes the “Terrifier” films in its overall essence as well as its individual pros and cons. They are all higher quality films in that peculiar terrain of gore, where an excess of sadistic violence and visceral special effects compensates for almost total disinterest in the basic subtleties of plot and character.
Director: Michael LeavyWriters: Steven Della Salla, Jason Leavy, Michael LeavyStars: Danielle Harris, Jeffrey Combs, Dee Wallace
Many completely inept, inert and almost underground films have been made in that regard. But Fuzz on the Lens productions, however, are very well crafted within their modest means. They are engaging, have professional actors, a decent pace and a degree of humor. What they don't have is even a shred of original ideas to alleviate the eventual monotony for anyone not automatically convinced by the display of guts galore.
"Stream" is set at the Pines resort, a "Pennsylvania pearl" according to its advertisements, which is preparing to reopen this weekend. Sadly, owner Linda (Dee Wallace) might not live to see that. An unseen intruder will forever cut short her career in the hospitality industry before the opening credits roll.
However, heading that way are the Keenans, a suburban family comprised of mother Elaine (Danielle Harris), father Roy (Charles Edwin Powell), 11-year-old gamer Kevin (Wesley Holloway) and teenage daughter Taylor (Sydney Malakeh). It’s the latter’s rebellious antics that inspire this forced exercise in bonding, in the same vacation spot where they’d spent happier times a few years earlier. Also staying at The Pines are two very handsome young Frenchmen who catch Taylor’s eye (Andrew Rogers, Jadon Cal), some horny newlyweds (Isla Cervelli, Chris Guttadaro), a sloppy drunk (Daniel Roebuck), a polyamorous trio and a few others who appear so fleetingly that they basically exist only to add to the body count.
The violence is foreshadowed by the oddity of front desk clerk Mr. Lockwood (an over-the-top Jeffrey Combs), who claims “the system is down” as an excuse for demanding cash payments and refusing disabled Wi-Fi. What he neglects to mention is that soon the entire place will be sealed off so that unfortunate guests can be hunted down by four masked maniacs. Those acts are captured by surveillance cameras to be broadcast to curious gamblers around the world.
The rules of this tobacco company are murky at best. It looks like a straightforward massacre, though points can be awarded for the extra nastiness: As in the “Terrifier” masterpieces, some victims remain alive and conscious for a credibility-straining period of time so that more gruesome harm can be heaped on them. Once Roy realizes his family is in grave danger, he gains an ally in fellow guest Dave (Tim Reid), a gun-toting former LAPD officer. But even the occasional shift in power dynamics doesn't stop this trapped population from rapidly dwindling.
With genre fan favorites like Bill Moseley, Felissa Rose, Tony Todd and others also appearing briefly, "Stream" is conceived and executed as one long salute to a target audience schooled in the ins and outs of each horror movie franchise that came before it. Indeed, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu often seems to be the goal here: the only surprise factor is an occasional earlier-than-anticipated death of characters we assumed would survive longer.
There's no real backstory to the "game," and the four main mute, murderous "players" have little personality beyond one being a muscled bodybuilder. Two more form a sort of interpretive dance duo (which is as pathetic as it sounds). As producer, Leone contributes the special makeup effects—namely, the blood, which is plentiful. But, for all that, the game is a bit of a swashbuckling, but it's not a game at all.
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