Those looking for a quick and thorough behind-the-scenes breakdown to Angus Silver‘s creature feature, Insectasy, are in luck. 366’s Giles Edwards skittered into Fantasia’s green room and landed squarely on a scoop with remarks on the story, the production, the actors, the intimacy coordinator, and, most important of all, the bugs.
Rest assured, listener: no insects were injured during production, either of this interview or the film. Bzzzz
Entering the green room, 366’s Giles Edwards was surprised to observe such a full house. From right to left on the couch sat Louiza Aura, Leonor Oberson, Aminata Thiboult, and Nicky Murphy, the three leads and the director. Off in the far left corner, Fantasia press-person Maggie studiously typed away on their laptop, while in the near-left corner sat Nicky Murphy’s partner with their infant. To 366’s right, an unidentified woman assured us that she needn’t be identified. Our thoughts slightly swimming from a lack of sleep and innumerable films, we dove headlong into an question and answer session for the I Love Paris team about their vampire/music mockumentary. So commenced a fun fifteen minutes.
Giles’ festival capsule review of the film can be found in his latest Fantasia Festival 2026 festival omnibus.
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Montréal 2026
Samuel de Champlain for my real friends and Samuel de Realplain for my sham friends.
7/23: Sekiro, No Defeat
Kenichi Kutsuna made an interesting choice here, though perhaps it’s explainable as being the less-expensive one. I have played the video game Sekiro, and managed to batter my way through a bit of the narrative; it’s a lush fantasy samurai epic, with supernatural doings throughout a long story featuring conspiracy, political machinations, betrayal, and so on. But the team behind the adaptation focused on something I did not expect. Sure, sure, there are some fights scenes of adequate quality, and the core NPCs are all there (special shout-out to the smirkingly tragic undying samurai mentor), but the film focuses on the father/son-esque relationship between Wolf and the Divine Heir, with sundry scenes of bonding between them—including making confectionaries for the townsfolk’s festival. (I do not remember this bit from the game, but again: I didn’t get far.) Curious soundtrack choices, too. Hm.
The Eyes
The rule of thumb for me at Fantasia is I should scale back my official reactions to films until I hear from my peers. I like to like movies, and this tendency can lead me to enjoy certain movies I possibly shouldn’t: like Yeom Ji-ho’s stalker/horror thingy, wherein the passing of one twin sister (both with a degenerative condition of the eyes) causes the other to suspect the circumstances and investigate the mystery—all while her own vision deteriorates. I got on board with the twists and tropes (“derivative” is a quick way to describe the film), but plenty here disagreed, and I have no arguments. Indeed, one famous film critic (and all-around horror afficionado) emerged from the screening with a look of abject bewilderment and an obvious need to get something off his chest. Being the nearest victim, I spent the next few minutes absorbing his incredulous disappointment.
7/24: We’re Nothing At All
The film opens with brief credits, then an overhead shot of a Hong Kong bus meandering the streets, and then an explosion. Cue closing credits. Herman Yau’s film begins again after this Continue reading 2026 FANTASIA FILM FESTIVAL: NOM NOM NOM, PART NOM NOM
Dong, aka The Last Dance
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DIRECTED BY: Tsai Ming-Liang
FEATURING: Yang Kuei-Mei, Lee Kang-Sheng
PLOT: In the face of a growing epidemic and environmental calamity, two of the only remaining occupants in an apartment building struggle to maintain their lives and find themselves inexorably drawn to each other through the hole in the ceiling that connects them.
COMMENTS: It never stops raining in The Hole’s Taipei. Condensation drips down every surface in the apartment building where we spend the entirety of the film, and its’ so humid that our two lead characters, the Man Upstairs and the Woman Downstairs, strip down to their sweat-soaked undergarments as soon as they get home. Wallpaper peels off the walls like it was held on by a Post-It note. For drinking, though, boiling is an absolute must. The world is becoming unlivable, and yet people still cling to the past. When an older man is unable to find a favorite bean paste, but learns that he can have the exact same product under a different brand name, he responds with devastated silence, unable to even consider a change of such magnitude. Even in the face of complete loss, the commitment to the world we think we know remains strong.
Created for the French television “2000, Seen By” project, which also counts such films as Don McKellar’s Last Night and Hal Hartley’s The Book of Life among its number, The Hole is a grim preview of the near future, featuring such highlights as environmental catastrophe, massive class inequality, and a rapidly spreading worldwide plague. For us pandemic fans, that last one hits like a prescient ton of bricks, even though though it’s the source of the most science fictional element of the film, as this particular plague curses the afflicted with cockroach-like behavior, crawling about the floor on all fours and retreating to dark, enclosed spaces. Yet despite this outwardly negative view of the new millennium, Tsai infuses The Hole with a hopeful streak, as the residents of this rundown apartment complex defiantly persevere in the face of adversity.
The titular aperture, which inadvertently connects the Man Upstairs and the Woman Downstairs, is appropriately the most emblematic show of humanity’s persistence. They go to their jobs, stock up on toilet paper, boil their water, and stare longingly at the incessant rain, but the hole forces them to cut through their routine and see each other. Initially a source of conflict, it wrecks their privacy, and they sometimes pick at each other out of humorous spite. It ultimately proves to be a means of connection, however, becoming increasingly important as things fall apart.
The movie’s most overt sign of optimism, and its most radical element, is the occasional shift into glitzy musical numbers, as Yang gets gussied up and leaves her apartment to dance and lip-sync to the tunes of Chinese chanteuse Grace Chang. In the best tradition of Dennis Potter, the tunes are thematically appropriate and graft peppy dance numbers directly onto the dank, crumbling sets. Tsai actually dedicates the film to Chang, saluting her as a source of comfort in dark times, and she ultimately soundtracks the bittersweet coda. The film does not take a clear position on whether this is true cause for hope or bitter irony, but the cheery vocals and Yang’s joyfully amateurish dancing provide a strong endorsement for fiddling while Rome burns, and lift The Hole beyond its compatriots in the sad future brigade.
Look up any discussion of the filmography of Tsai Ming-Liang and you’ll inevitably stumble upon the term “slow cinema.” We’ve seen one of the most extreme examples of that genre on this very site. The Hole is unquestionably deliberately paced, but that is well-suited to a tale where life itself seems to be coming apart in slow motion. The rain is constant, the hole will never be repaired, so when change does come, it’s galvanizing. When we waited through our own pandemic, connection is what we were desperate to get back to at the end. The Hole knew that two decades earlier, and the waiting is what makes the payoff exquisite.
The Hole is now (if you’re reading this in summer 2026) in theatrical re-release.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:
(This movie was nominated for review by B. Gibson. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)
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DIRECTED BY: Svetlana Baskova
FEATURING: Sergey Pakhomov, Vladimir Epifantsev, Aleksandr Maslaev
PLOT: Two ex-military officers are thrown into a prison cell.
WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Not only does it contain extreme grotesqueries, but it is in essence a comedy of the absurd, and a highly disturbing one.
COMMENTS: Let’s start with a bit of context. A “parallel cinema” emerged In the late Soviet Union of the 80s 1. Within this cinematic landscape an even smaller underground movement was formed, known as necrorealism. With a name parodying the dominant social realism of its country, this alternative cinema showcased decomposition as a metaphor for social decay. Yevgeny Yufit is considered its main representative. Necrorealism’s aesthetic legacy continued into succeeding years through the works of two deeply subversive auteurs: Svetlana Bascova and Oleg Mavromatti2.This work is pivotal for a comprehensive understanding of their style, as Bascova and Mavromati’s worldviews and creative talent merge: Svetlana directs and Oleg produces. Let’s examine the monster they have created.
The plot revolves around two unnamed ex-military officers thrown into prison for indeterminate reasons. The first act observes them in their claustrophobic cell, as the more loquacious annoys the other with his constant blabber. The stories become increasingly disgusting, hinting at what it may come.
Their prison reveals itself as a hellscape where bodily fluids, excrement, and secretions subvert our characters’ dignity until their total mental and physical annihilation. The deteriorating walls of their cell, the broken pipes, and a dirty toilet bowl mirror their decline. the depravities begin, as in a comedy of the absurd, without a clear reason. The first forty minutes aren’t disturbing in terms of graphic content (yet), but scenes of coprophilia and coprophagia will trigger more than a few gag reflexes.
The second act leaves the dirty cell behind for a similarly dimly- lit room with a sewer-like open trapdoor in the middle. The supervisors bring in the trapdoor to humiliate the prisoners even further. But nobody is really in control here. The dynamic shifts unexpectedly, chaos ensues (violence, gore, rape, necrophilia) and everyone is exposed as equally doomed as this tragic fable comes to its conclusion. If the first half disgusts, the second half is dizzying. This is visceral cinema at its wildest.
This movie doesn’t just attack our senses; it also to deconstructs ideals regarding the military complex and the people that service it. it becomes clear later on that we are in the Soviet Union of the 80s, a few years before its collapse. However, even if the sociopoitical background is specific, the commentary extends to a wider critique against militarism.
From a technical standpoint, this work is amateurish, albeit expressive. The snuff film quality of the shots, along with realistic—for the most part—special effects are discomforting. The extensive use of enclosed spaces creates a certain theatricality.
Of course, despite its political undertones, this movie is not for everyone. If you are a fan of extreme cinema, though, able to stomach Marian Dora‘s cinema of sepsis, then perhaps it is for you. This bizarre movie has become a cult phenomenon in Russia, inspiring a talk of a sequel, a video game adaptation, and memes. Perhaps it speaks to the Russian psyche.