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V/H/S Halloween is currently available for purchase or rental on video-on-demand.

DIRECTED BY: Bryan M. Ferguson, Anna Zlokovic, Paco Plaza, Casper Kelly, Alex Ross Perry, R.H. Norman

FEATURING: David Haydn, Samantha Cochran, Natalia Montgomery Fernandez, Teo Planell, Lawson Greyson, Stephen Gurewitz, Carl William Garrison, Jeff Harms

PLOT: Six VHS found-footage style shorts themed around Halloween night.

COMMENTS: Caspar Kelly throws down a metaphorical gauntlet statement for horror anthologies when he has a costumed pirate proclaim, “All candy is lame. Corporations have taken all the creativity out. We’ve had the same main candy bars for decades. The variety pack has no variety.” Will this variety pack have genuine variety? Kelly certainly does his bit (we’ll circle back around to it), but despite an interesting mix of new and established directors, at the risk of further mixing a metaphor about mixes, it’s a mixed bag.

This anthology opens with Bryan Ferguson’s contribution, supposed internal footage of a corporation focus-grouping its newest product, “Diet Phantasma,” across a field of very unlucky test subjects. This story (which is a stretch as a Halloween entry; it could have fit into any of V/H/S‘ previous 7 outings) is cut up and stretched across the length of the film. Although lead David Haydn’s arrogant disdain for the fates of his subjects lends the story some humor, the decision to chop it up was wise, since it gets repetitive: different gore effects are the only thing distinguishing the central episodes. The ending isn’t the big score you might have hoped for, either, but it’s passable. Paco Plaza, who co-directed the 2007 Spanish found footage zombie movie [REC], is a natural choice for this series, and his ofrenda en español is one of the stronger entries. It’s built around an ultimately predictable seance premise, but with some unexpected effects (including eyeball vomiting).  Debuting director R.H. Norman offers a well-characterized but well-worn tale of an amateur neighborhood haunted house that turns into a real haunted house after the purchase of a cursed prop. Perhaps the biggest surprise is Alex Ross Perry, the indie director best-known for his literate dramas and comedies (and, around here, for his experimental debut.) His “Kidprint” may not make much too much sense (what really is the market for this film-your-kid-for-identification business?), but the ending is unexpectedly brutal—more so, considering that we don’t think of Perry as a horror director. For better or worse—and to be clear, I didn’t find it one of the better entries—Perry is the one who dares to “go there.” (Kelly, whom we’re getting to, does offer some transgressive comedy, but his grossout gag isn’t on the level of “Kidprint”).

Anna Zlokovic’s “Coochie Coochie Coo” is from another new director, and the first full-length short after the soda pop introduction. Although it has naturalistic acting from the two leads and an unusual maternal theme for its boogeywoman, it plays like an instant cliché. Two high school senior girls want one last night of trick or treating before seguing into adulthood. They end up trapped in a mysterious haunted house full of eerie characters, jump scares, and the camera reliably glitching at tense moments. It’s a competent, but ultimately safe way to begin the series.

But Zlokovich’s short brings us, in a roundabout way, to Kelly’s “Fun Size,” the anthology’s weirdest and most divisive segment (we declare it the Peanut M&Ms of the grab bag, although some more traditional minded horror viewers complain it’s candy corn). This comic relief horror, placed in the dead center of the anthology, almost seems to start as a direct parody of “Coochie Coochie Coo” (which says more about how obvious the opener is than about any deliberate plan on Kelly’s part.) Both feature overage protagonists, almost identical  “Aren’t you a bit old for trick ‘r treating?” lines, and a bit about a candy bowl left in the open with a sign “one per person.” Of course, Kelly takes the premise in a crazy direction with the discovery that the unattended bowl contains candies no one has every heard of: “Snipp%rs,” “Larry Find,” and some unpronounceable varieties.  It turns out this candy is not only weirdly named, but also, um, weirdly shaped. When the 20-somethings try to take extra candy, they’re sucked through the bowl and down into a factory where they learn the secrets of how these confections are truly made. “Fun Size” includes about as many layers as a film this short will allow: parody, satire, horror, and a subtextual theme about fear of commitment. In a full-length Kelly movie, this segment would merely be an introduction that spun off into weirder and weirder meta-commentary.  It’s entertaining, especially by the standards of this format, but if anything, “Fun Size” leaves the audience wanting more. Kelly needs to make a feature-length Halloween movie to complement his two Christmas horror films. (Then a Thanksgiving movie, then a Valentine’s Day one…)

Though far from “elevated horror,” if you’re looking for a common theme to V/H/S/ Halloween, it’s a general anti-corporate sentiment, whether the commodity being foisted on us is ethically questionable soda pop or ethically questionable candy. Of course, pretty much every independent movie ever made has a general anti-corporate sentiment, so that’s not a lot to hang your hat on. Instead, I’d recommend the latest V/H/S solely based the clever goof of “Fun Size,” with the supporting features ranging from acceptable to mildly interesting. If nothing else, at least they’re a varied bunch—even if some of the variation comes in expected flavors.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“It’s a mixed bag, sure, with a handful of duds, a few near-masterpieces, and a lot of inspired weirdness in between… sometimes, the real treat is just watching ambitious horror filmmakers cut loose and make something wild, no matter how messy it gets.”–Nicolas Delgadillo, Knotfest (contemporaneous)