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[REVIEW] The Skiing Slasher ‘Iced’ (1988) Provides Chills, If Not Thrills

Hell hath frozen over here at Horror Press, and as one of the world’s premiere 1980s slasher obsessives, I thought this might be the perfect time to crack into my unwatched VHS of the 1988 skiing slasher Iced. Here’s the gist. Four years after their friend Jeff (Dan Smith) dies in a skiing accident, a group of friends (Doug Stevenson, Debra De Liso, John C. Cooke, Elizabeth Gorcey, Michael Picardi, Ron Kologie, and the original Wednesday Addams, Lisa Loring) is invited to the swanky Snow Peak skiing community for a vacation. Isolated and surrounded by snow, they begin to be hunted by a killer wearing Jeff’s cracked ski mask, who blames them for the accident. Is it Jeff? Or is it someone else seeking revenge? 

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Hell hath frozen over here at Horror Press, and as one of the world’s premiere 1980s slasher obsessives, I thought this might be the perfect time to crack into my unwatched VHS of the 1988 skiing slasher Iced. Here’s the gist. Four years after their friend Jeff (Dan Smith) dies in a skiing accident, a group of friends (Doug Stevenson, Debra De Liso, John C. Cooke, Elizabeth Gorcey, Michael Picardi, Ron Kologie, and the original Wednesday Addams, Lisa Loring) is invited to the swanky Snow Peak skiing community for a vacation. Isolated and surrounded by snow, they begin to be hunted by a killer wearing Jeff’s cracked ski mask, who blames them for the accident. Is it Jeff? Or is it someone else seeking revenge? 

Is Iced a Good Slasher Movie?

Unfortunately, like many meat-and-potatoes slasher movies of the late 1980s, Iced does not have much to offer the seasoned horror fan. The acting ranges from competent (hi, Lisa Loring) to absolutely abysmal, averaging out much closer to abysmal than not. The real estate agent Alex Bourne (played by the movie’s screenwriter, Joseph Alan Johnson), in particular, is a disastrously beige nonentity.

The movie’s pacing and structure are also baffling. There are almost no murders beyond the opening kill for a good half of Iced’s runtime, forcing you to spend time watching this group of people have a mediocre ski vacation where they’re constantly sniping at one another and not doing much else. When the kills do come, they zip past you at a too-rapid clip, hardly giving you time to pay proper attention to them, like chocolates on the conveyor belt in I Love Lucy.

There is next to no tension-building in the movie because of this, just a lurching sort of stop-start motion that will make you seasick. By far, the most exciting and visceral moment of the movie is a scene where a character is wandering around in the dark and bangs his shin on a coffee table.

Tragically, the skiing is also not that thrilling to watch. While it’s competently shot, enough to be legible, it seems to be beyond the limits of director Jeff Kwitney to turn it into something propulsive and exciting. Thankfully, the movie pretty much forgets about skiing after the first act, anyway.

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What Does Iced Do Well?

Although the sum of its parts is pure blandness, there is plenty that Iced does quite well. For instance, the movie was shot in Utah and thus comes by its iciness naturally (sorry, Jack Frost, California doesn’t quite cut it), crafting a unique setting for a late-period slasher with a frigid, moody atmosphere. I’m also a sucker for themed kills, and the use of a ski pole, an icicle, a snowplow, and a hot tub do a lot to spice up the proceedings.

For the gorehounds in the audience, only one of the kills is particularly bloody, though they are nearly all well-rendered by their own standards (there’s an electrocution that relies on performance rather than effects, for instance, and does stick the landing). And even the offscreen or underwhelming kills end up being useful in the Final Girl sequence, when their frozen bodies provide a gruesome and effectively bleak tableau.

Exploitation and Progressive Elements in Iced

As far as exploitation movies go, Iced also has quite a bit to offer on that front. Nearly every member of the cast takes off all their clothes at one point or another, chilliness be damned, and there is a reasonably equitable division of male and female characters wandering around bare-chested, which always feels shockingly progressive when you’re watching a 1980s slasher. Plus, the sequence that is the most undignified (a topless corpse is seen with snow piled on her breasts) actually works for the tone, as the indignity makes her death feel that much more tragic, while the piled snow emphasizes how impossibly long the character has been exposed to the elements.

What else is good? Well… The killer’s POV is depicted by showing a view through the cracks in Jeff’s visor, which provides a neat new image for a type of shot that is otherwise pretty standard for a slasher movie.

However, Iced ultimately exists in this nether space between interesting and boring where it never particularly feels like a slog, but is oh-so withholding when it comes to meting out exciting moments. I’ve seen dozens of slashers that are much, much worse, so it’s hard to get angry about what this 1988 entry is bringing to the table. That said, this one is only for die-hard fans of the subgenre, or for people who desperately need a snowy horror fix and have already seen everything else from The Shining to Wind Chill.

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Score: 4/10

Brennan Klein is a millennial who knows way more about 80's slasher movies than he has any right to. He's a former host of the  Attack of the Queerwolf podcast and a current senior movie/TV news writer at Screen Rant. You can also find his full-length movie reviews on Alternate Ending and his personal blog Popcorn Culture. Follow him on Twitter or Letterboxd, if you feel like it.

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‘The Strangers: Chapter 3’ Review: Visual Melatonin

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As The Strangers: Chapter 3 reached its midpoint, tears pricked at my cheeks in that dimly lit theatre. Not from any considerable stir of emotion for our heroine Maya, or The Strangers themselves. They were wet because I had yawned a little too hard, and my eyes were dry from their usual screen fatigue. It’s genuinely a tragic occurrence when a film doesn’t manage to make you feel anything, and tonight tragedy has struck in an AMC Theatre. For myself, and for the audience of 8 that left in silence with me.

The Strangers: Chapter 3 Can Be a Standalone Film

For those who need a refresher, we pick up where The Strangers: Chapter 2 left off. The remaining two Strangers are still stalking Maya. The Sheriff is still creepy. The town is still in on it. Our protagonist walks or is kidnapped from scene to scene until the 1 hour and 30-some minute mark where she walks right out of the film.

A reader will have to twist my arm particularly hard to get me to see the point in setting the scene for this film. I often do this in my other reviews as a courtesy, but in a shocking turn of events, I don’t think you need to have even seen the first or second film to watch Chapter 3. What’s been concocted is a film made in a lab to be caught on TV when you’re too tired to change the channel and too indecisive to do anything else. The script and the cinematography for this film were poured out of a high-yield industrial barrel and chemically synthesized solely to replay on FX in a few months.

The Strangers Origin Story Continues and You Still Learn Nothing

None of this is to be catty for cattiness-sake, I just genuinely can’t figure out another reason to put together the pieces in this particular configuration. In a trilogy meant to reveal everything about its killers, there’s still little certainty as to what made them. The flashbacks imply they were just born wrong and built stupid, but then the set dressing implies that maybe religious upbringings made them evil. Or is it physical and mental abuse? Or maybe this is all just a long winded and very badly set up metaphor for how corrupt law enforcement makes monsters. Maybe it’s all four, maybe it’s none, and frankly, I’m unsure anyone can muster any interest to figure it out.

The film eeks out some lines about love and darkness and how serene being a serial killer is to our villains, but it’s all a cliché soup of edginess that emo bands of the 2000s mastered communicating twenty years ago. They imply ritualistic tendencies for them without actually setting up the time to understand why they do the ritual outside of reliving the same tired killings over and over. Which is rich coming from this movie since it opens with that same tired definition of a serial killer, teasing it might have anything to say about the concept, but ultimately just vaguely caveman grunting the phrase “sociopaths, pretty crazy right?”.

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We don’t get to the heart of why they do anything, simply cutting at the surface with a dull blade rather than figuring out the “why” of what’s happening. As a matter of fact, why does anything happen here? And with the amount of times I asked why anything was happening in this film, I felt like a Jadakiss single by the time we reached the third act.

None of the Cast Gets to Shine in A Film This Dull

Madelaine Petsch seems to have reached the end of her rope with the listless and witless script she’s reading off, playing every reaction she has as either deadpan neutral or mildly scared. Richard Brake gets more screentime, and it’s lovely to see him as always, but even he can’t fix the material he’s given. Really, there’s not a single cast member who gets to shine because they’re all weighed down by the incredibly dull and meandering script.

While the lighting and color grading certainly improved, every other technical aspect of the film is being drowned in a shallow puddle. There’s not a lick of creative camerawork, and the sound mixing feels designed to blow an eardrum out as it hammers you with loud, truly obnoxious jump scares. The kills are executed terribly and practically censored by the jumbled-up editing on tap. And of course, the effects look atrociously amateurish for a film with a $7 million plus budget; you get plenty of greasy CGI blood and a particularly comedic PS2 era-looking eyeball, and that’s about it. The closest thing to enjoyment I could find was in the film’s absurd needle drops that must have put a dent in the budget the size of a small town. Substance is out today, and style is on its mandated 20-minute lunch break.

The Strangers: Chapter 3 Is Apathy Incarnate

If Chapter 2 lacked the heart it took to become a cult classic, The Strangers: Chapter 3 is hollowed out completely by its apathetic composition to be anything worth watching. The only dread inducing idea this movie conjures is an entirely real-life scenario that has nothing to do with the events of this film. It conjures the notion that some poor sap couple gets stuck seeing this film this Valentine’s Day because of the romance hinted at in the marketing.

Steer clear of the town of Venus and The Strangers: Chapter 3, intrepid couples.

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‘Re-Animator’ Review: The Lasting Legacy of a Horror Comedy

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I can’t remember the first time I saw Re-Animator. While this will probably piss someone off, my first real introduction to a variation of the source material was with Joshua Chaplinsky’s Kanye West – Reanimator. Maybe I had seen the film before that, but I wasn’t certain. I decided to go back and watch (or rewatch) the film to compare it to the satirical book. To my surprise, I loved it! I’m not sure why I didn’t remember watching the film, but I was so enthralled that I wanted to make my second tattoo a Re-Animator tattoo! Five tattoos later, and I still don’t have one.

What is Re-Animator About?

Daniel Cain (Bruce Abbott) is a medical student at Miskatonic University, along with his girlfriend Megan Halsey (Barbara Crampton)… Megan just happens to be the daughter of Dean Halsey (Robert Sampson). Herbert West (Jeffrey Combs), who recently transferred to Miskatonic, finds a posting with a room for rent at Daniel’s. Paying with a fat stack of cash, Herbert quickly moves into Daniel’s and gets down to business. The only problem is, Herbert’s business is reanimating the dead.

As someone who has been adamant about not liking horror comedies, Re-Animator really tickles me in a way most don’t. There’s a supremely dark tone to this film that is brightened by the overly campy performances, deadpan jokes, and brutally funny practical effects. Re-Animator is one of the rare films that could have been singularly played for laughs or fear, but exists in this middle ground where it’s the best of both worlds. While this film isn’t deep enough to glean new meanings or gain profound lessons, each rewatch never ceases to be less enjoyable than the last.

One of the Best Lovecraft Adaptations

Writers Dennis Paoli, William J. Norris, and Stuart Gordon took (racist) H.P. Lovecraft’s Herbert West–Reanimator and unknowingly made one of the best Lovecraft adaptations to date. There’s a peculiar phenomenon in horror where films attempt to be overly Lovecraftian, much like the genre’s tendency to label films as Lynchian. What people don’t get about Lovecraft is that not everything was all tentacles and otherworldly. Obviously, there’s a level of that that plays into what Lovecraft was. I would personally label Re-Animator, along with In the Mouth of Madness and Color out of Space, as the best three Lovecraft adaptations/Lovecraftian films to date.

There’s little to say about a film like Re-Animator that hasn’t been said already, but there is one specific point that needs to be echoed. Well, two. Firstly, Re-Animator was director Stuart Gordon’s directorial debut. His insistence on creating a viscerally nasty, sexy, funny debut film was important to set his name apart from others. Stuart Gordon came out swinging and, throughout his career, didn’t stop swinging.

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The second point that needs to be echoed is just how amazing the film’s practical effects are. Whether it’s the played-for-laughs cat puppet or Dr. Carl Hill’s (David Gale) decapitated head, each practical moment is handled with dignity, care, and the utmost beauty. While a handful of shots may not hold up as much now as they did in the 80s, the practical effects that grace Re-Animator rival some of the rare practical effects that are used today.

Why Re-Animator Still Matters in Horror History

If you haven’t seen Re-Animator, what are you doing? It’s full of brilliant, campy performances that could be a masterclass in Horror Acting for Screen 101. Barbara Crampton is a gorgeous badass, Bruce Abbott is a hilariously hapless himbo, and Jeffrey Combs showed how he was cultivating his career to be exactly what he wanted it to be. A film like Re-Animator will live on in horror history for the rest of time. My only question is…how hasn’t there been a (yuck) remake yet?

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