Chromosomal conceit
Horror anthology ‘XX’ is uneven but not without its charms
Melanie Lynskey stars in Annie Clark's "The Birthday Party," the second entry in "XX."
The last few years have seen a resurgence of horror anthology films—notably “V/H/S” and the duology, “ABCs of Death,” along with the lesser-known “Tales of Halloween” and “Southbound,” all of which generated good word-of-mouth among audiences who like their horror bite-sized.
“XX,” opening at the Circle today, is a horror anthology with a chromosomal hook. Where “ABCs” had the alphabet conceit, and “V/H/S” the evil videotapes, here all four entries are written and directed by women.
The four tales are woven together with pleasing stop motion-animated interstitials that look like a Tool video via Soviet-era Russia.
The first entry, Jovanka Vuckovic’s “The Box,” opens with Susan (Natalie Brown) on the subway with her kids. Her son, Danny, spies an old man with a gift-wrapped box and asks to peek inside. Seeing nothing—or so he tells his mother and sister—Danny weirdly begins to refuse dinner. Not in an “I hate vegetables” kind of way, more like “eating is no longer necessary.” After whispering something into his sister’s and father’s ears, they take on a sudden aversion to food, as well. Yet, to Susan, they seem otherwise normal. Despite not eating for days, nothing about them changes.
Adapted from a short story by the legendary Jack Ketchum, “The Box” fumbles the promise of its unnerving buildup. The tension is fairly palpable. What parent, after all, wouldn’t get anxiety if their kid just stopped eating? Though the performances are fine, director Vuckovic loses the narrative cohesion with a dream sequence that subverts and confuses the morbidity of its final reveal. The weightless non-climax doesn’t help.
Tulsa native Annie Clark, better known as the singer/songwriter St. Vincent, directs the second entry, “The Birthday Party,” co-written with Roxanne Benjamin (more on her in a minute).
Mary (Melanie Lynskey of Peter Jackson’s “Heavenly Creatures”) is a well-off suburban mom, beleaguered with organizing her young daughter’s birthday party. When she’s informed by her creepy maid (Sheila Vand) that her husband unexpectedly came home the night before, Mary discovers him dead of an apparent suicide in his office. But the party must go on.
More of a dark comedy-of-errors than an outright horror story, Clark’s debut is amusing, though clearly the work of a relatively green filmmaker. Lynskey brings her typical charm to the role, and it’s easy to see Clark’s sweet-natured essence imbuing the proceedings. She’s too nice to be scary.
Clark’s co-writer (and “Southbound” director) Roxanne Benjamin helms “Don’t Fall,” in which a group of outdoorsy hippie friends camp out in the California desert. After fucking with the acrophobic Gretchen (Breeda Wool) on the edge of a cliff, they discover an ancient rock painting of a demonic creature that possesses Gretchen. Cue the kill-crazy rampage.
Written and directed by Benjamin, “Don’t Fall” is like a short, mean-spirited “X-Files” episode. Benjamin economically builds tension, elevating the shopworn conceit. Hints of the legend entice the imagination, along with some inspired creature design.
The producers of “XX” saved the best entry for last. With “Her Only Living Son,” writer/director Karyn Kusama brings all the queasy, bad-things-are-about-to-happen dread that made last year’s “The Invitation” work so well (it barely missed my top ten) and applies it expertly to the short form.
On the eve of his 18th birthday, Andy (Kyle Allen), an otherwise nice kid, is called into the principal’s office with his mother Cora (Christina Kirk) and Kelly (Lisa Renee Pitts), the mother of the girl whose fingernails Andy tore off. The cultish administration doesn’t want to punish him because they know he’s meant to change the world.
Essentially a riff on “Rosemary’s Baby,” “Her Only Living Son” is certainly creepy. Kusama’s control of tone and atmosphere, a balance of unnerving sadness and well-calibrated dread, make me really hope she sticks with this horror thing.
“XX,” like all anthologies divvied up between different creative teams, is a mixed bag. Perhaps not everything you were looking for, yet full of surprises.
For more from Joe, check out his review of Karyn Kusama's "The Invitation."