Hello, and welcome to (what may be) the first in an on-going series of film reviews. These will not be your ordinary film reviews, oh no sir, for your humble reviewer is no ordinary cis-gendered heteropatriarchal man. Much as our dear friend the Derpetologist plumbs the depths of the interwebz to bring you only the derpiest in modern derp, I, too, am an explorer in dangerous environs. My particular faculty, however, lies in obscure, campy, poorly made, misunderstood, niche horror and sci-fi films.

Let us begin with the most recent horror film I have seen – Darin Scott’s Dark House. This appears at first glance to be a meaningless addition to the already rich canon of poorly acted, poorly written, cheap computer FX DTV (direct to video) horror library. However, as our parents should have taught us, looks can be deceiving.

Some scant years ago, at a small private orphanage, a small gaggle of children are butchered by their insane caretaker, who then takes her own life in suitably gruesome fashion. Cutting to the present, a group of acting students at the local community college are approached by haunted house impresario Walston Rey to act as a skeleton crew for a press run of his new haunted attraction. The attraction is, of course, located in the previously seen massacre house, which over the years took on a “haunted” reputation in the local community. One of the students, Claire, is strangely eager to go. It turns out Claire had a terrifying experience there, and her shrink thinks spending time in the house would unlock her repressed trauma. Unable to go it alone, she believes this will be the perfect opportunity to revisit the house in a safe environment. Thankfully for us viewers, her supposition about the safety of said house turns out to be hideously wrong.

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Box cover. I swear, sweet 80s VHS box covers are a lost art. We will discuss this, AT LENGTH, in a future post.

The film starts off in a very paint-by-numbers fashion (for low-budget horror) and is saved by the timely arrival of Walston, played by the always delightful Jeffrey Combs. Seriously, I would pay money to watch Jeffrey Combs read the Calcutta phone book. Many of you may know him from his recurring roles in various Star Trek series, notably both as the Vorta Weyoun and the Andorian Shran. True horror connoisseurs, though, will always think of him as Dr. Herbert West in the immortal and perfect in every way Re-Animator. Since Mr. Combs takes the stage (literally) while in a scene featuring the entire rest of the cast, the immediately noticeable gap between his talent, and that of the remainder, is almost jarring. It is here that we are introduced to Claire, played by Meghan Ory. This Canadian actress’s screen credits are ample, if mostly guest shots on TV shows. She plays the role of slightly nutsy Claire adequately, if not with any great enthusiasm. When the rest of her class expresses skepticism, she has some wonderful meta-lines about how many famous actors got their start in low-budget horror. For our readers who may not be aware, this is an actual fact, and will perhaps be the focus of a future post.

Our intrepid team of would-be actors (and I do mean that in both an in-universe sense and in a real life sense) show up to learn their roles for the press opening of the haunted attraction. Something unnatural goes wrong with the computer controlling the effects and…well, if you’ve ever seen a horror movie in your life, you know where this is headed. Thankfully Mr. Combs is not the first to go, as so often happens in these sorts of films when they spend the money to trot out a fan favorite, but can’t really afford to give their character more than minimal screen time.

It is at the ending that the film makes its first real attempt to separate itself from the pack. Without giving away too much, what appears to be the closing scene contains a plotting element that comes just…this…close to being interesting and at least a little different. That is something that many of you have no idea how hard it is to find in this genre of film: anything different.

OH SHIT SON!!!

Creative Commons image that comes up when you search, “horror”. That’s right, I’m lazy. Screw you.

Unfortunately, the filmmaker then completely shits it all away with an extra few minutes that wake us violently from the beautiful dream of a low-budget horror film that doesn’t feel like one has wasted 90 minutes of one’s life in viewing, and plants us firmly back in the reality in which most low-budget horror films feel like you’ve just wasted 90 minutes of your life in viewing. A real shame, honestly. This was only director Darin Scott’s second film, so he may be forgiven for not having fully developed his instincts yet. That’s what a good editor is for. He later helmed several other horror films, which you can find on IMDB if you are so inclined, and also directed what I’m sure was an underrated classic, House Party: Tonight’s the Night. That’s right, a House Party sequel, in 2013. When I’m having a hard time slogging through a particularly bad horror movie, I can look back on that fact and remind myself that it could always be worse.

I award Dark House two-and-a-half Naked Asian Batmen out of five. Image result for pixelated dicks  Image result for pixelated dicks Image result for pixelated dicks