Really Awful Movies

The Descent is bursting with Bechdel goodwill. But that’s neither here nor there. At the end of the day, this semi-gratifying spelunker thriller comes up short, regardless of what’s between its legs.

USA Today had an interesting take that’s more or less on-point: “For my money, [the] first 20 or so minutes are the best in the film. Once the real adventure gets underway in the cave, things get less interesting…”

Seldom is a set up as compelling as what we’re eased into here: On the return from an extreme sports adventure, there’s a grisly crash. The carnage spares Sarah (Shauna Macdonald), but kills her husband Paul and daughter Jessica.

A year later, a still-shaken Sarah ventures into the great outdoors for some dark adventures — literally — to explore caves with her mostly seasoned friends, Juno, Beth, Sam, Rebecca and newbie Holly.

They settle down to a session of carousing and boozing it up, heading out to explore once the fog of a morning hangover’s barely lifted.

One year later, Sarah and her friends Juno, Beth, Sam (MyAnna Buring), Rebecca (Saskia Mulder), and newcomer Holly (Nora-Jane Noone) are reunited at a cabin in the foothills of North Carolina for cave-exploring adventure. The next day, they hike up to a cavernous entrance and descend.

The Appalachian Mountains are a treat. It’s a darkly majestic bit of the world out there that director Neil Marshall faithfully reproduces.

As the group of friends descend into a metaphorical / literal hell, it’s claustrophobic and intense as only a cave can be, going over some of the same survivalist terrain as Danny Boyle’s 127 Hours.

The first part of The Descent is a gripping test of will, and overcoming of adversity through teamwork.

But it’s when the supernatural element rears its hissing head that this underground terror cools its jets as much of the action is shrouded in near pitch-black.

Man (or in this case woman) vs nature would’ve been plenty.

*** (out of 5)

In the 90s GLAAD objected to The Silence of the Lambs’ Buffalo Bill on the grounds that the character was “a cross dressing, misogynistic serial killer.”

Well, don the fish nets and pumps as here comes Switch Killer (originally titled Transamerican Killer), an incredibly sleazy yet highly effective and affecting exploitation slasher set in Sin City.

Cara Jo Basso is extraordinary as Jamie, a woman abused by and trying to escape from an obsessive idiot who is leaving her threatening voicemails and sending her flowers. And that’s pretty much it plot-wise. Switch Killer’s narrative is as skimpy as the outfits.

Jamie takes refuge at her grandmother’s place, a charming old-timer who’s moved to tears by Bogey in Casablanca. On the side, Jamie takes a job as a stripper, becoming romantically involved with an attractive colleague while explaining away her nightly absence to granny as “a job in the restaurant business.” Because we’re better than that, you’ll get no “job” yuks on this site.

Meanwhile, a very svelte trans/cross dressing killer is stalking Jamie and her fellow pole dancers and spreading panic in Vegas around New Year’s Eve.

Switch Killer is a total grindhouse throwback, a film which has more in common with the likes of Maniac and Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer than any of its 80s final girl progenitors.

Director Mack Hail is obviously well-versed in what makes the horror genre great.

It’s interesting to see a stripper played so sympathetically, and the use of the uber-sleazy Nevada hub of gambling and prostitution as a horror backdrop makes for some captivating visuals.

For a film that’s this (some would say) nonredeemable in its sordidness, there’s surprisingly not much in the way of gore. Sure, a few dancers are gutted like freshly-caught trout and shoved into oncoming trains, but the tension comes from the build-up and the highly realistic depictions of the strip club scene (don’t ask how we came by this knowledge).

As is often the case, didn’t expect much from the title; Switch Killer delivers in spades, and all for a modest budget.

As for as depictions of the transgendered…well, this ain’t Dallas Buyers Club.

*** (out of 5).