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300, Bruce McDonald, dark, death, film, frightening, George Romero, Georgina Reilly, Hard Core Logo, horror, horror film, horror movie, horror movies, Jaime Burchardt, Lisa Houle, movie, movie reviews, Netflix, Orson Welles, Pontypool, reelybored, Romero, Scott B. Smith, Stephen McHattie, terror, The Tracey Fragments, Tony Burgess, War of the Worlds, Watchmen, zombie, zombies
A review by Jamie Burchardt
I would’ve loved to be at an understanding age when Orson Welles unleashed his masterpiece “The War of the Worlds” on the radio in 1938. There’s that old and true saying when it comes to horror films, that less is more. Honestly, the scariest thing you and I will ever see is whatever our imagination can design from scratch. Seriously think about it for a second. When we hear that something so god-awful is happening, our psyche goes into the darkest realms, and it pulls out an image that makes us lose our minds and makes us forget to breathe. That’s why Welles’ radio show worked so well. That’s why it terrified radio listeners to the point of causing sheer mayhem.
It’s the same trick Pontypool attempts to pull. The end result? Once you lift your head up, ducking from the pure madness you know in your bones was an absolute apocalypse; you can’t help but smile and say to the movie “You son of a bitch”, while sporting that sly, satisfied smile on your face.
The nature of Pontypool is something perplexing. While I was watching it, I picked up the vibe from it that there had been a reason why it took me years, literally years, to view this movie (and yes, movies DO have vibes). Upon reflection, I realize that I truly wasn’t ready for what it had to offer. Yes it’s the preferred way to go into a brand new viewing of a flick; to know as little about it as possible. I was ready, in the general sense, to view a horror film involving zombies. That’s all I knew. And what I got was…something else.
Let’s keep the story very simple: Grant Mazzy (Stephen McHattie) is a down-& out shock jock radio DJ that now resorts to doing the morning announcements for the small town of Pontypool. Aided by his assistant Laurel-Ann (Georgina Reilly) and his producer Sydney (Lisa Houle), he’s cake-walking through just another Valentine’s Day radio show when reports start to come in of mass riots forming in the city, and without explanation, the deaths of literally hundreds of people. One situation leads to another, and…that’s all that will be said about that.
Right off the bat, I absolutely adored that majority of its 96-minute runtime took place in a single location. I’m a big believer that movies that are constricted to one location and/or a very limited time space are the ones that have a real potential to showcase some inspired juices. However, before the movie can kick it into full gear and unleash some old-school terror tricks on you, it takes quite a while to get to that point. I am an unabashed lover of the slow burn, but only if said slow burn makes absolute good of the time it’s taking, and this is where the movie hits a speed bump. What’s the best thing that can be established in the slow burn? Characterization. While we understand and eventually root for Grant Mazzy, the same can’t really be said for the rest of them. Granted, there are tidbits here and there so we’re not totally starving for their back stories, but it doesn’t leave us full. In a movie where the action is in the background and our characters are in the heavy foreground, I couldn’t help but feeling just a bit cheated. Could it be argued that screenwriter Tony Burgess, who also wrote the novel it’s based on, lost that part of its transition? We’ve seen novelists turn into excellent screenwriters before (Scott B. Smith comes to mind), and it’s not a bad script, just a bit lacking.
Whatever aspects the script lacks though, Bruce McDonald’s direction more than makes up for it. Considered sort of a Canadian hero (Hard Core Logo, The Tracey Fragments), he was a big part of the reason for my anticipation of this. I have to say if this is his true signature style of direction, sign me up for more. Like the movie himself, his conduct doesn’t really fit a standard. It poses like it’s established, but also hints that its true core is a cyclone of chaos, that comes out at appropriate, and let’s face it, inappropriate times. Right down to the even his choice of shot compositions, everything about his style screams “unorthodox”, and it’s so fitting to the kind of situational piece this is. He doesn’t play it like a straightforward horror veteran, he plays it like a seasonal mad man who just forgot his prescription medicine, if only for a few hours. Hell, at one point he and Burgess were considering having the entire movie be an audio-only piece, with just a wavering line being the only visual. It’s crazy! But…he makes it work.
Like the actual “virus”, McDonald’s energy is contagious, and the solid job of the cast is a resemblance of that. It’s a small, contained cast but do they ever make their screen time count. Lisa Houle & Georgina Reilly gave substantial performances as the two female leads. Solid performances means good feedback between each actor, and it felt everyone measured how they did by Stephen McHattie’s lead performance. Being a supporting player in the few years past (check out 300 & Watchmen for those), seeing him spiritedly take center stage in such a gruff yet helpless role pays off with a huge reward.
As for the actual virus itself…well that’s just all kinds of kooky. Make no mistake, these are zombies we’re dealing with, but they’re sure as hell not your typical, Romero-branded zombie. I won’t dare talk about what makes these “biters” so special; just know it’s a welcome freshness in a horror sub-genre that can be stale at times, especially if handled by hacks. If anything, Burgess & McDonald somehow managed to make them even more eerie.
While riding the movie’s chilling roller coaster, we’re banged around, chewed at, and twisted around so much that when the film’s finale presents itself, you’ll find yourself just begging for some sort of resolution. Horror gems pride themselves in ending in bleak, “what if?” scenarios, and that’s part of the charm. That’s why we love them. But even with this, knowing what you know about how the virus spreads, you’ll STILL clench your fists and your inside voice will yell in your cranium, “There’s got to be an answer!”
Does “Pontypool” give that answer? I won’t say. What I will say is, it’s hectic, and it never, ever makes it easy on you. Ever. You have to respect a movie for that. If you can’t, then just enjoy the fact that it’s an extremely daring & neat little cult horror slice of pie. I saw it via Netflix streaming. If you have it, start the stream and ride the ride.
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