Don’t Breathe
Rated R | 3.5 out of 5 stars

Are you familiar with “Three Blind Mice?” Aren’t we all? But did you know that it actually has nearly two dozen stanzas, and that in the end the mice grow their tails back with the help of a chemist? That’s OK, neither did I until five minutes ago. So just imagine Don’t Breathe as the 88-minute adaptation of the classic, truncated version of the aforementioned nursery rhyme, only it’s a Gulf War veteran instead of a butcher’s wife. And the Gulf vet is also blind. So it’s four blind mice. Or maybe it’s more like “There Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe.” No, wait. It’s gotta be your bull.

Don’t Breathe is a succinct little horror-thriller brought to you by Fede Alvarez, director of the 2013 Evil Dead reboot. It follows three 20-something flunkies amid the rundown suburbs of Detroit who make their living in semi-pro home invasions. When Money (Daniel Zovatto) is tipped off to a potentially lucrative score, Rocky (Jane Levy) sees it as her chance to make one last grab; the proverbial jackpot that’ll afford she and her young daughter the opportunity to move from dreary Michigan to sunny California. Despite the misgivings of fellow co-conspirator Alex (Dylan Minnette, Goosebumps), the robbery seems simple enough: Snatch $300K in cash from the decrepit old home of a blind Gulf War veteran (Stephen Lang, Avatar). That he acquired the lump sum via settlement after the vehicular manslaughter of his only daughter is immaterial to both Rocky and Money. But (as you might have guessed) things are not always as they seem. And when the initial break-in goes horribly wrong, Rocky and Alex are plunged into a nightmarish fight-to-the-death with a man they vastly underestimated in more ways than one.

Stephen Lang stars in Screen Gems’ horror-thriller DON’T BREATHE.

To say that there’s beauty in simplicity is sometimes cliche, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Don’t Breathe, to be absolutely certain, is simple in every way possible. And that’s exactly why it’s fun and good and worth watching. Take another look at that aforementioned runtime: 88 minutes! No unnecessary love interests, sex scenes or false endings; no pointless backstory, overindulgent plot twists or grandstanding. It takes all of 10 minutes for the plot to be fully established, and from there it’s nothing but meat and potatoes, ham and eggs. (Does that make me sound like a railcar hobo?) Calling Don’t Breathe refreshingly concise does seem like something of an overstatement, because it’s not as if there aren’t other films that clock-in around the 90-minute mark. But it’s exceedingly more and more common for mainstream movies with absolutely nothing to say to regularly break the two-hour mark, which is a point of interest in and of itself. Isn’t this the most attention-deficit generation in recorded human history? A generation of young people and adults so obsessed with moment-to-moment interaction on their phones, iPads, tablets and whatever else, that they will literally walk into oncoming traffic in pursuit of a Japanese emoji? OK. So, why do Marvel and DC movies average 130 minutes-plus? Why are all the Hangovers and Wedding Crashers rebirths of the NeverEnding Story? And when will this woman at the coffee shop come to her senses and realize we should be married?

Uh … that doesn’t matter. What does matter, is that Don’t Breathe, in addition to its breviloquence, is can’t-miss entertainment for fans of the genre. Not overly gory, though intense enough to make you moan, groan and jump in your seat, it’s a great Friday night theater experience, especially in a room packed with college kids precariously/enjoyably walking that thin line between talking too much and just enough. And I must say, without giving any particular spoilers, that Don’t Breathe also has a truly memorable scene. One that will rank up there with some of the sleazy horror highs (or lows) in terms of its sheer unnervingness; one that you recall with a friend years down the line. (“Yeah, man, that was almost as bad as the _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ scene in Don’t Breathe.”) Both Jane Levy and Stephen Lang are quite excellent in their respective roles, and it’s the kind of flick that will likely land Fede Alvarez a lot more work, hopefully beyond whatever shitty sequels they’re already planning.

Mark Don’t Breathe down for your next trashy date night.

Evil Dead

Rated R

Evil Dead producers Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell made it clear to the media leading up to the remake of their cult horror movie classic that Evil Dead would be a new vision of horror for a new generation. To bring this new vision to life, they turned to Uruguayan director Fede Alvarez, who wasn’t even 3-years-old when the original The Evil Dead premiered in Detroit. As it turned out, new blood (pun intended) did this franchise very good.

As a diehard fan of the original, I was at first resistant to the idea of a remake. Even when they’re good, it’s difficult to judge remakes on their own merits. I’ll do my best to refrain from comparing Alvarez’s film to Raimi’s classic here, but I fear that will be inevitable. Please, bear with me.

The story is simple. A group of young people ventures to a desolate cabin, a la the 1981 film, where they find a mysterious book and unwittingly unleash a night of unholy terror upon themselves. This time around, though, our protagonists’ decision to isolate themselves in Bumfuck, Nowhere, is not without purpose. Mia (Jane Levy) has been struggling with heroin addiction and detoxing from drugs, and her friends, led by her largely absentee brother David (Shiloh Fernandez), sequester themselves in the remote locale to stand by her as she tries to kick the habit cold turkey.

The cabin used to be Mia and David’s family’s retreat but fell into disrepair over the years from lack of use. But in the time the siblings have been away, others have used the dwelling for their own nefarious ends, and the woods surrounding the cabin have become infested with ancient demons. Things go from creepy to absolutely terrifying when Eric (Lou Taylor Pucci) goes poking around in an ancient tome that he has no business messing around with.

Evil Dead is exactly six minutes longer in runtime than its predecessor, but seems to get less things accomplished plot-wise. Alvarez, who also co-wrote the screenplay spends more time on characterization than delving into the mythos behind the evil that lurks in the woods. The film is still tight because he sticks by his choice, but feels emptier than the original somehow without a clear understanding of what’s going on.

I promised that I wouldn’t compare it to The Evil Dead, and I’m sorry. But I swear I’ll leave it at that. While Evil Dead clearly takes cues from the original, it really is its own monster—a savage, unrelenting and frightening monster the likes of which has been lacking from horror movies for the past God knows how many years. In some respects, it is Evil Dead for a generation of horror fans weaned on the flaccid torture porn of the Saw and Hostel franchises. Horrible things happen to these characters—especially Eric, who becomes sort of a human pincushion by film’s end. Nails are driven through bones, people chop off their own arms…it’s nasty, gnarly stuff, free of the campy grotesqueness of the original (I swear I’ll stop now).

That being said, this is as visceral a film experience as you’re likely to have this year (and probably next year for that matter). Alvarez manages to capture the extreme gore and violence with such an artful eye it’s almost beautiful. Pale, muted colors paint a grim and foreboding picture of the forest surrounding the cabin, and wonderfully crafted creature makeup creates nightmarish demons that still appear to have a human soul.

For horror fans, this is a must-see in the theater. It’ll make you think back to a time when horror movies made you squeamish and cackle with terror, and not just because they pulled that bullshit you-think-it’s-the-psycho-killer-but-it’s-actually-a-cat sort of way. You’ll jump because there’s a flesh-hungry demon lurking behind the bathtub shredding off its own face with a shard of broken glass. Tread carefully into those woods, my friends, and don’t go alone.