Darklands (1996)

I think this is a new genre that they're all sort of working their way through it and haven't got all the kinks worked out yet but it's a genre that works for me.

An absolute waste of money

All of these films share one commonality, that being a kind of emotional center that humanizes a cast of monsters.

It is an exhilarating, distressing, funny and profound film, with one of the more memorable film scores in years,

Between depressing police procedurals like "A Mind to Kill" and cultic crap like this, it's a wonder anyone has any respect for the Welsh, let alone any interest in visiting or living in Wales. Myself, based on just the above, I'd leave skidmarks in the opposite direction from Cardiff.Craig Fairbrass is no more convincing here as the journalist protag on the trail of a big story than he was as a love rat on Eastenders. Not that that matters much since a dyslexic Howler monkey could come up with a better script. We are asked to swallow, for example [hack, cough, spit], the idea that some Celtic cult that's a mix of pagan ritual, pseudo-freemasonry and virulent Welsh nationalism could get away with practicing human sacrifice in a large industrial town in Wales. Yeah, I'm sure Downing Street would *never* twig to that little regional conspiracy. Also, I never thought I'd say this, since I normally find horror movie sex scenes at least highly amusing, but there is a truly tedious amount of bonking. This very unfortunately has everything to do with the "shock climax" (if you'll pardon the pun). I could live with the downer ending if it had a point, but it doesn't. It's just nihilism for the sake of it--rather like the soundtrack, really. Not to mention an unhealthy dose of anti-Welsh stereotypes that makes it look like they could really use some chlorine in the gene pool down there in Wales.For a good downer movie about Celtic cults, do yourself an enormous favour and rent The Wicker Man instead. That one at least makes you think about who the good guys and bad guys are- -and the ending (which this one tried dismally to rip off) is much, much better.

*Some SPOILERS*Oops, here's one not to rodomontade about too loudly. I saw it in four chunks over three days so I lost the plot a bit. No matter, it's a patchwork of other people's plots anyway, not least a chainsaw assault that kills the film's tenuous credibility stone dead. This sort of hokum needs a certain other worldly style to it rather than the bog standard Brit-cop TV approach we get, albeit with extra blooded lamb cutlets.Does this matter? There is a fabulous amount of bonking in it. Craig Fairbrass, playing a journalist, is attractive and charming but grates with his less than beatific vocal style. He is the man with a bonking problem. The problem being he never gets a rest from it. So priapic is he that even in the rare moments of the film where he refrains from the afore-mentioned activity, that is unconcious, someone wakes him up and forces him to do it some more. Even when he's not doing it, he's dreaming about it. What really makes you turn against the film is he doesn't appear to enjoy it, apart from the first encounter on a living room floor with a women he's barely acquainted with. In one memorable scene he is serviced by this women in the most energetic display of rumpy pumpy since 'Last Tango In Paris', only to be forced to admit that he had not reached the peak, so to speak. We, the audience, are astonished. After all that, the earth should have moved for a paraplegic. In fairness, Mr Fairbrass has a great deal on his mind, not least the fact that certain inhabitants of Wales seem to sport eyeliner until well into their sixties, and that's just the men. Also, a sinister Detective Inspector that is the bane of his life is wearing an outfit not seen since Roger De Bris's assistant in 'The Producers'. How does he get away with being dressed like that down the nick? Dark forces are certainly afoot but seeing as Mr Fairbrass is permanently horizontal without clothes, how is he going to find out? In an amazing sequence, he is forced into another energetic round of 'hows-your-father?' By a bunch of slavering pagans on a make shift altar. Goodness, this low budget film is definately worth a deferred payment deal, but is Mr Fairbrass grateful? Does the earth move for him this time? Sadly, the painful and protracted gurning he displays suggests he is experiencing a vodka enema rather than the overdue release we are expecting from him. There is a reason for all this preoccupation with procreation, not least the lack of anything else to do in Wales. However, the knowledge of this is likely to set back the careful rehabilitation, nay acceptance of paganism ventured on such shows like 'Buffy, the Vampire Slayer'.Overall, I can't see the point of this film or British films in general. Lets face it, the Americans do this sort of thing better and we'd be better suited spending time trying to sort out our NHS, which incidently gets treated with an almost uncanny documentary realism in 'Darklands'. Poor Mr Fairbrass is in hospitable after a dog bite, forcing him to be horizontal without any frenzied sexual activity for once. Goodness, how will he cope? A doctor walks in with two burly minders, squeezing a huge hypordermic and promptly attacks him. In a hilarious 'Carry On' sequence, Mr Fairbrass is chased along hospital corridors in a wheelchair, still pulling faces and looking thoroughly miserable. I'm was just thankful to see him sitting down. After all that bedroom activity he's a man that certainly needs the rest.

Not for nothing has Julian Richards' assured debut been dubbed the Welsh 'Wicker Man'. The writer-director readily acknowledges it's debt to the 1973 horror classic. In his least action orientated role to date - Craig Fairbrass plays Frazer Truick, a Welsh-born, London raised journo whose investigations into a young steelworkers death suggest links between the industrial 'accident', fervent nationalist politician David Keller (Jon Finch) and an uppity group of Celtic neo-pagans. Truick's nose for a story and lust for the dead girl's beautiful sister, trainee journo Rachel Morris (Rowena King), soon have him knee deep in desecrated churches, slaughtered pigs, crazy priests and a revivalist political conspiracy. Anyone familiar with 'The Wicker Man' or 'Rosemary's Baby' will quickly guess that what Truick thinks is a light at the end of the tunnel is in fact an oncoming train. That said, what the film lacks in narrative riginality, it makes up for in imaginative execution, despite the limitations imposed by a £500,000 budget. Richards' confident direction and cinematographer Zoran Djordjevic's atmospheric visuals are complemented by a score that effectively blends Test Department's percussive industrial noise with gentler Welsh folk songs. By juxtaposing the scary intensity of ancient pagan rituals with the grim beauty of a modern post-industrial landscape, 'Darklands' draws upon evocative pre-christian imagery while also hinting at a more serious socio-economic subtext. Together with 'Twin Town' and 'House Of America' this confirms the recent revival in Welsh film-making. ------------------------------------------

Darklands is very much a 'back to basics' Brit horror movie. Impressively shot in Wales it tells the story of a local journalist (Craig Fairbrass) who gradually uncovers a sinister cult within his home town, who practice ancient pagan rituals and human sacrifice. With unmistakable elements from 'Race With The Devil', 'Angel Heart', and of course 'The Wicker Man' Darklands is hardly original but director Julian Richards has delivered an atmospheric, dark and sometimes intense debut - possibly the best British horror film this decade.