Review: HELLBENT

An archive review from The Gingold Files.

By Michael Gingold · September 16, 2005, 7:00 PM EDT
Hellbent

Editor's Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on September 16, 2005, and we're proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.


Of the three slasher movies opening in theaters today, Hellbent may be the most retrograde in its plotting, and yet the most contemporized in terms of its milieu. If you’ve heard anything about the film, you’ve no doubt heard it billed as the first gay-themed slasher pic; while those who saw last year’s lesbian stalker flick Make a Wish might have some argument with this, it’s true that this specificity in the characters and lifestyle helps set apart a movie whose clearest influence goes all the way back to Halloween. And I’m not saying that just because Hellbent takes place on that holiday—or because Joseph Wolf, who helped finance the John Carpenter classic, has somehow been upgraded to its “co-creator” in Hellbent’s promotional materials.

As in the ’78 film, the characters don’t have to go to an abandoned summer camp or lakeside cabin to encounter the villain; rather, he’s a malefic force that invades their ordinary lives. And he’s not an unseen threat, either, but is spotted a few times hovering in the distance, and is even taunted in a moment vaguely reminiscent of Halloween’s “Speed kills!” bit—more on that later. And instead of being a vengeful person with a backstory to be revealed, along with his identity, Hellbent’s killer is masked and mysterious throughout, a faceless force of evil.

His targets, though, aren’t the usual screaming starlets. The film opens with an obligatory introductory murder, in which a couple of guys fooling around in a car are gruesomely dispatched, and then introduces us to Eddie (Dylan Fergus), a young gay man who dreams of following in his cop father’s footsteps, but so far has been consigned to desk duty. Interestingly, writer/director Paul Etheredge-Ouzts never suggests that his orientation is an obstacle to his advancement; indeed, this film’s LA is a place where alternative sexuality flourishes and is not only condoned (caught taking part in a threesome, a young girl’s only concern is that the discoverer knows she’s over 18) but celebrated. Most of the action takes place during the West Hollywood Halloween Street Carnival, a combination bacchanal and pride march where every stratum of the homosexual community comes out (no pun intended) in force.

Eddie’s small gang of friends functions as a sort of cross-section of that community. There’s Chaz (Andrew Levitas), a randy sort out for as much action as possible; Joey (Hank Harris), a sensitive type who pines for an apparently unavailable man like countless ingenues before him (and, instead of donning a hot halter top for the first time to make an impression, makes his initial venture into wearing leather and chains); and the most intriguing character, Tobey (Matt Phillips), a transvestite torn between expressing that side of himself and dealing with the serious impediment it puts on his love life. Even before the foursome hit the Carnival, they realize someone’s following them, but they disregard this and the reports they’ve heard of the couple’s murder the night before. And amidst all the revelry, the silent killer begins bumping them off one by one.

Once again as in Halloween, there’s a puritanical streak lurking below the movie’s surface. Intentionally or not, there’s the strong suggestion that the victims are being punished for the sin of hedonism; the killer is, after all, dressed as the devil, and the friends’ early mocking of him can even be seen as something of a sarcastic sexual come-on: they all drop their pants and moon him. The movie stops well short of suggesting that the characters deserve what they get, but it’s still something of an odd ideology for a film that is otherwise pro-homosexual. Slasher scholars will also note the inversion of Halloween’s use of the holiday: Carpenter establishes his bogeyman as a manifestation of the All Hallow’s spirit, while in Hellbent, the night is all about casting off one’s inhibitions and the human monster’s singular goal is to stop it.

But enough about subtext; what most horror fans will want to know is how the movie works as a fright fest. And on that basis, the story progression isn’t as forward-thinking as its sociological trappings. It is nice that in the opening scenes, unlike many slasher filmmakers, Etheredge-Ouzts actually gives his characters lives, and the performances are uniformly enthusiastic—but once the novelty of the ensemble and setting wears off, the narrative settles into a none-too-surprising sequential murder scenario. There isn’t a great deal of suspense regarding who’s going to get it and when, though the director does vary the style with which he presents each killing, and sheds enough blood (more than one head rolls) to keep the most ardent gorehound happy. His best macabre invention occurs toward the end, and leads to a nicely grisly punchline that helps one forget about the implausibilities sprinkled through the final reels.

Hellbent comes from the joint distribution team of Regent Releasing and here! Films, the same duo that put out Eternal a few weeks ago (and like that movie, this one’s an HD-to-35mm transfer that sometimes looks murky and fuzzy). The inescapable conclusion is that its gay theme gives Hellbent an art-house cachet that has allowed it to play big screens while so many of its indie horror brethren go direct to video—but it’s certainly preferable to a lot of the bigger-ticket genre features to have hit screens lately, including the two it’s competing with right now.