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As
a long-time fan of Cold Fusion Video Reviews, I was well aware of the
phenomenon of “the screener” – those copies of low-budget films
sent to reviewers in an effort to drum up publicity for productions that
clearly can’t afford to buy it. I’d never received a screener
myself, however (I had had feelers put out, but most of the film-makers I’d
communicated with seemed to baulk at having to pay overseas shipping
costs to get their work to me, which should give you a good idea of the
budget most of these things are made for), prior to the arrival of Clear Water, aspiring
horror director Andy Koontz’s first feature-length (well –
almost-an-hour-length) production. To be honest, I wasn’t altogether
sure I wanted to get into the business of reviewing screeners. Being
asked to do so in the first place is a nice little ego rub, of course;
and then there’s the greed factor (“Free films! Cool!”). However
– another thing I’ve learned from visiting Cold Fusion is that many
of these films really, really
suck. It wasn’t the prospect of watching bad films that bothered me;
it was the question of whether I was sufficiently thick-skinned to
review such films as they deserved to be reviewed. While I don’t have
any qualms about putting the boot hard and often into big-budget studio
productions, I doubted my ability to treat these rookie efforts with a
similar degree of honesty. So it was with some trepidation that I took
the plunge, and slipped my copy of Clear
Water into my VCR.
When
I took it out again less than 60 minutes later, I was aware that I had
just watched a fairly remarkable piece of low-budget film-making.
Clear Water
opens with titles informing us of the estimated number of serial killers
active in the United States, and the proportion of their victims who are
never found. We then watch the abduction, beating and imprisonment of a
young woman. At this point – thanks in part to the stark black and
white photography – it feels as if Clear
Water is shaping as another knock-off of Henry.
Thankfully, however, there is much more originality to the film that
that. The serial killer (played, with rather unnerving believability, by
writer-director Koontz himself) photographs his victim, then settles
down to write out a letter addressed to “Dear Jonathan”. The focus
of the story then shifts, as we observe the morning routine of a
thoroughly ordinary young man whom we learn is the Jonathan in question.
When Jonathan, an architect, arrives home from work that evening, he
finds a package on his doorstep. It contains the photographs of the
abducted girl, the letter, which turns out to be a list of instructions,
and an audiotape recorded by the killer. The fate of the unfortunate
girl, Jonathan learns, first to his bewildered disbelief, then to his
utter horror, is in his hands.
He has been given seven days in which to find her and save her life.
What the killer does not know, however – or does he? – is that a
critical clue to the girl’s whereabouts has already been lost,
Jonathan having glanced at it and tossed it aside without realising its
significance. Assured that should he go to the police, the girl will
die, Jonathan becomes almost paralysed with uncertainty; unable to help
even if he were willing to try, and fully aware that the longer he
delays taking action, the more the girl will suffer – and the closer
she will come to her death….
As
most of you would know, I don’t have much time for “jokey” horror
films; ones that retreat into humour (or perhaps I should say, an attempt at humour) rather than tackle their issues head on; ones
that actively discourage you from taking them seriously. Clear Water, in contrast, is an admirably straight piece of work –
and a disturbing one. It captures the sick, fetishistic, ritual-bound
world of the serial killer so well it becomes difficult to watch at
times – even though most of the physical violence is kept offscreen.
(The exception is the “rope” scene towards the end of the film,
where in my opinion the camera is allowed to linger a little too long.)
It also displays considerable psychological acuteness in its depiction
of its killer and the way he goes about his business. The photographs of
the girl that Jonathan receives show her face and hair covered in blood.
Some of this is her own, but much of it is not: we have watched the
killer slash open his hand and smear his own blood over his victim. This
inclusion of self-punishment in his rites is an intriguing touch, making
clear – as indeed does the compulsive, joyless way in which he sets
about his “work” – that on one level at least, this is someone who
truly does want to be stopped. And upon first glance, it would seem that
the killer’s modus operandi
is designed to bring about this very outcome, for not only does he
choose a victim, he chooses a potential rescuer as well. That rescuer is
provided with information that should
lead to the locating and release of the abductee – if it happens that
he “cares enough” (the killer’s own phrase) to exert himself to
save a total stranger. The girl whose sufferings we witness is not the
killer’s first target. He has played this game before, we learn, and
to date none of his victims have been rescued. The implication is that
the individuals chosen previously to play saviour have not
cared; that the earlier victims have died at least in part because of
the apathy of their townspeople. However, there is an intriguing level
of ambiguity to all of this, which is introduced via the “missing
clue” plot thread. Not only does the killer choose to separate this
clue, a crude map, from all of the other information that Jonathan
receives, but he delivers in a way that almost ensures that it will
be lost. When Jonathan, during one of a series of phonecalls between
himself and his tormenter, tries to convince the killer that he has not
received this clue, the response is an outburst of rage and more threats
against the girl – “Now
I’ll have to hurt her! Hurt her bad!”
– that are made good with sickening promptness. The irreconcilable
division in the killer’s psyche is painfully apparent. His desire for
someone to stop him is at war with his need to torture and kill – and
to have someone else to blame his deeds upon.
As
long as Clear Water is
focussed upon its killer and his victim, it is an intense and
suspenseful experience. Unfortunately, the other half of the story, that
dealing with Jonathan as he tries to come to grips with the horrifying
situation in which he suddenly finds himself, does not work nearly as
well. There are a couple of reasons for this. For one thing, it is
evident that at this early stage of his career, Andy Koontz’s visual
sense is much stronger than his feel for dialogue. Those sections of Clear
Water dealing with the killer are largely dialogue-free, apart from
the screams and pleadings of his victim (and I’ll have a bit more to
say about Julie Wand’s performance later); and these, along with the
bleak location footage and a brief but startling sequence depicting a
nightmare suffered by Jonathan, are the most impressive parts of the
film. Conversely, when Jonathan is called upon to interact with other
people – telephone calls from the killer, an awkward dinner with, we
infer, a potential girlfriend, a misjudged plea for help hindered by
Jonathan’s terrified conviction that the killer is watching him
(he’s right) – or even just to talk to himself, it all feels stilted
and rather unconvincing. Actor Randy Bowden tries very hard during these
scenes, but he just can’t put them over; although the underdeveloped
nature of his character is probably as much to blame as any limitations
of his own. (I exempt the scene of Jonathan undergoing a fit of
terrified hysteria following the arrival of a second package from the
killer, which is intense and uncontrolled enough to be fairly
persuasive.) Ultimately, however, most of Clear
Water’s imperfections can be chalked up to its brevity. We simply
never have the chance to know or understand Jonathan as we should –
particularly given the emphasis put upon his dual roles as subsidiary
victim and potential hero in Clear
Water’s promotional material. (How
far would you go? How much would you sacrifice for someone you don’t
know…?) Clear Water’s
main flaw – if indeed you can call it a flaw; at any rate, it’s a
refreshing one – is its over-ambition: it has way too many ideas for its limited running time. This is a project
ripe for expansion into true feature-length. With sufficient development
of Jonathan’s part of the plot, this could be a gripping suspense film
– and particularly so in light of an unsettling implication made
fairly late in the story as it now stands. One of the Clear
Water’s small mis-steps sees Koontz falling back on the venerable
trope of the Plot Point Specific Television©, with Jonathan
turning on his TV at the exact moment that the details of his
victim are being reported. (Although to be fair, I suppose that with a
series of abductions happening in a small town, the odds of switching on
the TV and getting coverage of the situation would be reasonably good.)
It is now that we learn the name of the ill-fated girl whose sufferings
we have witnessed – “Mellisa Jordan”. Jonathan immediately begins
referring to the girl by her name, calling out to her repeatedly,
promising her that he will save her; and this, coupled with the literal nightmare that he
suffers soon afterwards, begins to suggest that Jonathan’s selection
by the killer wasn’t quite as random as we have been led to
believe….
Although made with a
digital camcorder, Clear Water
is an
atmospheric work. The film was shot on location in Washington State
between the months of November and February, and the external footage
has an almost palpable chill about it. Moreover, Andy Koontz used
various filtering techniques to “grimy-up” his images, and the
result is an uncomfortable degree of realism, particularly in those
scenes centred on the killer’s activities. One thing about this film
that I found particularly striking was its depiction of its victim. How
many times have you seen a woman in a studio film supposedly going
through hell, yet emerging from her ordeal with her make-up intact and
barely a hair out of place? In contrast, “Mellisa Jordan” is so
believable in her sufferings that it makes you squirm. Much of this is
to the credit of director (and effects man) Koontz, of course, but much
also is due to the contribution of Julie Wand, who truly went above and
beyond both in her performance, and in what she allowed Koontz to do to
her appearance! Indeed, for much of the second half of the film we are
uncertain whether Mellisa is alive or dead – which adds a whole other
layer of tension to the story. Ultimately, however, Clear
Water is as much of a one-man show as it is possible for a film to
be. Let me put it this way: it would have been a lot simpler if, for his
film credits, Andy Koontz had put up a single card stating what he did not
do for this production. (Actually, although Koontz’s pride in his work
is understandable, an unintentional and wholly out of place note of
comedy is introduced by the endless stream of “---by
Andy Koontz”-s that make up the opening credits: it’s all a bit
too reminiscent of Bambi Meets
Godzilla, if you know what I mean! It might have been better had
these been included only at the end.) As regular readers would know, I
recently undertook a critical viewing (although not reviewing)
of Bram Stoker’s Dracula –
a film which, in the course of his commentary, its director chooses to
call “low-budget”. In fact, it cost $47,000,000 – and I didn’t
get half as much enjoyment out of it as I got out of Clear
Water, which was made for the princely sum of $400;
further proof, if we needed it, of just how much talent and imagination
– and sincerity – count
for in this game. Reading back over this review, I find myself hoping
that I haven’t oversold Clear
Water. It’s no masterpiece, but it is
an interesting, effective, encouragingly serious production; one that
makes me eager to see what Andy Koontz will do next.
Footnote:
Copies of Clear Water may be purchased through Andy Koontz’s website, Horror
On Film. |
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