Lorenzo Bianchini's debut feature The Square Root of Three (2001) is a little yet spectacular and spooky film spoken in the Friulian dialect from northeastern Italy. The film's unique location gave it some prominence and I was glad to have stumbled across this film a few years ago. Square Root is also the most impressive shot-on-video horror debut that I have seen since Takashi Shimizu's orginal Ju-on (2000). Like Ju-on, Square Root handles its budgetary limitations very well, as talented Bianchini had many tools with which to work. 
The Square Root of Three is about three students, Max (Massimiliano Pividore), Nico (Alex Nazzi), and Asma (Tomas Marcuzzi), who are at risk of flunking. Deciding that they have nothing to lose, the trio decides to break into school after hours, redo their exams, and pop out quietly. After a successful break-in, Max and Nico lose Asma somewhere in the school. Unable to complete their task, the duo leaves before the janitor catches them in the act. The following day at school, Asma doesn't appear nor did he go home. The computer password that Max found isn't an access to the school database for grade entry, rather it's an access to a cryptic group of emails, from teacher to teacher. Realizing that something's amiss and seriously creepy, Max and Nico search for Asma and return for a final (?) evening trip to the school. 
Square Root's plot is quite simple, but Bianchini's execution is quite unique and creative. The film begins with a frame narrative, introducing detectives who are scouring the school looking for clues to the missing students. The storyline actually involving the trio flows from that one. Bianchini is able to heighten the suspense and manipulate the creepiness of the students' story with the set-ups and plot points from the frame narrative. Ruggero Deodato is a master of this technique as shown in his notorious Cannibal Holocaust (1980). One of the best scenes involves a detective's trip to a Catholic Church to ask some inquiry questions. The film lingers in the church after the detective leaves to allow the viewer into the confessional, where the priest hears a sinister confession.
Also, Bianchini is able to take what would be repetitive shots of Max and Nico running around the same halls, shooting in tunnels of a modern university, and transform the shots, by manipulating the lights, shadows, and colors (with an effective use of red), into modern-looking catacombs. Likewise, through Nico's character, who is always blacking out and waking up from bizarre dreams, Bianchini plays with the time and space elements of the duo's journey. The two are asking each other, "Was there a door there before?" or "How did my flashlight get here?" The central mystery involves the existence of a Satanic cult at the school, and Bianchini sets up the story so the viewer is asking whether Max and Nico are flipping out or is the cult effing around with their surroundings? The Satanic imagery is rarely used and its rare use has quite an impact when shown.
The Square Root of Three shows what a talented and creative person can do with a low-budget film. While Bianchini is never able to hide the low-budget roots in Square Root, he doesn't need to--the simple story is totally loaded and for a hundred minutes or so, I was both intrigued and thrilled (and jumped a few times, too). Even more impressive, Bianchini would top the success of Square Root with his next low-budget horror film, Keepers of the Beast (2006).
An interesting trend appeared in both films made and in film criticism after Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction (1994): Troy Duffy (Boondock Saints (1999)) and Guy Ritchie (Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998)), for example, probably had an easier time getting his respective film green-lit; and respectable film critics and super-geeky film people, such as myself, were quick to note how Tarantino-esque those films were. Tarantino is undeniably talented and his films are influential, but I'm not one to call a film derivative if it is reminiscent of a Tarantino work. That type of criticism is in a lot of ways unfair and it also ignores the fact that there was a whole lot of cinema before Tarantino that was influential upon filmmakers. So what does a filmmaker do when he wants to make a film he most certainly knows will be judged against and labeled as similar to Tarantino? 
Based upon 
A lot of the humor is delivered by the two gangster stooges, and it's mostly poking fun at Tarantino's films. The two attempt to have a pop-culture conversation in a car about Elton John's one bad song (he doesn't have one) or they shoot their television and want to watch a video (the Travolta one but the film is shot out of sequence). Eeva even dons a wig reminiscent of Mia Wallace's short black-do from Pulp Fiction, and there's a scene where characters are having dinner while the camera circles around them. Truth be told, I would have never brought up Tarantino in this review, but Mäkelä goes out of his way, seemingly, to bring him up in Vares.
Vares, save the Tarantino bits, is really inspired by clever Shane Black films, such as Tony Scott's The Last Boy Scout (1991), fellow countrymen Renny Harlin's The Long Kiss Goodnight (1996), and Shane Black's golden Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005). No doubt that Mäkelä had the ingredients to make a film of the same caliber, but for whatever reason, Vares never dodges the Tarantino chip on its shoulder. Vares is as glossy and slick as any Hollwood production with some frenetic and impressive shots. 
I also realize that reviewing a film from another country through ethnocentric eyes is also completely unfair, as are the Tarantino comparisons. Vares is based from a popular Finnish novel with performances by native actors. Vares even spawned a sequel, V2: Dead Angel (2007). I found these 
Two of Tsube's greatest assets are also his two of his biggest flaws: an overactive imagination and a fatalistic view of the world. As attributes, the holder of these two can produce great art; as character flaws, these two can be killers for most folks. So, let's start with Tsube's suicide attempt. Tsube finds four condoms in Kuniko's purse when she comes to visit him one day from the dormitory. Tsube can't determine if the condoms were for Kuniko's use with him, so his mind begins to hearken back in time to Kuniko's old boyfriends. A particularly shameful episode pops into Tsube's mind when one of Kuniko's suitors comes for a visit at their home. The suitor treats the couple to a nice meal and even shares their bed with them. Tsube doesn't make any wages and Kuniko lives away from him, so in Tsube's mind, he's determined that she's sleeping with someone else. It turns out that she is pregnant with someone else's child, but it's not the scenario Tsube envisioned: Tsube realizes that Kuniko made a serious mistake by having a one-night stand. He also realizes that he doesn't own her and is able to see her as the lonely person that she is. Feeling a failure, he attempts suicide and is hospitalized. His stay in the hospital is hilariously embarrassing. 
On a day trip to the country, Tsube meets Chiyoji (
Ishii films Screwed with a seeming soft-focus lens and a fondness for red hue. Screwed takes overt turns into the surreal, especially the final episode, but for the most part, the film is surreally realistic. That is to say, life is shown as unreal through realistic encounters. Asano is a perfect actor to portray Tsube. Some of my favorite performances from Tadanobu Asano are in Sogo Ishii's Electric Dragon 80000 V (2001), Takashi Miike's Ichi the Killer (2001), and Pen-Ek Ratanaruang's Last Life in the Universe (2003). A lot of Tsube's dialogue is delivered with his soft voice in voice-over, and I really enjoy watching Asano walk down the street with his head down, hearing the thoughts in his mind, and looking around the next corner for something bizarre to pop up. Screwed was one of Ishii's final films. After a very prolific film career in the 60s and 70s, Teruo Ishii disappeared for the entire decade of the 80s, only to appear in the early-90s with a new production. Younger generations of viewers and younger filmmakers brought a new appreciation to his work, and Ishii flourished again. Screwed and Japanese Hell (1999) are two of my favorites from Ishii. Whenever I watch Screwed, it always makes me laugh and puts a smile on my face. It's not because I can feel better that I don't have it as bad as Tsube, but because Tsube plays out a little bit of the human condition which gives a glance at how often we make mistakes with unforeseen consequences. I highly recommend picking up the region-one 
Andres (Andres Garcia) washes up on shore after a six-month absence. Andres does not remember anything about his trip and does not even remember his girlfriend, Angelica (Janet Agren), who has a burgeoning relationship with Andres's brother, Ricardo (Maximo Valverde). Andres decides to take it easy and relax (which includes a date to a cockfight with Angelica) until his memory comes back. However, Arthur Kennedy's Jackson knows who Andres is and he wants something from him. There's little need for concern--The Shark Cave's plot is completely perfunctory, as are the performances. So if you have selachophobia or hate spoilers, then stop reading now.
With a title like The Shark's Cave, there has got be some sharks in a cave, right? Definitely. The film's strong points are its underwater scenes. Andres's past is revealed in a flashback: Jackson hires Andres and his friend to investigate a downed airplane at the bottom of the ocean. While scuba-diving, Andres and his companion notice a large shiver of sharks apparently sleeping at the ocean floor. The sharks appear to be guarding something. Whatever it is, it is not of this earth, and it's also the cause for the plane crashing into the ocean. Andres notices a bright light during his investigation and his memory disappears. The finale of the film is amazing: it involves a massive shark frenzy. It's in these scenes where the viewer gets to see some excitement from Ricci: they are photographed in a very claustrophobic way; the jump scares work; the lighting is terrific; and the shots of the sharks are menacing.
Interestingly, the best sequences of the film involve collateral characters. In one, an unknown group of friends are relaxing on their boat, singing a few songs, and one of them has a tarot deck. A little girl notices a deadly card in the deck and walks, with tattered doll in hand, off the edge of the boat. The group immediately dives in to save her, but in the darkness, the sharks come. Stelvio Cipriani, one of Italy's greatest film composers, delivers the film's score, and it's during this sequence where the music stands out: eerie accompanying wailing sounds and horrifying dissonant notes and chords. The scene is also literally very dark, so when the light gleams off the shark's shiny skin, it's something else.
In another scene, an unknown ship captain tells his tale to Angelica about his ship sinking. The sequence could involve a ship model, because I have no idea. As hokey as the scene plays out, it is very effective.
The scene doesn't further the plot: it just serves to heighten the supernatural aspect about the mystery at the ocean floor and the guarding sharks. A mystery to which the answer is never truly revealed by the end of the film. Really no matter, I was having too much fun while the story was underwater, and by the time any of the characters came up for air or survived a shark attack, the film was over. I think that was Ricci was going for when he delivered his hidden jewel in The Shark's Cave.
Marcello Avallone's Specters (1987) is about the vast catacombs under Rome in which archaeologist, Donald Pleasence is making some unpleasant discoveries. The tomb, which he and his assistants eventually uncover, had a number of tenants, some of whom liked to engage in human sacrifices. As the team digs deeper, more and more unpleasantries are revealed.
Avallone has less than ten directorial credits with Specters being the only that I have seen. However, I am eager to see Maya (1989) and The Last Cut (1997), and from what I have read, they are two that appear to be interesting. Specters isn't a particularly strong film. It suffers from a complete lack of focus. The script appears to be written daily and the film, overall, edited clumsily to create a coherent film. Legendary Italian FX artist 
It is a miracle that beautiful Katrine Michelsen appears in this film, as the actress/singer girlfriend of one of the archaeological team. Michelsen appeared previously in Lamberto Bava's Delirium (1987). Her addition to the film seems to want to place Specters among other Italian genre films involving beautiful models, such as Delirium, Nothing Underneath (1985), Fashion Crimes (1989), and Too Beautiful to Die (1988). Michelson's performance is a highlight and a saving grace for Specters, making it a guilty pleasure. Donald Pleasence is a very fine actor and gives a competent performance in a regrettably small role. Pleasence would appear in a number of Italian films after his famous role of Dr. Loomis in Halloween (1978), one of the standouts being Dario Argento's Phenomena (1985).
Kiyoshi Kurosawa's The Guard from the Underground (1992) is a little-known film from the director of Cure (1997), Charisma (1999), and Kairo (2001). The humor of the film is very dry and the acting, although very good from all involved, is low-key. Kurosawa's camera isn't frenetic; he prefers the still shot while playing within the frame with light and shadow and movement in the foreground to the background and vice versa. Almost ten years later, Kurosawa would perfect that style of filming in Kairo, masterfully. Since Kairo, his style has changed again in another direction.
Guard, however, is a terrific film, especially the final third. In fact, it is almost as if the third act sneaks up on the viewer. Slowly and surely, Guard simmers and then comes to a roaring boil. The guard goes on a rampage in the office building and Hatsunori Hasegawa, as Hyodo, Akiko's boss, appears in the film's best scene. Hyodo attempts to coerce the key to the exit from the guard. In an equally cool fashion, he runs away as fast as he can. The humor is unique, as are the visuals. I hadn't seen this one in a decade and was glad to revisit it. One of the most interesting mixes of horror and comedy.
Not surprisingly, Your Hands on My Body strongest points are its script and its equally strong performances. The oft-told tale of romantic self-destruction is far from new, but the characters interact in bizarre and compelling ways. The feeling of being privy to an intimate conversation appears many times for this viewer. Lino Capolicchio's performance, as Andrea, is essential to the film's success, as his performance was also instrumental to the success of Pupi Avati's masterful House With Laughing Windows (1976) and also in Antonio Bido's stellar giallo, The Blood Stained Shadow (1978). Colette Descombes gives a terrific performance and sizzles in a sweet way, as opposed to her deviously wonderful performance in Umberto Lenzi's Orgasmo (1969). Erna Schürer, as Mirelle, shines in her supporting role. Giorgio Gaslini provides a subdued complimentary score. 