Those who think the days of the truly independent sleeper are long gone should take note of the “Terrifier” films which, with their direct, rather insular appeal to hardcore horror devotees, have racked up a very tidy sum in profits from relatively tiny budgetary layouts. A third feature will be released this fall, but meanwhile there’s “Stream,” a stand-alone effort from much of the crew of “Terrifier 2” (save writer-director Damien Leone, a co-producer here), which capitalized on the original’s cult status to gross nearly $16 million two years ago. “Stream,” too, is launching as a limited theatrical event, booked between Aug. 21 to Aug. 25 in the U.S. and Canada, with other territories to follow.
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Though it breaks from their conceptual template — there’s no killer clown — “Stream” also echoes the “Terrifier” films in its general gist, as well as individual plusses and minuses. They’re all movies on the higher-quality end of that peculiar gorehound terrain, in which a surplus of sadistic violence and FX viscera compensates for near-complete disinterest in basic niceties of plot and character. A lot of wholly inept, inert quasi-underground films have been made in that vein. But Fuzz on the Lens productions, however, are colorfully well-crafted within their modest means. They’re good-looking, have professional actors, decent pacing and a degree of humor. What they don’t have is even a whiff of original ideas to alleviate the eventual monotony for anyone not automatically sold on the display of guts galore.
“Stream” is set at the Pines resort, a “pearl of Pennsylvania” according to its ads — gearing up for re-opening this weekend. Unfortunately, proprietress Linda (Dee Wallace) may not live to see that. An unseen intruder will permanently curtail her hospitality career before the opening credits commence.
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Headed thataway nonetheless are the Keenans, a suburban family consisting of mom Elaine (Danielle Harris), dad Roy (Charles Edwin Powell), 11-year-old gamer geek Kevin (Wesley Holloway) and teenage daughter Taylor (Sydney Malakeh). It is the last-named’s rebellious hijinks that inspire this forced exercise in togetherness, at the same vacation spot where they’d spent happier times a few years earlier. Also checking into The Pines are two cute young French guys who catch Taylor’s eye (Andrew Rogers, Jadon Cal), horny honeymooners (Isla Cervelli, Chris Guttadaro), a sloppy drunk (Daniel Roebuck), a polyamorous trio, and some others introduced so fleetingly they basically exist just to increase the body count.
The violence is portended by the weirdness of front-desk staffer Mr. Lockwood (a hammy Jeffrey Combs), who claims “the system is down” as an excuse for demanding payments in cash and waving away the disabled wi-fi. What he neglects to mention is that the whole place will soon be sealed shut so unlucky guests can be hunted by four masked maniacs. Those deeds are captured by surveillance cameras for streaming to bet-placing gawkers worldwide.
The rules of this snuff-y enterprise are murky at best. It seems a straight-up slaughter, though points may be awarded for extra nastiness — as in the “Terrifier” opuses, some victims remain alive and conscious a credulity-stretching length of time so more grisly harm can be heaped upon them. Once Roy realizes his family is in grave danger, he acquires an ally in fellow guest Dave (Tim Reid), an armed ex-LAPD officer. But even the occasional reversal in power dynamics doesn’t keep this trapped populace from rapidly dwindling.
With genre-fan favorites like Bill Moseley, Felissa Rose, Tony Todd and others also turning up briefly, “Stream” is very much conceived and executed as one long shoutout to a target audience schooled in the details of every past slasher franchise. Indeed, an overwhelming sense of deja vu often seems the whole point here — the sole surprise factor being an occasional ahead-of-schedule demise for figures we’d assumed would survive longer.
There’s no real backstory for the “game,” and the four mute, murderous primary “players” have little personality, beyond one being a beefy bodybuilder. Two more comprise a sort of interpretive dance duo (which is just as lame as that sounds). As a producer, Leone contributes the special makeup FX, i.e. gore, which is plentiful. But however prolonged, the kills themselves are seldom imaginative or otherwise memorable, visited upon stock characters whose cliche-riddled dialogue gives the variable performers little to work with.
Nonetheless, director and co-writer Michael Leavy (with d.p. Steven Della Salla, producer sibling Jason Leavy and Robert Privitera) have assembled a slick, energetic entertainment that will please most viewers by delivering exactly what they expect. The semi-jokey tone doesn’t do much to build tension; ditto the rather too-even pace and somewhat bland hotel atmosphere. At two full hours, “Stream” inevitably begins to feel overextended after a certain point — particularly when it reaches a coda that feels tacked on simply to cram in a few more guest stars.
Still, this unabashedly derivative movie makes so little pretense of aiming for the qualities it lacks, you can hardly begrudge boilerplate slasher enthusiasts the fun they’ll have with it. Let’s just hope the inevitable sequel expands on a fairly bare-bones premise, as the same team’s “Terrifier 2” managed.
