Studio: Uncork’d Entertainment
Director: Rhys Frake-Waterfield
Writer: Craig McLearie, Rhys Frake-Waterfield
Producer: Rhys Frake-Waterfield, Scott Jeffrey
Stars: Sarah Alexandra Marks, Marcus Massey, Judy Tcherniak, Kelly Rian Sanson, Sara T. Cohen, Ella Starbuck, Lauren Staerck
Review Score:
Summary:
A serial killer reincarnated in a Christmas tree goes on a murder spree to take revenge against the survivor whose testimony led to his execution.
Review:
We know what we’re going to get whenever we watch a Hallmark holiday movie. We’re going to get a conventionally attractive actress playing a workaholic woman who goes from humbug to ho-ho-ho after reluctantly returning to her picturesque hometown where she rediscovers the spirit of the season thanks to a rekindled romance with the one that got away. Maybe she’ll save her endearing father’s hardware store or a troubled tree lot along the way. A few things are certain though. There will definitely be jingling bells, snow-covered gazebos, hot cocoa sipped in sweaters by a fireplace, and enough colored lights to illuminate at least half of Times Square.
The comforting coziness that comes with this milquetoast simplicity is the reason why we watch those movies.
We also know what we’re going to get whenever we watch a microbudget indie horror film. We’re going to get an amateur effort from novice nobodies who use an old phone to record family and friends trotting around an ordinary home that’s supposed to be haunted. Maybe it will feature some D-list celebrity in a “how far they’ve fallen” cameo or shamelessly shove “Amityville” into the title as a desperate attempt to make people pay it a little attention. A few things are certain though. There will definitely be awful acting, eyesore effects, overexposed lighting that makes every frame look like it was washed in milk, and head-hanging regret over foolishly choosing to press Play in the first place.
Unlike Hallmark productions, the recycled routine that comes with throwaway thrillers is the reason why we avoid these movies.
Every now and again, however, the stars align for a bargain bin DTV’er to break through any barriers erected against badness. Maybe it’s been a minute since the last time you took the plunge on a sketchy release from a distributor whose name may or may not rhyme with Some Dork’s Fenferfainment, and you forgot your promise to never make that mistake again. Maybe you’re merely in the mood for an easily digestible slasher instead of a complex psychological drama. Maybe low expectations just make an exception for a crazy concept that sounds primed to hit a seasonal sweet spot. If those three things are the case, then the upholstery-themed insanity of “Killer Sofa” (review here) will have company for the holidays now that the Christmas-themed kookiness of “The Killing Tree” has loudly announced, “Hold my egg nog.”
“The Killing Tree” fits with the movies mentioned earlier. No, not the Hallmark ones, although it does feature snow, Santa outfits, tinsel garlands, and a decorative tree … that happens to be a reincarnated serial killer intent on revenge against the woman whose testimony led to his execution. “The Killing Tree” belongs to that other category, although it uses tried-and-true ol’ tricks like shapely British women drinking cocktails in short skirts to distract from dodgy dialogue, dodgy performances, and dodgy audio whenever anyone whispers.
For a movie that barely lasts 70 minutes, “The Killing Tree” contains a criminal amount of wasted time. That amount includes a lot of empty chitchat, chiefly from characters who mainly exist to supply exposition or who are only going to be murdered moments later anyway. It’s not like a setup involving a sentient tree supernaturally slaughtering people requires an extensive story, yet the script stuffs one in there anyway and still comes up short on the total duration.
Despite these dashes of stale ingredients, “The Killing Tree” finds a filling flavor for its nutty fruitcake by going all-in on an oddly uneven tone were everything is played seriously by everyone other than the tree. Director Rhys Frake-Waterfield realizes it’s impossible to pull off this premise realistically, so he simply has the cast play their scenes like they would any average fright flick while the tree behaves like a maniacal Muppet. “The Killing Tree” isn’t a true comedy, not intentionally, and yet the push of a killer tree growling out goofy lines like he’s Dick Dastardly choking on charcoal works well with the pull of performers doing things no differently than if the murderer was Jason Voorhees or Jack the Ripper.
Taking the piss would have been easy for everyone involved, and probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference to the film’s bottom line. Still, cast and crew put in extra effort by stripping down to a bikini and goosebumps for a wintry, poolside sex scene and by giving the tree magic tentacles that stretch for meters to tear people apart. Spotty CGI can’t deliver these kills convincingly, but the atmosphere Frake-Waterfield establishes excuses rough edges, and it’s a far preferable spectacle to the alternative of meager slashes and scratches.
To balance the yin of questionable production quality with the yang of good-humored horror, I intended to split the score at a plain 50/100. Then came a bonkers ending where TWO anthropomorphic trees have an explosive battle in the sky and the film instantly won another half-star.
In the end, “The Killing Tree” is just fun enough, just funky enough, and plenty Xmassy enough to provide an ideal palate cleanser after watching another indistinguishable couple experience another cookie-cutter Christmas on cable TV. I like those movies too. But sometimes we need a naughty alternative to accompany a nip of spiced whiskey, and what better way to enjoy both than with a killer Christmas tree?
Review Score: 60
“Kraven the Hunter” might as well be renamed “Kraven the Explainer,” as it’s much more of an unnecessarily tedious origin story than an action-intensive adventure.