Let Her Out (2016, Cody Calahan)

If cheap, misogynist Canadian horror gore twaddle is a genre, Let Her Out must be one its finest examples. At least in the modern era. In some ways, the worst thing about the film is director Calahan. With a single exception, his direction’s not bad. His composition is strong, his sense of space is solid (important as multiple filming locations create single ones in the film); sure, he can’t direct his cast but screenwriter Adam Seybold’s script ranges from appalling to abhorrent.

When Seybold’s just writing dialogue, it’s appalling. When he’s trying to get inside the female mind or dealing with lead Alanna LeVierge’s multiple sexual predators stalking her, it’s abhorrent. He does have a good partner in Calahan (they concocted the Dark Half-ripoff, but with misogyny, together) as Calahan loves his male gaze. The third act has triples down on it as costar Nina Kiri inexplicably races to LaVierge’s aid–riding a bicycle, breathless, her pointlessly exposed cleavage covered in sweat. Soon both Kiri and LaVierge will be covered in oily blood, so the sweat isn’t as bad as it can get.

The film opens with Brooke Henderson as a sex worker in a motel room. Calahan nearly objectively summarizes her night working–oddly, her nudity is (at least at first) less revolting than what he does with LaVierge later (mostly because she apparently said no to nudity, so he has to make it up other ways). Then some demonic guy shows up and rapes her. Fast forward a bit until she’s pregnant and then she stabs herself in the belly in an attempt to kill the baby.

At that point, it’s clear Calahan and Seybold aren’t going to make a good movie at all and probably a rather bad one. But, since I got Let Her Out as a screener, I felt it was my duty to suffer through.

Honestly, I just wanted to crap on it. Because it’s a terrible film and ought to be crapped on. And I wanted to know more about it so I could crap on more of it. Like when Seybold’s script starts throwing the word “whore” around a lot. See, LaVierge hasn’t given in to her first sexual predator stalker guy (Michael Lipka) because she just can’t “do” sex. It’s unclear at first; well, it’s not unclear. She sees herself in the mirror and feels shame and personal revulsion. It’s just not clear those feelings are because of her mother until later. Because it turns out the unborn twin inside her brain who eventually starts growing out of her has a full memory of before she was absorbed into LaVierge’s head in the womb and knows Henderson was a prostitute.

The end credits call the three guys who visit upon Henderson in the prologue her “suitors,” which seems gross, but entirely appropriate for the film.

Things get worse for LaVierge when Kiri’s boyfriend, Adam Christie, starts putting the moves on her. Christie’s a long-haired, bearded alpha male theatre director who sexually exploits Kiri while demeaning her (and making her the star in his play, which is about twin sisters–another thing undeveloped because the budget is low). He might give the film’s worst performance. Though–spoilers–when he tries raping LaVierge, the evil twin comes out and decapitates him. So, good for the “evil” twin.

Christie’s also there for the worst directed sequence, when everyone is at the party having a crazy fun theatre crowd time and staring directly into the camera. Thank goodness editor Duncan Christie (not sure if they’re related) cuts through the shots fast. Christie, the editor, is bad, which is actually rather nice. Because since Calahan’s composition is good and Jeff Maher’s cinematography is solid, Let Her Out would be technically competent overall if it weren’t for Christie, the editor, doing a lousy job editing.

He does cut together one effective sequence where LaVierge keeps flashing forward because she loses control to the evil (internal) twin. It’s not a well-written sequence–she’s talking to, arguing with, attempting to murder Kiri during it–but it’s effective. The one time Christie, the editor, manages to cut things well.

Really bad score from Steph Copeland.

Kate Fenton plays LaVierge’s doctor; the one who treats her for an emergency room visit, then when she has a brain tumor, but also for like a mental health checkup? Must be that single payer Canadian healthcare. There’s only one doctor in the whole, otherwise empty hospital.

Fenton is kind of not bad. Her lines are bad, but she doesn’t embarrass herself. The rest of the cast embarrasses themselves. Kiri least, then LaVierge. Christie, the actor, is actually somewhat better than Lipka, who’s inept as a hipster painter with his Neo-Nazi haircut forcing LaVierge to deliver his packages (she’s a bike messenger–Calahan loves her tight biking outfit, no surprise) so he can get her in his loft and, maybe, into bed.

Let Her Out is a gross movie.

Oh, crap. I forgot. The special effects are outstanding. The gore is expert.

It’s just expert gore, competent direction, competent photography wasted on a turd. No matter how oily sexy you think you can make the blood, it’s still just a bloody turd.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ0

CREDITS

Directed by Cody Calahan; screenplay by Adam Seybold, based on a story by Calahan and Seybold; director of photography, Jeff Maher; edited by Duncan Christie; music by Steph Copeland; production designer, Steve Dubois; produced by Chad Archibald, Christopher Giroux, and Calahan; released by Breakthrough Entertainment.

Starring Alanna LeVierge (Helen), Nina Kiri (Molly), Adam Christie (Ed), Michael Lipka (Roman), Brooke Henderson (Helen’s Mother), and Kate Fenton (Dr. Headly).


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