Movie Review: The Descent

Editor's Note: Since Iloz Zoc is unable to attend the opening day, I asked One-Eyed Willy to see The Descent. Perhaps that was not such a good idea in hindsight, but here is his review.

"Dude," said Mr. Blackbird. His illuminated plumage blinded me. It pulsated in kaleidoscopic colors that shot out rays of reds, greens, and blues.

"What," I said. My vision was hazy, and my voice sounded dull, like I was talking under water.

"Dude," he repeated, and said something else, but I couldn't make it out. It just sounded like tweeting. What a funny blackbird. With red human lips he kept repeating something, but it just sounded like tweet, tweet, tweet. His pinky finger — wow, crazy, the bird's got a little white hand at the tip of his wing — had a little gold ring. What was that he was repeating? Door of indigo and blues across the street, across my way. What was that? You want me to knock a rap in ones, threes, and twos, with these knuckles of mine. On that door of indigo and blues?

"DUDE! Wake up!"

I shot awake. "What happened?" I looked up at PegLeg Pete. He was bending down looking at me. The last thing I remember was sitting in the theatre watching The Descent. I asked PegLeg to tag along because I hate cave films. I hate caves. I hate tight places that remotely look like caves, and the whole damn idea about squeezing your ass through narrow cracks in rock walls that I couldn't even fit my pecker through is stupid and insane.

"Man, what the hell happened to you?" he said. "You started screaming like a transvestite and jumped out of your seat. You ran to the concession stand screaming 'Don't eat the Milk Duds, it's people! Milk Duds is people!' You scared the shit out of me. Crazy bastard." PegLeg looked at his watch. "Great, man. Just 'effin great. Just when it was getting good, too. Look, the next show is in a half-hour. With you or without you, I'm seeing the 'effin movie."

With PegLeg's help, I managed to sit through the entire film this time. It wasn't easy. I kept closing my eyes, but what I did see was white knuckle-busting horror that took it's time to build, then whumps you over the head until you can't take it anymore. Sam McCurdy's cinematography is spot-on, and walks a fine line between darkness and light. Just like you were in a cave — pitch black mostly, with only your electric or flare light to feebly illuminate your way.

Article Author: ILoz Zoc

Founder of the League of Tana Tea Drinkers (LOTT D), expiring writer of Zombos Closet of Horror Blog, and valet to Zombos, the noted B-movie horror actor (to his few remaining and decaying fans).

Visit ILoz Zoc's author page — ILoz Zoc's Blog