V/H/S/85 is streaming on Shudder. This review is based on a screening at Fantastic Fest 2023.
The V/H/S series is becoming a dependable Spooky Season staple for horror fans, and with sequels like V/H/S/85, it’s easy to see why. Another batch of filmmakers is granted creative liberties to craft short, found-on-video horrors, this time with a 1980s theme. Events range from prophetic goth kids who can predict murders to water skiers who happen upon eternal life, showing a range of storytelling that’s always been, but is becoming an even more enticing element of these V/H/S collections. We’re now five entries into an anthology series with multiple short films per title, and V/H/S/85 still feels as fresh as Betamax in 1975. If you’re a V/H/S fan, V/H/S85 won’t be the entry that sours your tune.
It’s always a nice problem when you can't immediately proclaim a favorite segment at the end of an anthology film, but after an internal back-and-forth, Gigi Saul Guerrero’s natural disaster thriller “God of Death“ takes the cake. Guerrero pays homage to her roots as a Mexico-based television studio's cameraman catches a catastrophic earthquake’s mayhem in real-time, forcing himself and emergency responders deeper into subterranean corridors to escape the wreckage. What happens next lives up to the name of the director’s production company – Luchagore – as Mexican folklore informs effects-heavy carnage atop the already dangerous conditions. Guerrero makes exceptional use of short film durations, sustaining a heart-pounding pace that’s paid off with one intensely jarring “HOLY [BLEEP]” moment.
Scott Derrickson directs another top-tier segment co-written by C. Robert Cargill titled “Dreamkill,” which is the mind-freakiest of them all. Shades of their beloved collaboration Sinister influence gratuitous murders we see through grainy, burnt-color-trailed footage – like the atrocities in Baghuul’s film collection. As carving knives saw flesh chunks that peel back like human jerky, the vibes of “Dreamkill” recall The Poughkeepsie Tapes in the way we feel disgustingly complicit, like we’re watching dark web snuff clips. It’s revolting stuff, made infinitely more interesting by introducing an investigating cop’s son who preemptively witnesses each murder in his dreams. Everything collides with cataclysmic results, cramming more twists, turns, and more bloody-good gore than some full-length features can muster.
Mike P. Nelson’s “No Wake” first hits you with boating vacationers targeted on the water by an unknown sniper, but cuts off as the bullet-riddled, mangled shooting victims emerge lakeside. It feels incomplete, although still deliciously entertaining, as bikini-clad coeds need besties to reassemble their dangling jaws (blown open like Predator’s mandible). Brain chunks and exposed intestines once again sell the level of special effects excessiveness on display, yet we’re still left wanting more – which we eventually get as the murderer is exposed later in V/H/S/85. I wish the second portion lasted a bit longer – it seems abrupt and teases more payoff – but it’s still a delightful “gotcha” as Nelson boomerangs back to deliver a final blow.
Natasha Kermani’s “TKNOGD” melds the performative indulgence of live theater with sketchy ’80s virtual reality in her gloriously back-loaded stage play. We watch an actress attempting to summon what she dubs the “Techno God,” putting on a helmet-visor contraption called “Eye-Phones” that ushers the user into a digital realm. She chants in tongues, as we watch her avatar glance around line-drawn computerland realms like the original Tron. Kermani’s always building towards the inevitable encounter that colors the film’s payoff crimson red, which delivers 1000%, but it’s a bit too streamlined in execution. Mind you, nothing fails – there’s no unwatchable segment in V/H/S/85 – it’s just a bit more one-note than the others.
Lastly is David Bruckner’s science fiction wraparound that intercuts observational research facility footage between segments. An alien entity named “Rory” is studied by scientists as it watches hours upon hours of television, learning about humanity through Jazzercise programs and ’80s sitcoms. It’s another easy-on-concept segment that concludes in bloody predictable fashion, but leaves V/H/S/85 with a killer punchline. Effects are stellar, ideas are executed cleanly (under cassette-quality tracking), and the anthology wraps without dive-bombing low points or major malfunctions.
