V/H/S/85

~ Review ~

Eleven years down the line, the longest-running horror anthology film series of our times has reached its sixth entry. By using the format a little differently and keeping a tighter hold on the overall package, V/H/S/85 might be the strongest sequel yet. For the last three V/H/S movies, almost all the writer/directors have been new to the series. 85 is no different, with only Brad Buckner returning (Buckner directed the original film's first short, 'Amateur Night') to direct the frame narrative 'Total Copy'. The frame narratives of the first four movies contextualised the shorts as viral video(tape)s - sometimes with an ominous cult following - that induce some kind of derangement in the viewers. This lore feed was omitted from the fifth film V/H/S/99, which instead used diegetic clips - made by one of the characters - to break up the shorts. 85 takes another step away from the lore feed by using one of its shorts, 'Total Copy', segmented and distributed throughout the anthology. Brucker's film is a sci-fi horror, presented as a documentary following a team of scientists and their mysterious shapeshifting discovery, "Rory". It's so chopped up that its identity as fully-fledged part of the film emerges slowly, which gives it much more licence to move between comedic '80's sci-fi pastiche and genuine scares. At first a palate-cleanser between other shorts, 'Total Copy' eventually reaches a gory finale all its own, with an ending that delivers an unexpected punchline to round off the whole of V/H/S/85. 'Total Copy' is more than just its story, however. 85 mixes its frame narrative segments with interstitial clips of contemporary advertisements and film, as well as foreshadowing of later shorts, all edited together to look like 1980s channel-hopping or a VHS taped over many times, full of relics of previous recordings. The presentation is impeccable, from VHS tracking to (at least believably) old-school camera equipment. It can be disorientating at first, especially for an audience accustomed to modern cinema, but the unsettling feeling is right at home in a horror anthology, especially one named after a format which did indeed experience its heyday around 1985. Whomever is responsible for the directing and editing of all this framework (Bruckner presumably, who has been a returning creative producer for the franchise) has played with form, minimally but effectively, to give the whole film a sense of purpose and coherency. Having established the infectious viral-video cult in earlier films, the frame no longer needs exposition to sell itself as one of the dangerous videos. Viewers of V/H/S/85 thus become Kyle from V/H/S/2, consumed by a dangerous obsession. The first complete short in 85 is 'No Wake' by Mike P. Nelson, who returns later with 'Ambrosia'. Nelson's two shorts are linked and together explore fears that feel as relevant to 2023 as the footage feels located in 1985. It's a confident and gratifying twist of the knife, to move from '80's shtick and found-footage 'realism' to the modern horror of inadequate gun control. Nelson, known for more shlocky horror (The Domestics [2018], Wrong Turn [2021]) introduces a supernatural peculiarity that gives him scope for properly disturbing gore, and provides the narrative hook that ties both segments together. Having two linked shorts at either end of the movie assists its cohesion, and subtly adds to the wider V/H/S lore.

A rising star in latinx horror, Gigi Saul Gerrero is up next with her short 'God of Death', opening on set of a Mexican personality news show, "Ahorita TV". As the presenter (a fantastic Gabriela Roel) readies herself and begins her programme, the building starts to shake. As with Nelson's shorts, 'God of Death' is grounded in its period setting yet connects to current fears. This is the 1985 Mexico City earthquake, which killed at least 5000 people, but it is also our fear of a destabilised environment - natural disasters becoming more frequent and more dramatic. The devastation of 40 years ago feels disturbingly pertinent in the present moment, and seeing the reactions of the Ahorita TV crew in real-time drives this home. Natasha Kermani's 'TKNOGD' is a taping of a fringe theatre piece by performer Ada Lovelace (a tongue-in-cheek homage to the 19th-century mathematician who worked on early computers). Yet again, the film has a distinctive '80s setting but understands what we are afraid of in 2023. Ada (Chivonne Michelle) lectures on how people have replaced religion with technology, the God of which has usurped the gods of old. She introduces a prototypical virtual reality headset; as she puts it on, we see the video feed projected behind her - a digital Tron-like flat plane. Ada summons the God of Technology, which is when things go predictably awry. As we sit in 2023, wondering if the rapid development of artificial intelligence could somehow get out of hand, Kermani parallels our fears with 1980s technophobia, making clever use of the period aesthetic to trick us into believing kitsch special effects. After Nelson's return with 'Ambrosia', the final short (before 'Total Copy' concludes) is 'Dreamkill' by Scott Derrickson. Derrickson is the most illustrious director in this project, with Marvel's Doctor Strange (2016), fan favourite Sinister (2012) and last year's The Black Phone all under his belt. 'Dreamkill' is also the most ambitious short, a fitting peak for V/H/S/85 before 'Total Copy' provides an epilogue. A police detective receives videotapes of murders in advance of their occurrence and soon discovers that the tapes are coming from Gunther, a young boy with prophetic dreams that are recording themselves onto his home VCR. Whilst Derrickson plays looser with the diegetic found-footage rules, it is easily forgiven at this late stage in the movie and it gives his actors a little more room to be expressive. Dashiell Derrickson is particularly great as Gunther, a committed '80s teenage goth who takes a sideways swipe at VHS picture quality, opposite the ever-compelling Freddy Rodriguez as the detective. 'Dreamkill' uses its prophetic videotaping to wrap its story in a kind of time-loop. Its probably the least wacky short here, but ramps up style and gore with effects that replicate VHS and 80's film tech, giving it a distinct, oppressive kind of dread that is yet continuous with the form factor of the wider film.

The crux of V/H/S/85's success is that it doesn't have a weak short film in its stable. But beyond this, there is a cohesion within their themes - especially in the way they connect the past to the present - and their form. Bruckner's direction of the frame guides an "anti-Stranger Things aesthetic" that all the filmmakers utilise to tell disparate stories. There's plenty of modern techniques here, working overtime throughout to propel us into a storm of VHS artifacts, distorted sound and flashes of convincingly random footage. This is an anthology film in which the segments are impactful individually, but one which also has a total experiential feel all its own.