Almost exactly a decade ago, Patrick Brice and Mark Duplass teamed up to create a found footage horror icon. One wolf mask and two movies later, Creep evolved into a full-fledged horror franchise, with a charismatic Duplass at the center of its insanity. Playing a deranged sociopath strangely comes easy for the frequent writer/director, one half of the Duplass Brothers. Both Creep movies centered around an overly-friendly madman luring in unsuspecting victims under the guise of video work, offering up a cool $1,000 if they go along with whatever he decides to throw their way. At the close of the original, it was revealed that “Josef” had an entire series of tapes, indicating there were innumerable other sadistic kills he had committed. That setup works perfectly for the television format, playing out across six distinct episodes clocking in under thirty minutes each in length. Every episode introduces a unique scenario for its respective VHS tape, showcasing sinister manipulations—Duplass’s brunette-haired, weirdly persuasive lead lures unsuspecting strangers into his bizarre, dangerous “performances.” An addictive anthology dripping with creeping dread, The Creep Tapes marks an anonymous psycho as one of modern horror’s most unpredictable villains.
Shudder seems a perfect fit for The Creep Tapes, bringing along Patrick Brice and Mark Duplass to ensure consistency between the series and its films. The intro, fueled by a synthy music score, finds us perusing the cabinet of victim-named VHS tapes. This perfectly sets the stage each time for what we are about to experience in all its eerie, atmospheric glory. The voyeuristic nature may put off those who prefer their horror tinged with a lighter tone; still, the filmmakers never forget the inherent humor baked in. The one-sentence descriptions that Shudder provided for the episodes tell little of what they actually contain within. Strung together by the serial killer at the center, these frequently disturbing mini-bites almost always contain Peachfuzz, the name for that signature wolf mask. Creep‘s most recognizable piece of iconography becomes a vital part of Mark Duplass’s unhinged performance.
Creep Tapes benefits immensely from the aforementioned versatile and unsettling performance, complete with both charm and menace. The episodic structure allows each storyline to feel fresh, while the playful nature of Wolfie’s sadism ties the narratives together. A bit of vague commentary on genre tropes draws on elements of horror and dark comedy, but never loses the impact of its freakier sequences. Varied cinematography also adds authenticity—each segment has been filmed by a different person in the context of the narrative. This allows for plenty of creative freedom. The raw intimacy of the camerawork creates a demented sense of realism, making the viewer feel as though they are caught in a twisted game. So what if we know that most (if not all) of these stories will end with their protagonists six feet under? The unique approach and anthological nature of its tapes perfectly complement the script’s unnerving proclivities.
As far as contributing to the grander overarching mythology, it would be remiss not to mention that expansion of its central character happens gradually over time. Still, if they desired to do more seasons or films, there could be plenty left to see. My personal favorites are episodes four and five, both of which toy with expectations. Episode four features a pretty great performance from Josh Ruben, whilst five inverts the stalking predator/prey dynamic. Interestingly enough, the series mostly explores horrible things happening to males rather than to females; perhaps this psycho merely has a proclivity for men? While we have still yet to see a follow-up for Creep 2‘s cliffhanger ending, The Creep Tapes provides plenty more nightmare fuel for fans of the franchise or found footage.
Press play as the disturbing Peachfuzz saga continues in The Creep Tapes, unspooling its oddities exclusively to Shudder and AMC+ subscribers on Friday, November 15th.
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