The V/H/S franchise has always been a bright spot around Halloween. Even if it can frequently be a mixed bag, that scatterbrained nature also stands as part of the appeal. With different filmmakers bringing their own twisted visions to the found footage format, the possibilities are endless as to what horrors await on the next tape. V/H/S Mixtape takes that excitement to an entirely different level, delivering a music-themed collection of gruesome delights ranging from genuinely inspired to downright insufferable. While two segments offer the kind of inventive, nasty horror we have come to expect from this franchise, the obnoxious wraparound and wildly inconsistent quality make this one of the franchise’s weaker installments. Crippled by a disgusting wraparound segment, V/H/S Mixtape still offers some found footage marvels, even if its end result feels more like a questionable demo track.
Things get off to an absolutely nasty start with GWAR. A repulsive host’s introduction involves ejaculating onto drawings that subsequently spring to life in a mess of nasty green goo. That’s just the first part of GWAR’s interludes, and not a single one of them rises above low budget trappings. Still, impressive prosthetics reminded me of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Unfortunately, the novelty wears off almost immediately. Repeatedly interrupting the anthology flow with nonsensical sketches and disgusting bodily fluids eventually gives way to an extended music video that goes on for an eternity. I genuinely considered fast-forwarding through these portions, but suffered through them anyway.
Thankfully, the first proper segment, “Dance Dance Dance,” provides exactly the kind of deliciously twisted horror that makes the franchise a spooky season favorite. Centered around a forgotten children’s TV show called The Curious Chorus, the story follows a team attempting to resurrect the property by digitally scanning its original puppets to transform them into modern 3D creations. Barbara Crampton appears as an eccentric woman overseeing the project, whose almost manic enthusiasm suggests something may be amiss.
The puppets themselves are immaculately constructed thanks to effects from Jim Henson’s Creature Shop. Their oversized eyes, exaggerated expressions, and colorful felt bodies initially resemble leftovers from a forgotten educational TV show. The contrast between their cheerful, child-friendly appearances and the horrific violence they inflict is fantastic. Their physicality makes every kill even more entertaining, and filmmaker Renee Zhan finds a perfect balance between disturbing imagery and ridiculous comedy. A chaotic finale holds plenty of nasty surprises, and that signature track sung by the puppets is an absolute earworm. “Dance Dance Dance” was easily the strongest portion of the entire anthology.
“Heartbeat“ takes a totally different approach, following a couple investigating a mysterious abandoned facility near the Bulgarian border. After hearing reports of strange activity inside what may have been a decommissioned military experiment, the pair venture inside with their recording equipment, hoping to capture a viral moment for their subscribers. Their chemistry initially makes them easy to invest in; the atmosphere quickly vanishes once the duo begin experiencing bizarre auditory assaults. Strange reverberations and increasingly unbearable sounds appear to affect their minds.
There’s an interesting idea here, but the execution botches a novel concept. The audio certainly causes discomfort, and the ordeal is tragically wild. Still, the David Moreau-helmed mini-movie may give a headache due to the camerawork rather than present any genuinely frightening material. The concept fails to develop beyond its initial hook. The repetition and one-note concept hammer home the exact same point over and over again.
“The Music of Sze“ gets things back on track with one of the anthology’s creepiest and most effective stories. A filmmaker moves into a new apartment building and becomes fascinated by an eerie violin music he hears drifting down from the attic. His eccentric landlord explains that the mysterious Mr. Sze plays throughout the night but generally keeps to himself. He eventually approaches the musician, an odd man with greasy hair and an enormous mustache, and asks permission to document his work. Sze reluctantly agrees; his frantic behavior implies a sinister purpose beyond artistic expression.
Unlike several of the other segments, “The Music of Sze“ carefully builds dread before unleashing its monster. An eventual cosmic-horror payoff makes for a satisfying close. Director Ernest Dickerson crafts a memorable burst of a story that leans into the V/H/S series’ most engaging elements. The POV perspective also fits like a glove.
The final story, “Death Tone,” follows a young sound engineer attempting to complete a song inspired by her recently deceased father. After revisiting his old demo recordings, she discovers instructions where he flat out implies that creating the ultimate track will allow him to remain with her forever. Of course, that sound comes with a freakish catch. There’s certainly no shortage of creativity when it comes to the kills, and the practical effects are impressive.
Unfortunately, the story itself never becomes particularly compelling. The premise of layering suffering into music is disturbing, but the structure reduces everything to a series of bloody montages. Overall, “Death Tone” is still a moderately successful story, and the first of anything I have actually enjoyed from filmmaker RZA.
The emphasis on music for Mixtape was a clever theme for the V/H/S franchise, allowing creatives to experiment with audio visual genre elements. That nearly ten installments deep, an anthology can still find inventive ways to turn those ideas into unpredictable nightmares should be applauded. Unfortunately, it underwhelms in more than one instance. The wraparound is a garish mess. While never quite as poor as V/H/S Viral or V/H/S 85, Mixtape still ranks in the lower end of the franchise for me. Maybe for next year’s tenth entry, they can restore franchise integrity.
V/H/S Mixtape remixes a familiar found footage formula exclusively for Shudder subscribers on Friday, October 9th.
