Mortal Remains

This is one of those "there's a good movie in there" kind of movies. You know the kind; as you're watching it, you're hoping it goes to the smart places and does the smart things, because it has a clever or unique or compelling premise, but then, almost in defiance, it goes in the most disappointing direction. Mortal Remains is a horror mockumentary, investigating the life of Karl Atticus, a director who had a very brief career of two movies, was surrounded by controversy, rumor, and mystery, and died under bizarre circumstances. Atticus is explained as the "godfather of slashers", but that he was erased from the history of Hollywood, one of his movies is difficult to find, and his other movie is lost media. Along the way, the documentarians are plagued with weird happenings; a town that doesn't want to cooperate with the investigation, people in Hollywood refusing to talk about it, harassment, attacks by shadowy figures, and ties to a long-dead occult writer. I don't care that it's rather low budget, or that the acting and dialogue is mediocre. They're supposed to be filmmakers, not actors. This isn't supposed to have amazing crane shots and Vertigo zooms. I can let that slide as elements of the set-up. They even have moments where the characters address the stupidity of having the camera rolling in the circumstances they're in. Fantastic, that's a gripe I have about found footage. What I can't get past is that this movie could be fascinating and creepy and effective if it focused on the life and career and subsequent erasure of its topic, and instead, it devolves into watching three random guys be expert cryptologists and follow a bunch of coded messages like I'm watching The Amazing Race or an ARG. The cult storyline adds nothing to this movie whatsoever. I'd argue it actively detracts from it, for a few reasons. First, it's cliched as all hell. Cults aren't scary, and cults built around the writings of some Temu-brand Aleister Crowley wannabe sure as hell ain't turning the trick for scares. We've seen it before. Second and more important, sometimes in a horror movie, it's better to let the viewer's imagination attempt to fill in the blanks instead of giving something form. From very early on, almost before the title card, this movie is screaming the words "secret Satanic cult". If it wasn't there, and Karl Atticus was this warped, nihilistic, sadistic weirdo that people only spoke about in hushed whispers, that even people who would speak didn't want to be seen on camera 40 years after this guy's dead, and Hollywood refuses to acknowledge the guy even though his influence can be found everywhere ... THAT is interesting. That has a strong hook. Mortal Remains tries to play it cool and not outright say things, but by the end, it can't help itself and has to say it. Even the things it doesn't say outright -- like how his second movie had to be a closed set with actors, director, and DP only, and the actors never came back for a second day of filming -- it insinuates by jabbing the viewer in the ribs as its saying it. With a pitchfork. And then there's the ending. The last five minutes of this movie recontextualize the entire experience, needlessly so, for the sake of ... I'm not sure, really. It's a lazy, obvious, unnecessary twist. But worst of all is that it breaks the immersion and concept of the movie. Mortal Remains is presented as a documentary by these two guys and their cameraman. But the ending reframes it and opens the door to questions that break the logic of the world in which this movie takes place. I left the movie trying to make the revelation make sense within the framework of this universe, and I can't. When the movie breaks itself, it is a deeply, fundamentally flawed movie. It's a damned shame, because this could be something so much better if it kept things more vague and ditched both the cult stuff and the treasure hunt decoder ring BS. Mortal Remains isn't interested in that, though. It wants to go for the low-hanging fruit, and it somehow trips and falls doing that.