COLDHARBOUR

It’s petty grumble time here at Griff Central, so let me just say that the title font is boring, too small, and too low on the screen, which I found irrationally annoying. Luckily, the key credit in the whole shebang (that of documentary maker, of course) I have no problems with. Look ma, it’s me! The Making of Coldharbour is now available at your nearest branch of HMV. In my dreams.

Anyway, I guess that since this is a movie review I should probably review the movie at some point, so let’s start by saying that it’s the first spookfest to emerge from the bubbling test tubes belonging to those mad scientists at Hanover Pictures and the HTV Workshop, and a bit of a corker it is too. Tightly worked and smoothly shot, it conjures up a genuinely unsettling atmosphere, and does it with music and lighting, like a good horror movie should. One-liner-spouting slashers and rubber monsters, no fanks, I like suggestion and shadows; and maybe this isn’t as subtle as it might be, but it’s still more in the vein of Halloween than, well, any Halloween sequel, all of which are shite, since you’re asking.

One problem I have with Coldharbour is that the plot is generic haunted house fare, with the sins of the past being revisited on the current occupants, and as such is pretty predictable, with a running time too short for any red herrings to put in an appearance. Once we know to expect spookiness, and discover that the owner of Coldharbour used to whip his slaves, it’s a pretty sure bet that the plot won’t revolve around a farcical mix-up involving two identical suitcases and a vicar whose trousers keep falling down. There’s a lot to enjoy besides, though, like Wilf Adcock as the sinister manager, who at one point juuuust fades into the bannisters, and looks all devilish beside a gothic display of candles, and gets my favourite moment in the whole thing, when he replies to Andy’s plea of ‘I’m looking for my girlfriend’ with a stony stare. Wilf’s great fun; I think ‘That’s out of boouuunds’ should be up there with ‘It’s alive! Aliiiiive!’ Oh yes it should.

The cast is largely sound; there are a few Pinocchio moments here and there, but otherwise it’s solid performances all round. Shaun Steer is a likeable onscreen presence, aces in his chemistry with Marcus Smith (‘Married life, my friend.’ ‘Tell me about it...’) and convincing when he puts his foot in it with his girlfriend. Said girlfriend is Holly Black, with sexy specs and a good deal of convincing fright in the basement scenes, keeping our minds on her performance when our eyes drift elsewhere. Shaun and Marcus ably convey the hell of those ‘shut up at the back!’ school trips, while HTV presenter Jenny Hull chips in with a convincing portrayal of a dislikeable teacher with a short fuse.

I liked the picture of Andy walking on the security camera almost keeping time with a ticking clock, and all the stuff with the lighter in the basement, and that odd rocking ladle sound, and the suggestively cyclical ending in which Andy and a girl just going into the house on a school trip share a moment. The lighting is classy in the brighter scenes and casts pools of light in dark shadows in the kitchen, and I like the way the colour scheme changes from warm and orangey to cold and blue. Director (and also writer) Paul Dudbridge keeps a firm hand on the tiller, drawing us in carefully (and I love that shot following Shaun as he walks into the fridge), although there’s a bit too much camera-on-tracks action for my liking. Even little girls don’t love dollies this much.

My favourite element of the whole thing, though, is John Tippet’s music, which adds mucho eerie tingling with its drawn out notes over a tinkling keyboard. It’s reminiscent of the scores to old BBC shows like Box of Delights; simple and ghostly, effective and spooky. It’s quality stuff and jacks up the tension admirably. Ace music, then, careful direction, solid if unsurprising scripting, and believable performances all add up to a creepy short. Now let’s see the spin-off, in which Coldharbour’s manager does away with foolhardy townsfolk who dare to go... oout of boouunds...