I was warned — in fact, I was warmed by more than one person.
After posting a generally positive review of 2011’s Grave Encounters the other day, a few folks whose film opinions I generally respect cautioned me via facebook and twitter to avoid the 2012 sequel like the plague, and I sincerely thank then for doing so — even if, as you’ve no doubt already figured out, I didn’t listen.
Should I have? Well, that’s a question I’m still trying to answer, so I’ll give a rather noncommittal “yes and no” response at this point. Yes because there’s no doubt that Grave Encounters 2 just isn’t a very good movie. No because, as a case study in how to completely fuck up a nifty premise, it’s actually rather interesting.
I guess a statement like that deserves an explanation of some sort, so here goes — ripping a page from Tox Six’s playbook for his Human Centipede sequel, The Vicious Brothers (nee Stuart Ortiz and Colin Minihan, who wrote the screenplay this time out but passed the directorial reins over to John Poliquin) have opted for the “metafilm” angle here, starting the flick out with actual snippets of YouTube reviews for the first Grave Encounters before introducing us to the fictitious Alex Wright (Richard Harmon), both a wannabe- critic and wannabe-filmmaker who didn’t care for Ortiz and Minihan’s “found footage” horror number too much but has become strangely obsessed with it regardless.
I kinda feel bad for Harmon since, within the first five minutes of “meeting” his character we see him jerking off, dressing in drag, and puking — but hey, college kids are crazy, right? In any case, thanks to some rather dubious”research,” he’s become convinced that Grave Encounters was the real deal, and flies cross-country to Tinseltown to meet the show/movie’s producer, Jerry Hartfield (Ben Wilkinson), who spills the beans that, hey, the junior sleuth is probably onto something. A visit with the supposed mother of the film’s lead actor, Sean Rogerson, only confirms his suspicions, and in fairly short order he’s off to Vancouver with his girlfriend, Jennifer Parker (Leanne Lapp) and fellow film students Trevor Thompson (Dylan Playfair) , Tessa Hammill (Stephanie Bennett), and Jared Lee (Howie Lai) to investigate the unnamed facility that doubled as the haunted Collingwood Psychiatric Institute the first time around (“off to” being a relative term here given that Playfair’s thick Canadian accent is a dead giveaway that this entire production was made in the Great White North).
That’s when things get both boring and, soon enough, stupid. We’re given a fairly steady dose of the exact same shit that happened in the first film for some time before being hit with the major revelation that somebody we thought was dead is actually alive and still trapped in the joynt, which is actually a kind of mystical netherworld that co-exists in both the material and spiritual planes at the same time. This development not only cheapens the impact the first flick had, but also saddles down the second with a horrifically OTT performance by someone who did fairly solid work last time while simultaneously undercutting the “found footage” element because Poliquin has to resort to standard filming techniques in order to make this individual’s presence fit in with the story. Or maybe he just gets lazy and doesn’t figure you’re paying all that much attention by this point, anyway.
The end result is a total mess that can’t decide what it wants to be — standard “mockumentary” fare, limp horror/comedy hybrid, or homage to other (and better) flicks — notice, for instance, that the photo above is a direct thieving from both REC and its Americanized remake, Quarantine. This movie simply ran out of ideas at about the 30 minute mark, but kept going for 90-plus, anyway.
Still, I can’t say I shouldn’t have seen it — even if , by any rational standard, I shouldn’t have. Why? Because Grave Encounters 2 is the definitive textbook example of how to make not just a lame sequel, but one so bad that it causes the original to lose a fair amount of its luster, as well. That’s definitely an accomplishment — just not a good one.