Gnaw Review

The premise of Gnaw (sounds like Saw, spells ‘wang’ backwards) is the same as that of many, many other horror tales. Youngsters venture deep into the woods, youngsters encounter evil incarnate, things get ugly.

It’s a premise that has been employed from Friday The 13th and Cabin Fever to Hansel and Gretel and Little Red Riding Hood. Although Gnaw owes much to the video nasties of the 70s, particularly The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the fear of being eaten is firmly rooted in the ‘fee fi fo fum’ tradition your gran was familiar with. It even features a couple called, I kid you not, Jack and Jill.

There is nowhere near the amount of viscera that fans of the Saws and Hostels of this world have come to expect; the crucial slicing and dicing is on a par with Evil Dead, released 30 years ago. This is a film that has well and truly missed the zeitgeist – aficionados of splatter have moved on. Even if you don’t like slasher flicks there’s no reason to watch Gnaw. In fact, the only people likely to be truly upset by it are asthmatics. Che Guevara was asthmatic and managed to fight several jungle wars, and it took a bullet to finish him off. Gnaw’s Matt is meant to be asthmatic, but just energetic blinking sets him wheezing like a 90 year old with emphysema.

The opening vignette sets a pace and tone that the rest of the film can’t hope to match. A young woman staggers, filthy, scratched and sobbing, through English woodland. We know it’s England because she’s clad, barely, in the white chemise popularised by Hammer studios and her pursuer drives an ancient Land Rover rather than a Dodge truck. (All the better to navigate the plot holes with, my dears?) The next time we see her she’s being bisected by a cannibal who enjoys playing with his food.

Like Halloween’s Michael Myers, the killer is mute and breathes like Darth Vader, which makes customer relations at his roadside burger van a bit awkward even without the whole ‘homicidal maniac dishing up human flesh’ thing to contend with. At least he doesn’t wear his mask (constructed out of what looks for all the world like a fox’s bum) to his day job.

This being a 21st century cannibal caper, the virgin is replaced with a vegetarian who has another secret that offers a nifty subversion of the ‘virginal victim’ idea. Other than that, the rules of the genre are so strictly adhered to it’s like watching ‘Horror Movie Bingo’. There’s a spooky house afflicted by power cuts; there are both mother issues and spy holes in the bathroom walls à la Psycho; a horny couple too stupid to live are the first to go; there’s a girl with an unwitting connection to the killer (think Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween) and ‘gotcha!’ moments aplenty. The only thing missing is the crazy old man who warns them not to go into the woods.

In the olden times of 15 years ago, the prey in these sorts of films were sent into a tizzy when they worked out the phone lines had been cut. Now everyone runs around outside waving their handsets over their heads and yelling ‘There’s no fucking signal!’ Gnaw, of course, features heaps of hammy acting. The script is utterly devoid of anything approaching competence, with the result that the characters may as well be cardboard cut outs labelled with their defining trait. Check out how Matt’s evident crush on Laurie is revealed in the full beam of Jack’s dazzling intellect:

Matt:     What do you think of Laurie?

Jack:      What do you mean, “what do I think of Laurie”?

Matt:     Nothing.

Jack:      Oh, I get it! You fancy her, don’t you?

This deathless dialogue is not meant to be funny, but at least Jack’s low IQ is later confirmed when he goes running off into the night in pursuit of a shadowy figure. Even Laurie, allegedly the ‘smart one’, is not very clued up on how the world works. When flowers inexplicably appear in her room, she seems charmed rather than unnerved.

There is some nice cinematography, but the Fincher-esque palette of brown and black coupled with the lack of lighting sometimes obscures what’s going on. The frequent fades to black are also an annoyance rather than an effective means of heightening the tension.

Gnaw’s multiple references to other films and adherence to genre convention is meant as loving homage. Unfortunately, that sticking to form leaves this film with nothing new to say. No matter which way your tastes lie, Gnaw just doesn’t serve up enough meat to really get your teeth into.

Clare Moody

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