100 Feet Blu-ray delivers great video and solid audio in this enjoyable Blu-ray release
After serving three years in prison for killing her husband in self defense, Marnie is back at
home under house arrest. She thinks she is alone until it becomes apparent that her husband’s
ghost has been waiting for her, and he isn’t happy about the way things ended with their
marriage.
Oh direct-to-video horror, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Despite your pervasive sugarcane gore, shoddy effects, and mediocre performances, you continue to press on, filling my Netflix queue with promising films I know next to nothing about. In spite of your shaky scripts and rampant plot holes, you make me appreciate sharp screenwriting and nuanced direction that much more. Above all, I love you for your many, many misfires, mistakes, and missteps, all of which make that rare gem, that elusive diamond in the proverbial rough, that much more satisfying. Alas, 100 Feet is not one of those films. While it doesn't strike out as readily as other low-budget drivel I've had the displeasure of inviting into my home, it fails to rise above the prevailing muck of its low-rent genre. For every quiet reflection, it offers an obvious answer. For every intriguing mystery, it delivers a thin revelation. For every potential scare, it administers little more than a mild jolt. Suffice to say, it isn't going to grace anyone's Top Ten Horror list, but it also isn't the worst DTV flick I've seen recently.
"Sigh. I know you'll never leave me, Mr. Mittensworth..."
After killing her abusive husband, an act she claims was committed in self-defense, Marnie Watson (Famke Jannsen) is sentenced to house arrest and confined to her home. A snug ankle bracelet prevents her from leaving -- as well as conveniently making it difficult for her to reach her own front door or spend time where some of her inevitable supernatural encounters are bound to take place -- and her distrusting friends and family want nothing to do with her. Before you can say "Scooby, Scooby Doo," the ghost of her dearly departed hubby begins throwing tantrums all over the house, leaving Marnie battered, bruised and bewildered. Initially, her increasingly batty behavior draws attention from her husband's former partner (Bobby Cannavale), a police officer with a serious conflict of interest, but it soon ropes in a friendly local named Joey (Ed Westwick), an unassuming delivery boy who's young enough to make Marnie's budding affections register as creepy, but old enough to make him a viable, notably legal romantic interest. But can a stack of old books help her exorcise her husband? Can a visit from a priest help her cope with the eerie events erupting all around her? Can she hope to find love when her vindictive ex is haunting her hallowed halls?
A sketchy premise? Check. An isolated heroine? Check. A forced romantic subplot? Check. Unnecessary ambiguity and mysterious motivations? Check. A neutered beastie and an anticlimactic endgame? Check and double-check. So what then does 100 Feet have going for it? Actually, quite a lot. Forgoing splashy special effects and more obvious twists and turns, writer/director Eric Reid's film is a reserved throwback to the supernatural horror of old. Like the best of its genre, it provides ample opportunity to get to know its characters and invest in their plight. Its story is simple in form and execution. Its romance, contrived as it may be, lends emotional resonance to its third act. Moreover, its ghost doesn't look like a CG insert, but rather an elusive force of evil that bends and contorts in response to its own rage. Admittedly, Reid handles each of these elements well. That being said, I was continually aware of the fact that I was watching a movie. The hair on the back of my neck took an hour-and-a-half nap, long stretches of aimless meandering allowed my interest to wane, and Reid's dialogue almost always rang false. The actors are certainly a cut above those that populate most direct-to-video debacles, particularly Jannsen, but melodrama and stilted deliveries limit the believability of Reid's lesser characters. Likewise, while Ken Kelsch's photography is the film's greatest boon, fusing light and shadow to absorbing effect, the director's go-to cuts and pedestrian framing hinder the imagery's impact.
The biggest problem though lies with the ending. It makes sense, it flows well, but it only dabbles in the expected; it wraps up cleanly and leaves few questions, but sadly doesn't pack any punch. I hesitate to say much more for fear of spoiling the story, so I'll just say this: it's a near-ritualistic ending you've literally seen dozens of times before in stronger, smarter films. Even so, 100 Feet is worth watching, if for no other reason than it outclasses the majority of its direct-to-video shelfmates. While I'm sure some will find it to be a scarier, more intense, more gratifying frightfest than I did, most of you will walk away with the opinion that your rental was three dollars well spent.
The Blu-ray edition of 100 Feet obliterates its murky DVD counterpart with an unexpectedly capable, notably filmic 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer. Colors are warm and natural, skintones are exceedingly lifelike, and blacks, though poorly resolved on three thankfully brief occasions, are rich and inky. Contrast remains strong and stable throughout, and delineation is decent (particularly considering how ominous the darkest corners of Marnie's house tend to be). Detail is impressive as well. Grain is present, but rarely obscures the film's finest textures, and object definition isn't hindered by edge enhancement, ringing, or inconsistent clarity. A number of soft shots pepper the proceedings, but all should be attributed to Reid, not Asylum's technical presentation. If anything, faint artifacting is a distraction. Luckily, it only seems to appear when harsh reds, searing flames, and bright whites dominate the frame. Otherwise, the image is clean and refined, and doesn't suffer from unintentional source noise, aliasing, DNR, or other digital nonsense. For a direct-to-video release from a small studio, 100 Feet's transfer will give fans their money's worth.
While it boasts a DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track, 100 Feet doesn't have the sonic wherewithal to measure up to its macabre potential. Dialogue is crisp and intelligible, but sometimes gets lost beneath the surge of more chaotic sequences. Voices also take a slight hit anytime John Frizzell's music takes center stage. Similarly, LFE output is weighty when called upon but restrained overall, and rear speaker activity is sufficient but unreliable, serving up immersive sequences followed by front-heavy duds. That's not to suggest the mix is mediocre -- or that the soundfield is impenetrable -- but to point out that the film's at-times two-dimensional design is a hindrance. To its credit, directionality is generally convincing and pans are effortless, meaning acoustics and ambience are given opportunities to play small but vital roles in the presentation. Ultimately, 100 Feet sounds pretty good, it just doesn't offer the polish or proficiency required to match the quality its video transfer.
With more bark than bite, 100 Feet is merely an above average direct-to-video release; a predictable horror outing that lacks an edge. Its AV presentation is more rewarding, granting ghost story diehards a surprisingly adept video transfer and an adequate DTS-HD Master Audio track. I just wish it brought more special features to the table; a commentary or a behind-the-scenes documentary would have been a welcome addition to Reid's low-budget film. Still, while renting is the wisest course of action, Janssen fans will be fairly happy with the high definition results.
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