REVIEW: Mulberry Street

There's a rat in me kitchen.

If I were the type of bloated, self-obsessed blogger who enjoyed stroking his own ego by handing out virtual statuettes to the films which have left an impression on his miserable life, chances are director Jim Mickle's effective 2007 killer rat flick Mulberry Street would win the coveted "Best Straightforward Execution of an Outrageously Goofy Idea" award. To be perfectly honest, I expected this After Dark Horrorfest release to be an entertaining yet horribly generic "zombie" flick with diseased rats in place of laboratories stuffed with pissed-off monkeys, nothing more. However, ten minutes into the picture, I began to suspect that Mickle was taking his extremely odd concept very, very seriously, so much so that not a single character utters one terrible vermin-related joke at any point over the course of the movie. Thankfully, Mickle is a skilled storyteller with talent to spare, allowing him to transform this painfully silly plot into something that hungrily digs its claws into your tender backside and drags you screaming down your neighbor's dimly lit hallway. Every performance is understated and powerful, allowing the audience to care deeply for these people and their highly unusual plight. Alas, the film does share several elements with Danny Boyle's 28 Days Later and Jonathan King's juicy New Zealand classic Black Sheep, a fact which may result in several naysayers lambasting the film for absolutely no good reason whatsoever. Mulberry Street is a true indie gem, a picture that opts for dreary atmosphere and unstoppable tension over copious amounts of cheap grue and lame one-liners. Larry Fessenden would be proud.

Recipe For Success: One Silly Plot Served Serious Side Up + Several Unexpected Kills + God, I Hate Rats

Beneath The Streets: Someone once told me that his parents flushed his dead cat down the toilet.

He also thought washing machines were time portals.