THE KINOGO UNEASE A MONTHLY DISPATCH OF HORROR, STORYTELLING & THE UNEASE

Welcome back to the Kinogo Unease. Why do we keep seeking out horror films? We know there’s something about the genre that refuses to let us look away… but what keeps pulling us back?

This is the second issue of the Kinogo Unease. Maybe, by the end, we’ll have our answer.

Thoughts on horror, filmmaking, and the stories shaping the genre.

And yet, horror audiences also love returning to familiar nightmares. Insidious. Friday the 13th. Scream. Few genres inspire audiences to return for the seventh, eighth, or even thirteenth installment with the same enthusiasm.

We'll have to wait and see what the new Evil Dead and rebooted Resident Evil bring, but one thing is clear: horror audiences genuinely want these films because these worlds still have stories worth telling.

DC is embracing horror with Clayface, while Marvel experimented with Werewolf by Night. This year has also brought us Send Help, Hokum, Primate, Undertone, Obsession, and Backrooms, all original stories that refuse familiar formulas. That's why audiences keep returning to horror. It's one of the few genres where the next film can still feel like something you’ve never seen before. That’s the corner of filmmaking Kinogo wants to live in.

Updates from Kinogo Pictures, projects in development, and what’s coming next.

When a violent attack during an open house sends a pregnant realtor into premature labor, she must find a way to escape before she gives birth.

Anthology of Horror (Working Title)
Kinogo is developing an anthology horror feature composed of short films from filmmakers around the world. Each story follows different characters as horror unfolds across the same city over the course of a single night.

Four of the five segments are now in place. The search for the final piece continues on the festival circuit.

The rest stays behind closed doors… for now.

Upcoming horror releases and films creeping towards theaters and screens.

It Ends
Friends on a late-night food run become trapped on an infinite highway with otherworldly terrors lurking beyond. We missed this one at SXSW last year, but NEON’s pickup immediately put it back on our radar. An endless road, nowhere to turn, and something lurking outside the car? Sign us up.

The End of Oak Street
This Bad Robot production leans more survival thriller than pure horror: a family whose street is mysteriously transported to prehistoric times must survive what’s waiting outside. Dinosaurs, suburbia, and Bad Robot are more than enough to get this onto our watchlist.

The summer horror films we return to year after year.

Last issue we discussed some of our favorite summer horror films. As summer rolls on, we couldn't resist adding a few more. These are the movies that remind us sunshine doesn’t make anything less terrifying.

US
Set during a summer vacation in beautiful Santa Cruz, US proved Jordan Peele wasn’t just a one-hit wonder. GET OUT terrified us, but US followed it with some of the strangest and most haunting imagery in modern horror. One of our favorite supporting characters, played by Tim Heidecker, also worked with Kinogo Pictures on our latest film, SEND A SCARE.

MidSommar
Ari Aster proved with his sophomore film that HEREDITARY was no fluke. Few films capture the unsettling feeling of endless daylight quite like MIDSOMMAR. If you're heading to Europe this summer, maybe save this one for after you get home.

Event Horizon
With the passing of Sam Neill, it felt appropriate to spotlight one of his horror classics. While Event Horizon isn't technically a summer movie, it was released in August 1997, so we're counting it. After all, summer is a season of exploration… no expedition is more terrifying than the one aboard the Event Horizon.

Forgotten horror worth rediscovering

This B-movie cult classic perfectly captures those hot-weather junk food cravings so many of us have in the summer. It's a sharp satire of American consumerism, mass media, and the latest health craze that may leave you questioning what's in your next snack.

This month’s nightmare

Horror comes in all shapes and sizes, and some of our favorite stories, myths, and urban legends began as original short stories. They allow new voices to shine, and horror is a genre especially well suited to the short form.

With each issue, we'll spotlight an original short story from a filmmaker, writer, or collaborator within the Kinogo community. Today's story comes from writer Andrew Ryan, one of the writers behind our upcoming film Send A Scare. We hope it evokes the kind of fear that has you locking your bedroom door before you go to sleep tonight.

Turn down the lights, settle in, and enjoy this month's nightmare.

By Andrew Ryan

Ezra started in ’92, back when copying VHS tapes was easy to get away with.

All it took was two VCRs, some RCA cables, and time. A lot of time. You sat there while one machine played and the other recorded, watching the counter crawl forward, adjusting tracking when the picture warped, rewinding when something slipped. It wasn’t the fastest process, but it worked. And he had it down to a routine.

Ezra’s place smelled like warm plastic and overworked computers. Every wall was stacked with VHS tapes. Sometimes he sold tapes at flea markets. Sometimes he dropped them at addresses with cash waiting under the mat. Other times people would leave them at his door. No receipts, no names. Just tapes in and tapes out. Most of them came during the day.

But not this time.

It was just past eleven when there was an abrupt knock on the door. Ezra tepidly opened it to a man in a dark coat. His face was peeling from a bad sunburn. He didn’t introduce himself. He didn’t negotiate. He just handed over a black duffel bag, followed by a thick wad of cash.

“Copies,” the man said. “All of them. By morning.”

The amount was more than enough to not ask questions. Ezra nodded and the man disappeared.

BEEEEEEEEP!!!

A warning tone blasted out as Ezra dove for the remote and adjusted the volume. White text flashed on the screen:

“This tape is only to be viewed through official protected barriers to limit exposure!”
Ezra’s thumb hovered above the STOP button. He was weirded out; was this a ruse? And “exposure” to what? He did nothing and the tape played on.

Another warning appeared. This one was read by a narrator with a deep and resonant voice, like a voiceover from one of those ominous 80s PSA campaigns.

“This instructional cassette contains restricted material protected under Federal Security Directive 14. If you do not possess Level-7 Operational Clearance, cease viewing immediately and report the incident to The Defense Advanced Project Taskforce (800-555-0199). If this material has come into your possession through unauthorized channels, it is likely your safety is at risk.”

Static filled the screen before a title card appeared in blocky white letters beneath a crest of the US government:

“INTERNAL COMMUNICATION TRAINING VIDEO 24D”.

It was government stuff. Training videos. Bureaucratic procedure. “How to format internal memos”, “how to transfer a call”, “how departments are structured”. That kind of stuff.

Ezra breathed easy and went about his night: he rode his exercise bike for thirty minutes, called his sick aunt in Delaware, burnt his mouth on an over-microwaved pizza pocket, and worked on his model plane— an F-14A Tomcat.

All while the tapes droned on in the background.

It wasn’t until halfway through the fourth tape that Ezra felt something was off.

“FIELD IDENTIFICATION TRAINING — SUBJECT CLASSIFICATION: TYPE 3 FOREIGNERS” flashed up on screen.

Ezra slid closer to the television set.

The footage showed people going about their ordinary day. Walking down the street, at the office, lunch in a park. The images were grainy and washed out.

They looked as if they’d been scratched from her face and all that remained were holes, filled with an impenetrable darkness.

Ezra leaned forward, “What…” he uttered.

Shaken, he hit the STOP button on the remote. The VCR didn’t respond. The spools inside kept spinning through the plastic casing. He jammed his thumb into the button again, harder this time, but the woman's empty, hollow gaze remained locked on the glass screen.

He tried to look away, but a heavy, numbing weight settled at the base of his skull. His eyelids burned. He wanted to blink, needed to blink, but his gaze was pinned to the dark voids on the screen, drawn in by a magnetic pull that made the rest of his living room fade into a cold blur. For a moment, it looked like his eyes were darkening. Like someone was dripping ink into them.

When suddenly: BEEEEEEEEP! The scene was interrupted by the same warning message from earlier: “If you do not possess Level-7 Operational Clearance, cease viewing immediately and report the incident to…”

Ezra’s trance was broken. He ripped the power cord from the wall, killing the video.

He paced around the room. Panicking. Ezra looked at the duffel bag. Four tapes copied. Eight remaining. He could stop. Call that number that kept flashing up.

He took a deep breath. Composed himself. And looked at that pile of cash he’d just been given. He could do this. They were just tapes… right? He plugged the cord back in and hit record. Ezra watched on from a distance, as if that might protect him in some way.

The narrator continued in his same commanding tone. “Subjects exhibit irregular ocular response. We are still unsure why this is the case, but prolonged eye contact is not advised.” The image held for too long before snapping back to the wider shot.

The tape cut to a staged scene at a cafe. Bright lighting, cheap set, unmistakably 80s. Text flashed at the bottom of the screen: “INCORRECT APPROACH”. An actor labeled “Agent” stepped into frame and approached a man sitting at a table reading the paper.

There was no sense of mind control here. The scene abruptly ended.

A still image flashed up. A strange man, shown from two angles: facing forward on one side, from the side on the other. Like a police composite. His skin was peeling, his complexion pink. His jaw hung too long and his eyes were dark holes, like the woman from before. Then it flickered away, as if it weren’t supposed to be there.

By now, Ezra was getting really freaked out. What had he stumbled upon? What was he copying, and most importantly… Who was he copying it for?

More scenarios followed, each one building on the last. Each time, the narrator would offer guidance, always followed by the same phrase, “We are still unsure why this is the case.”

More still images flashed up of these dark eyed “people”. They rotated in a flash as the tape jumped and skipped. Snippets of the narrator came and went as the noise built to a creepy crescendo. Ezra tried to stop the tape but again his remote didn’t work. He dove for the power cord but just as he was about to pull on it, the tape finally came to an end. Static filled the screen.

Ezra lay frozen. Every nerve in his brain screamed at him to run out the front door. But at that moment, something took hold of him. Instead, his hands moved with terrifying, autonomous precision. He set the tape aside and grabbed the next one. His thumb pressed RECORD. He couldn't stop. He was a machine now, duplicating his own nightmare until morning. And when the first light crept through the blinds, his eyes reflected nothing at all. They were black voids now.

Andrew Ryan is a dual US-Australian citizen who studied film in British Columbia. His films have screened at major festivals, and he has written for television in Australia. Andrew currently has several projects in development, including Kinogo Pictures' upcoming horror film Send A Scare, now wrapping post-production.

Maybe that’s why we keep coming back to horror. It lets us wander somewhere dangerous, stare at something we shouldn’t, and still make it safely home.

Until next month, keep the lights on... and remember, some tapes are better left unwatched.

Sleep well.

– Kinogo Pictures