“What is Jug Face?”I hear you ask. Why, dear reader, it’s what the people of North Korea call Kim Jong Un behind his back. It also happens to be a rather interesting folklore-horror from Chad Crawford Kinkle, a director who you may remember from the National Least Appealing Rap Name Awards.
Stomping the same well-worn ground as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) or Wrong Turn (2003), Jug Face features in-bred communities, the occult, and isolating hostility towards the outside world. Jug Face concerns a backwards woodland society who do what all rednecks do – fuck each other silly, drink endless quantities of moonshine, and rape Burt Reynolds‘ naive friends. Oh, and they worship an unnatural pit too. This is how the third day of any four-day music festival ends up.
The sinister Pit houses an ancient malevolent entity, which has presided over the community for generations. In return for its ‘benevolence’, The Pit demands ritual sacrifice. Which is where Dawai (Sean Bridgers), a mentally challenged man, comes in. Owing to his connection with The Pit, Dawai has possessive episodes where he models ‘jugs’ based on who is intended to be the latest sacrifice. As systems go, it’s only slightly more useful than drawing stick figure representations of presidential candidates during elections.
The plot undergoes a few rather predictable turns: Ada (Lauren Ashley Carter), the protagonist whose role in proceedings involves some Jeremy Kyle-esque issues, is revealed to be the next would-be victim. A revelation that should come as no surprise to anyone who has even been in the same room as a horror movie.
Ada’s defiance of The Pit’s desires – an act to protect herself and her baby – results in a rather macabre outcome for all concerned. Spoiler alert: it’s eighty-plus minutes of Ada being whipped, ostracised, molested, and beaten – just like my last work appraisal.
Jug Face deals with the sinister aspects of the Deep South’s folklore and culture. For the most part, the film’s horror stems from how far zealots are willing to go for their society and religion. Kinkle manages to capture the lonely, suffocating feeling of the Deep South’s woodlands and make it a part of the film’s ill-defined antagonist.
The scenes depicting the sacrifices to The Pit are loud, disturbing, and blood-splattered. We don’t really see this ‘supposed’ entity, beyond the deadly effects of The Pit itself. It’s comparable to The Wickerman (1973), a superstition-based horror film about evil paganistic gods, but the primary source of the misery comes from the very human characters.
In fact, the film falters once it introduces supernatural elements. Ada’s spirit BFF (Alex Maizus) is simply Mr. Exposition, and the make-up effects used to make him appear ‘ghostly’ are absolutely crap. It’s like someone tried white-facing by going to a talcum powder factory.
Kinkle adds a few enjoyable flourishes to help heighten the sense of horror – such as the chaotic point of view sequences during the sacrifices, which serve to create a disquieting juxtaposition between the isolated Ada and the sinister embrace of The Pit. Imagine if a snuff film was awkwardly inserted into an episode of Dickinson’s Real Deal, and you get the picture.
Jug Face is a startlingly original film, with a great premise. Who would have thought that some rather cracking jugs would have such an alluring effect on society. Oo-er.
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