Southbound represents a logical extension for the guys and gals behind the V/H/S series: another indie-horror anthology featuring work from the likes of Roxanne Benjamin and the Radio Silence collective, but the rare omnibus that dares to ditch the rickety wraparound device in favor of a seamless flow of one story into another. They number five in all, concluding with something of a mind-blower.
With filmmaker Larry Fessenden (2013’s Beneath) acting as a radio DJ — our ersatz Wolfman Jack, yet neither seen nor consulted — the movie opens on a stretch of highway in the middle of nowhere, as two guys specked with blood are on the run from … something, yet caught in a Möbius strip. Their maddening journey gives way to a riot grrrl band stranded, thanks to a blowout on their VW van, only to be “rescued” by a very odd couple.
Southbound peaks with the middle tale, “The Accident,” in which another unlucky motorist (Mather Zickel, I Love You, Man) attempts to save a downed pedestrian by performing emergency surgery, assisted only by instructions given to him over the phone. Written and directed by David Bruckner (2007’s The Signal), the scene builds from nervousness to an agonizing intensity. Anything following that would be at a disadvantage, but “Jailbreak” from Patrick Horvath (The Pact II) is a letdown either way — the only dud of the bunch. Not to worry, as the pleasure of terror quickly snaps back into place with a You’re Next-level home invasion, with a kick. And what a kick!
Admittedly, Southbound is not styled for mass-audience consumption. For starters, it refuses to dish out full details or satisfy your curiosity about every question it raises; it assumes you are smart enough to fill in the blanks, even if what unfolds before your eyes gives the finger to laws of nature. —Rod Lott