Bonnie and Orville

Bonnie and Orville, a short British horror from writer-director Alanna Schneider, is tense, shocking, and above all else, entertaining from beginning to end. We open on our two titular characters, Bonnie (played by Schneider) and Orville (Jacob Rose), locked away in a barn. Immediately, the film plays with perspective in a most amusing and impactful way – perspective is something which the film manipulates to its own advantage at the turning point of the narrative as well. At first, we’re to presume that there’s also a baby in the barn, crying through the night, but we quickly realise that this is Bonnie’s warped perspective. Clearly, there was once a baby in the barn, but something has happened. These are characters attempting to survive despite being trapped by, at first, unseen monstrous forces; and Bonnie’s mental state is also paying the price for the distress they’ve had to face.

One intriguing aspect of the movie’s design and aesthetic is the odd mixture of time-periods indicated through the costumes and props. For instance, were you to take the opening few minutes of Bonnie and Orville in isolation, it would absolutely appear to be a period piece; we’re in medieval times, you may very well presume. But modern elements begin to bleed into the scenery – telephone wires, for instance – and it’s quite disconcerting. This comes into full effect when the plot switches gears around half-way through. In what I would argue is the piece’s most incredible, impactful sequence, a large individual with a plastic pig face comes crashing into the barn holding a taser – yet another modern implement. What follows is a discombobulating evolution of terror and absurdity.

One’s reminded of some other great works while watching, which is a good sign. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, for one; and there’s an image towards the climax of the film – involving a cannibalistic feast – which very much evokes a scene from Peter Greenaway’s masterpiece The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover. Whether that movie has served as an inspiration or not, the gruesome display makes for a fabulously disturbing image. This horror set piece, consisting of icky, effective sound-design and gory effects aplenty, takes place within the context of our main perspective-shift: revealing the monsters of the story, and then following said monsters into their home. It’s such an unnerving way to reorient your story, and in less than ten minutes, you can appreciate the intelligent, Psycho-esque structure.

It’s a decidedly rare thing when a film like this gets my heart properly racing, but Bonnie and Orville somehow manages that during the pig-head entrance previously discussed. Because there’s a patient, quiet buildup during the first half, the second hits with awesome force. It’s not a technically flawless film (not that anything should be) and you could point your finger towards a couple of fuzzy, phone-filmed exteriors, or maybe one iffy line delivery. Yet overall, we’re blessed with fascinating writing, immersive design, clean audio, strong performances and stylish cinematography. This critic strongly recommends this new independent short for any horror film fans.