Editor's Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on October 17, 2003, and we're proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.
The overwrought hype on the DVD packaging of this Dimension direct-to-video sequel (“Filled with all-new action and incredibly eye-popping special effects, this terror-filled thriller is a must-see for all fans of intense big-screen [sic] excitement!”) doesn’t elicit much hope for the movie—nor does the very fact that it is a Dimension direct-to-video sequel. But Mimic Sentinel—bearing a “3” on the case that might actually hurt it in potential viewers’ estimation, given the negative response to Mimic 2—reveals that any franchise can get a creative goose with the right talent attached.
In this case, that talent is writer/director J.T. Petty, who scored this gig on the strength of his fest-favorite silent chiller Soft for Digging. Turning his limited budget and locations (Bucharest streets and soundstages) to his advantage, Petty whips up creepy claustrophobia as an apartment-bound young man named Marvin (Nadja’s Karl Geary), a sufferer of the Strickler’s Disease that inspired the creation of the Judas Breed insects in the original film, comes to realize that the human-mimicking monsters are lurking around his building. Confined largely to his room, he spies on his neighbors via a camera, snapping photos of them and ascribing them pet names; in case it isn’t already evident, Petty’s marching orders on this project were to create a “Rear Window with bugs.”
In that he has succeeded, to the point of distraction; there are a few too many direct echoes of the Hitchcock classic, particularly when Marvin’s blonde potential love interest (Rebecca Mader) and spunky female sidekick (his teen sister, played by Alexis Dziena, instead of a housekeeper) investigate an apartment across the way as Marvin watches helplessly. And even in a movie that runs only 76 minutes, the bugs are kept offscreen a little too long. Yet throughout the film, it’s clear that Petty is a real filmmaker, and the movie establishes its own raison d’etre instead of feeling like a quickie cash-in. The atmosphere is palpable and the acting above average for this kind of franchise entry; screen vets Amanda Plummer (as Marvin’s mom) and Lance Henriksen boost the ensemble quality rather than appearing to be slumming. And when the bugs do take center stage, the writer/director makes their attacks genuinely frightening. It’s more than enough to make one hanker to see what Petty can do with more original material (and, for that matter, to see Soft receive wider distribution).
Dimension’s 1.85:1 transfer adds to the movie’s pro veneer, holding the constant gloominess and deep blacks well and sporting fine colors and sharpness. The Dolby Digital 5.1 Surround sound is modest, but contains some fun directional effects when the bugs start flying around the edges of the frame. Their sneak attacks are at times genuinely surprising—like the disc’s solid batch of supplements, which weren’t referenced in Dimension’s initial announcement.
The extras lead off with a fairly brief (15 minutes) making-of that nonetheless packs quite a bit more interesting content than most programs of this kind. Petty leads off by talking a bit about Soft (with a few tantalizing clips included), and he and his collaborators are interviewed during the shoot at the Romanian studio. As is unfortunately usual for this sort of segment, the on-set footage is limited to too-brief glimpses, but a lot of subjects are covered, from the fact that this low-budget production still represented a big leap for Petty (he confesses to not knowing what “Print” met when he began shooting) to the numerous wild dogs that roamed around the stages (Geary even takes a break from his chat to pet one). There’s also an amusing gag casting creature creator Gary J. Tunnicliffe as a Jack-of-all-odd-jobs, doing everything from mopping floors to fetching coffee.
Petty also contributes an audio commentary that’s nicely wide-ranging. Addressing thematic and technical concerns, his talk ranges from anecdotal to aesthetic (as when he refers to using Marvin’s camera as the “anchor of the composition”) to thoughtful and occasionally rueful; he expresses regret at casting the film’s only black actor as a drug dealer who dies before the midway point. (Like many of this film series’ reviewers, he refers to the creatures as “cockroaches” when in fact they’re a unique species created to consume roaches.) While he clearly appreciates the opportunity this movie provided him, and the people who helped him bring it to the screen, his tone is also sometimes that of a class clown who had fun sneaking into this commercially motivated horror entry and turning it into what he calls “as much a sitcom as anything else.”
Along the way, he makes numerous refences to scenes and details the studio wanted changed, reminding that the movie business—even one that allows such an idiosyncratic talent its expression—is still a business. Yet the most trenchant comment on the way modern Hollywood works can be found in the DVD’s collection of cast auditions. Of the five performers featured, only the young women (Dziena and Mader) are made to pose in both profiles before beginning their readings—as if they’re vying for modeling slots rather than a feature film.
