Was quite surprised by Cold Skin on Netflix last night. It's a great take on all those dead sober and rationalist horror stories we'd get at the turn of the century, like Hope Hodgson's works, Algernon Blackwood, Wells, and maybe a bit of Lovecraft's Dagon. It's about a couple of Edwardian dudes fielding off sieges by hominid sea creatures (pretty much the plot of Hodgson's Boats of the Glenn Carrig, though it's based on a more recent book by a Spanish author). The more scurvy and hairy of the two men has tamed a female of the species who he bangs every now and then. It's less scary than disquieting, like those old books were, but I was refreshed by the total lack of jump scares and just general circumnavigation of the genre's usual bad habits. Plus the barren Antarctic island whose only real scenery is a lighthouse, a whale skeleton, and a burnt-out cabin creates a wonderful atmosphere.
