The rain never seems to stop falling outside the asylum windows in The Ugly. It's more than just weather; it feels like a constant, weeping presence, mirroring the decay within the crumbling walls of the institution and perhaps the fractured mind of the man at the story's center. This 1997 psychological thriller from New Zealand wasn't one you stumbled upon easily back in the Blockbuster days; it felt like a discovery, tucked away perhaps in the horror section, its stark cover art hinting at something deeper and more unsettling than your average slasher fare. Watching it again now, that feeling returns – the sense of unearthing a genuinely unnerving piece of cinema that burrows under your skin.
The premise hooks you immediately: Dr. Karen Shumaker (Rebecca Hobbs), an ambitious psychologist convinced she can crack the toughest cases, arrives at a dilapidated psychiatric hospital. Her subject is Simon Cartwright (Paolo Rotondo), a seemingly mild-mannered man who confessed years ago to a string of brutal murders. Simon, however, claims he wasn't entirely responsible. He insists a malevolent force he calls "The Ugly" drove him to kill. Under the skeptical eye of the hospital's stern administrator, Dr. Muldivein (Jennifer Ward-Lealand), Shumaker begins her intense interviews, plunging herself – and us – into Simon's disturbing past through a series of visceral, often unreliable flashbacks.
Director Scott Reynolds, making his feature debut here after several shorts, masterfully uses the setting to amplify the tension. Much of The Ugly was filmed within the bleak, imposing confines of the former Carrington Psychiatric Hospital in Auckland, New Zealand. You can almost feel the institutional chill, the weight of past suffering clinging to the peeling paint and shadowed corridors. This wasn't a set dressed to look creepy; it was creepy, and that authenticity bleeds into every frame, creating a claustrophobic atmosphere that’s hard to shake. Reynolds doesn't rely heavily on jump scares; instead, he builds dread through pacing, shadow play, and the unnerving ambiguity of Simon’s narrative. Is this place driving everyone mad, or was the madness already there?
At the heart of the film's power lies Paolo Rotondo's mesmerizing performance as Simon. He portrays Cartwright not as a raving lunatic, but as a man tragically aware of his own monstrosity, yet perhaps unable – or unwilling – to fully accept responsibility. Rotondo shifts seamlessly between vulnerability and quiet menace, making Simon both pitiable and terrifying. You find yourself leaning in, trying to discern the truth in his carefully chosen words, even as the flashbacks depict acts of shocking violence. Is "The Ugly" a genuine demonic entity, a manifestation of dissociative identity disorder born from trauma (his childhood flashbacks are harrowing), or merely a convenient excuse crafted by a cunning sociopath? Rotondo keeps you guessing until the very end, and perhaps even after. It’s a performance that truly anchors the film's psychological weight.
Rebecca Hobbs provides a crucial counterpoint as Dr. Shumaker. She embodies the clinical ambition, the belief that logic and empathy can unravel even the darkest minds. Yet, as she delves deeper into Simon's story, you see the professional detachment erode, replaced by a growing unease and perhaps even a dangerous fascination. Her journey mirrors our own – initially skeptical, then drawn into the chilling possibility that Simon’s claims might hold a kernel of truth. Jennifer Ward-Lealand, a stalwart of New Zealand stage and screen, offers a grounded presence as Dr. Muldivein, representing the institutional skepticism and pragmatic caution that Shumaker increasingly disregards.
What makes The Ugly linger is its refusal to provide easy answers. The film forces us to confront uncomfortable questions about the nature of evil. Where does it originate? Is it an external force that corrupts, or an internal darkness nurtured by trauma and neglect? The flashbacks depicting Simon's brutal childhood experiences are arguably as disturbing as his later crimes, muddying the waters of culpability. Does understanding the roots of monstrous behavior excuse it? The film wisely leaves these questions open, prompting reflection long after the credits roll.
It’s interesting to recall discovering this film on VHS. In an era often dominated by the ironic detachment of post-Scream slashers or high-concept Hollywood blockbusters, The Ugly felt different. It was grim, serious, and demanded patience. Its R-rating wasn't just for gore (though it doesn't shy away from violence), but for its intense psychological themes and bleak outlook. This wasn't a party movie; it was the kind of film you watched alone, maybe late at night, letting its oppressive mood wash over you. While it garnered positive attention at fantasy film festivals, it never quite broke into the mainstream, cementing its status as a cult favourite – a hidden gem for those willing to look beyond the familiar. Its $1 million NZD budget (roughly $650k USD at the time, maybe $1.2 million today) is evident in its contained scope, but Reynolds uses these limitations effectively, focusing on atmosphere and performance over expensive effects.
The Ugly is a potent and deeply unsettling psychological horror film that stands as a significant achievement in 90s New Zealand genre cinema. Its strength lies in its suffocating atmosphere, Scott Reynolds' controlled direction, and, above all, Paolo Rotondo's unforgettable central performance. It avoids simple explanations, immersing the viewer in a world of moral ambiguity and psychological decay. While its deliberate pacing and relentless grimness might not appeal to everyone, for fans of thoughtful, atmospheric horror that prioritizes chills over cheap thrills, it remains a compelling and rewarding watch. It's a stark reminder that sometimes the most terrifying monsters are the ones we can almost understand.
Rating: 8/10 - This score reflects the film's exceptional atmosphere, powerful lead performance, and thought-provoking exploration of its dark themes. It's a standout piece of 90s indie horror, held back slightly only by pacing that might test some viewers, but ultimately delivering a deeply effective and memorable experience precisely because of its commitment to its unsettling vision.
Final Thought: Decades later, the question still echoes long after the tape stops: What was "The Ugly," really? And does the answer even matter as much as the darkness it represented?