For their follow-up to Resolution, Justin Benson and Aaron S. Moorhead ditch the meta qualities of their debut feature for straight storytelling in Spring. Their film opens with Evan (Lou Taylor Pucci) watching his mother succumb to cancer while taking care of her. A bar cook with only one friend in town, and now one enemy after viciously beating up a gang-banger, Evan takes the advice of people around him to leave town and start over. He packs his things, grabs his passport and calls an airline telling them to book a flight for him anywhere out of the country.

Evan winds up in Italy, wandering around until he befriends two British tourists. He follows them to a small, seaside village where he finds work as a farmhand for Angelo (Francesco Carnelutti). Spending his time off exploring the town, Evan meets Louise (a perfectly cast Nadia Hilker), a beautiful, mysterious woman. Evan convinces her to go on a date, and within a short amount of time the two appear to fall madly in love with each other. And then one night Louise wakes up and eats a stray cat outside her apartment.

Yes, Louise isn’t exactly the perfect girl. She’s keeping a dark, bizarre secret from Evan, the specifics of which don’t get revealed until later. Her body changes and transforms into strange, Lovecraftian creatures that she can only hold off by injecting herself with some sort of custom-made medication. Credit to Moorhead and Benson: the reason for Louise’s bizarre, seemingly supernatural affliction is completely original. It also ties directly into the film’s themes of rebirth, moving on and love.

The natural, comedic banter seen in Resolution makes up most of the (surprisingly superior) first half. Lou Taylor Pucci, a chameleonic character actor, gets to show off his skills with a sympathetic leading role, but Nadia Hilker feels like the real discovery in the film. Hilker, a German-born actress with a hard to place accent, possesses the seductive, well-traveled qualities making Nadia captivating presence from the second she shows up. Moorhead and Benson also find a way to work within their low-budget to pull off some inventive shots, presumably using drones or miniature helicopters to swoop through the city’s narrow alleyways and over the gorgeous ocean view.

The problem is that, even with the originality on display, some of it isn’t necessarily good. Once Moorhead and Benson lay everything out, including a fairytale-esque twist on Louise’s condition, the mystery disappears, only to get replaced with something more on-the-nose and messy. It makes the final act — a spur of the moment road trip — come across as hasty, a sort of exhausting sprint to the finish line. And the ending, a nice low-key way to close the film, still feels too abrupt considering the time spent on the build-up beforehand.

But it’s hard to dwell on the problems with Spring, even though they do exist. No one else in the horror genre is really trying the sort of material Moorhead and Benson work with here. Their influences appear vast (a few examples: An American Werewolf in London, Before Sunrise, From Beyond, and Possession), casually mixing genres without fumbling the transitions. There’s plenty to admire about Moorhead and Benson’s work in Spring, just not as much to love. It’s a slight misstep, but at least it’s a step in the right direction.

This review was initially published as part of our TIFF 2014 coverage. Spring is available today March 20 in limited theaters and VOD.

As I watched a demon-possessed girl split her own tongue in half with a rusty boxcutter, and then proceed to partake in the most disgusting French kiss I’ve ever seen, I was so overwhelmed with disgust that I forgot I was watching a remake of one of my favorite indie horror films ever. That’s the sign of a good remake. Evil Dead, Fede Alvarez’ take on Sam Raimi’s cult horror classic, captures the essence of the original while finding its own blood-curdling voice. Alvarez tones down the silliness, turns up the gore, adds some new plot elements and dumps about 10 tons of blood and guts over everything for good measure—we’re talking truly vomit-inducing stuff here. While it doesn’t possess the same DIY charm as the original, Alvarez’ Evil Dead impressively stands on its own, even with the absence of a certain zinger-slinging, boomstick-wielding protagonist.

Alvarez, Rodo Sayagues, and Diablo Cody (who provided an uncredited last-minute touchup) provide a deftly constructed screenplay that distances itself from the original just enough. In a last ditch attempt to save their friend Mia (Jane Levy) from the grip of drug addiction, three friends and Mia’s brother, David (Shiloh Fernandez) drive her to a remote cabin in the woods to stage an intervention. It’s five kids in a cabin—you know the drill. When one of the kids unleashes a demonic creature by reciting passages from a cursed ancient book (the Necronomicon), the group finds themselves battling something much more sinister and demonic than Mia’s addiction. The evil spirit they’ve unleashed proceeds to massacre them by possessing their bodies and orchestrating a bloody symphony of disfiguration and self-mutilation.

The biggest change made to the original Evil Dead recipe is shown early on, as the role of main protagonist—originally played by the legendary Bruce Campbell—is split between the two siblings. This was a wise choice, as Campbell’s torch is virtually un-passable—his original performance as Ash is simply inimitable. There is a respectably engaging story of abandonment and forgiveness being told between David and Mia, which goes a long way in helping set Evil Dead apart from its predecessor. Smart, smart move. There are unfortunately a couple of new one-liners thrown in to please fans of the original, but they pale in comparison to Campbell’s legendary quotables.

The supernatural elements of the original film are toned down here, somewhat regrettably. Alvarez takes a more modern, grounded approach to the story, which is frankly less entertaining than Raimi’s camp-fest. The demonic presence symbolizes drug addiction here, which is quite clever, but I ultimately prefer Raimi’s otherworldly silliness. However, the fact that this film feels different than the original is certainly a good thing. Something that I found incredibly impressive about the film is how un-sexualized it is. There are no gratuitous sex scenes, little to no nudity, the women aren’t objectified, and in fact, there is virtually zero romance to speak of. It’s a surprisingly refreshing approach for a modern horror film that helps us focus on the core of the movie—the bloodbath.

Alvarez plucks several scenes straight from Raimi’s film—the tree rape, the basement—but ratchets up the intensity and violence to new levels. Watching a thorny tree branch slide up a girl’s skirt is even more revolting in this version. There are plenty of new acts of dismemberment and torture to chew on as well—skin gets boiled, limbs get severed, faces get ripped off, and there’s a nail gun…and, um…yeah, the nail gun. Evil Dead’s tone is dark and twisted, though not so dark that you can’t still have fun. The violence is so inventive and over-the-top that it’s almost dazzling to watch. It’s like a fireworks show, except the explosions are made of body parts. It’s hugely entertaining to see just how far Evil Dead pushes the envelope, and watching the surprising ways in which you and the people around you react is what horror cinema is all about.

Levy and Fernandez do a serviceable job as the siblings, though their performances are largely forgettable. You could insert any decent, good-looking young actors into their roles and come up with the same end result. The standout performance comes from Lou Taylor Pucci, who is one of my favorite up-and-coming young actors (he was fantastic in The Story of Luke, which I loved). He plays the smarmy intellectual of the group and does a good job of instilling a sense of fear while simultaneously handling exposition duties. He takes arguably the most physical punishment of anyone in the cast, and his physicality when being brutalized is excellent. You feel his pain. You feel his pain hard.

While Evil Dead doesn’t surpass the original, it comes about as close as you can get. There is a lot of new, effective material here, more than I was expecting. What makes the film work is that it’s not completely consumed with hitting every single beat from the original. It paves its own gory path, though the spirit of Raimi and Campbell can be felt throughout (them being producers might have something to do with that). Watch with friends, hold on tight, and enjoy what is a cinematic rarity—a worthy remake. Just remember to bring a puke bag.

After the great success of the eminently popular Juno and Little Miss Sunshine, there was a deluge of similarly suburban, witty comedies that followed. These indie dramedies, while often good, haven’t stimulated me in a long time. They tend to feel derivative and aimed squarely at the same quirky hipster audience, and all sort of blur together into a pile of acoustic guitars, white people, smart-ass quips, and unrequited love. Though at first glance Alonso Mayo’s The Story of Luke seems to be another entry into the tired “cute ‘n’ smarmy” army of indie films, at the end of the day it stands head and shoulders above its contemporaries largely due to an unforgettable protagonist who you can’t help but fall in love with. This film is pitch-perfect and though not groundbreaking in any way, it consistently hits the sweet spot with deeply touching moments that are guaranteed to win you over by the end.

Luke (Lou Taylor Pucci) is an autistic 25-year-old. He was raised by his grandparents and has led a comfortably hermetic life sheltered from society. When his grandmother dies and his grandfather is sent to a home, Luke is forced of his grandparents’ house to live with his remaining family members who don’t understand him or expect much from him, much like the rest of the outside world. Feeling underestimated, the determined Luke, now with a huge chip on his shoulder, sets out on a mission to conquer the world, which to Luke means finding true love and “screwing.”

Mayo and Pucci work together to create a portrayal of a young autistic male with authenticity and taste. Luke is not a caricature, nor is his condition understated. He comes off as simply a good-hearted person with a daunting goal that he is fighting with all his might to achieve. Who couldn’t relate to that? Luke’s battles to overcome his difficulties with communication are sometimes humorous, sometimes heart-breaking. His bravery and conviction are infectiously endearing.

Tropes of the indie-dramedy variety pop up frequently in The Story of Luke, but they are executed deftly and are elevated by the protagonist’s unique perspective. There is a scene where Luke seeks the advice of his younger cousin, Megan (played by I Declare War’s Mackenzie Munro). This type of scene where a young “wise beyond her years” girl condescendingly advises the older male protagonist typically makes me cringe (ahem…500 Days of Summer…cough), but it works here because the energy between the two feels real, not silly or heavy-handed. Mayo exercises his adept sense of tone throughout most of the movie, only stumbling in a few unfunny scenes between Pucci and Seth Green. Other than a few minor hiccups, the story is effective and engaging.

Mayo uses his camera well, but there are no outstanding shots to speak of. He does succeed in capturing the emotion of the scenes, however, which is a necessity in an emotionally driven story like Luke. There is an absolutely atrocious set we see mid-way through the film that is centered on an amalgamation of monitors and buttons in a dark room that is so jarring and silly I laughed out loud. This might have been the intent, but I feel that something so cartoonish just doesn’t have a place in such a warm, grounded story. In one of the most beautiful and potent scenes in the movie, we see Luke confront his biological mother on a bench by the water. It’s a weighty scene that all parties involved handle perfectly.

Pucci makes you feel just how good-natured Luke is without reaching through the screen by yelling or over-commiting. His performance is charming, quiet and inviting; Pucci is a gifted young talent. His fellow cast-mates support his spot-on performance nicely, giving him lots of room to stretch. Surprisingly, the only slightly jarring performance comes from the experienced Green, who plays the equally socially-challenged Zack, who befriends Luke. Green goes just a tad overboard in some moments, and these scenes would have been better had he just dialed it down a little. Cary Elwes has some great moments with Pucci as his uncle, but Kristin Bauer van Straten’s (as Luke’s aunt) scenes with Pucci are the best in the film, and their relationship and chemistry is a joy to watch evolve.

The Story of Luke delivers a message of acceptance and family with class and honesty. Though Luke doesn’t end up exactly where he expected to be by the end of the film, it isn’t a sad thing. That’s life. Nobody gets precisely what they want in life, but to learn to accept who you are and the importance of family is an invaluable lesson. Luke is an irresistibly heart-warming film with a positive attitude that is guaranteed to make your day a little brighter.