Organised by Bruce Micallef Eynaud, Video Nasties was a night to remember as many talented filmmakers of all levels got to share some jump scares, a few laughs and celebrate film the only way we can: by having fun.

To quote Mean Girls, “In the real world, Halloween is when kids dress up in costumes and beg for candy.” In cinephile world, Halloween is when we can celebrate the horror genre without nit-picking the million and one jump scares that add nothing but an immediate burst of petrified adrenaline. It’s when we can look back through our favourite corny tropes and clichés – during the spooky season, I tend to find myself seeking out the goofy B-horror movies that terrified me as a child with outdated visual effects that still hit the mark thanks to their practical simplicities.

To me, Halloween is when horror isn’t about the quality, nor the scare factor that so many seem to seek; it is about jumping in your seat as your friends do the same, sharing a giggle a moment later.

This Halloween I found myself at Video Nasties, a horror short film challenge organised by local filmmaker (and friend) Bruce Micallef Eynaud.

The event featured five original films, a music video made by Maltese death metal band Carnivorous Horde, and wrapped up with a religious horror double bill. Each film was a coin toss in terms of cinematic standard, but the night was never about quality, nor about professional filmmakers; it was only ever about having fun.

It began with an excerpt from Richard Starkey’s (no, not the Beatle) The Next Chamber, a Squid Game-inspired concept that focuses on a modified game of Russian roulette. A small group of participants sit around a table littered with hand cannons, each contestant forced to pull their single-loaded gun’s trigger when ordered. While the dialogue would often feel rigidly scripted, the cast took it in stride, their chaotic energy enhanced by filmic colours and cinematography. Although the full film wasn’t shown, the clip sets up the premise while also functioning as a holistic work with only a handful of loose ends left flapping.

No matter how many play, only one can win… Matthew Kofi Brown. Photo: The Next Chamber

Next up were a series of homemade horrors, each with their own charismatic voices painted with amateur but impassioned technique. John Mark Abela’s Infected is a quick zombie flick that suffered technically on every axis due to haphazard shots and out of sync audio, but boasted the best make up design of any short of the night – Abela’s undead rotting through the screen. Maria Wright’s Eat forms a clever connection between bulimia and cannibalism that only falls short with its lack of focus; a price that comes with inexperience as it is Wright’s first foray into film.

Seán James Sutton’s entry, Cold Caller, is a film that starts off on the wrong foot with a simple plot that seems to be going nowhere until it shows its true nature in its third act. Also plagued with technical issues, Sutton finds a balance between creepy and comedic without missing a beat, creatively turning its confused opening into a master plan in such a short (but efficient) runtime.

The final original film was Micallef Eynaud’s The Critic, a meta film about film critics being critiqued by other critics, made by a film critic for film critics. An experienced filmmaker, Micallef Eynaud sticks to his roots in this B-horror homage whilst showing off his skills as a writer and director, cleverly leading the audience along with a monologue on criticism that echoes Ratatouille’s commentary on the same subject. Although I might be showing my bias if I were to name it my favourite film of the night, truthfully, it was. Maybe it was all that stuff about film critics…

In many ways, the work of a critic is easy… Nicholas Jackman. Photo: The Critic

Before the final two films, Carnivorous Horde’s Reckless Malice filled the theatre with an erratic beat and guitar work that is best described as ‘wicked’. I’m not a fan of death metal music, and doubt that I ever will be, but the music video gave a White Stripe sensibility as the band played in front of a black tarp, occasionally cutting to a vague narrative that embodies the horror mantra: imply the gore as it will always be more graphic in an audience’s imagination.

God’s Whisper, the first of the religious pair, adds a zombified twist to the tale of Lazarus of Bethany, reshaping the biblical story into something less saintly. Writer and director Christian Kotey points out the absurdities that come with religious fables, and does so effectively, but lacks the charisma that the other films carried as it makes its points somewhat hesitantly.

Susannah Farrugia’s Itch closed the night out on a bang: an enthralling tale focusing on a nun tormented by her own human nature that quickly explodes, shattering everything in proximity. Of all the films, Itch was the most horrifying as I had to look away several times while graphic scenes played in a menacing black & white palette, yet I always looked back with trepid curiosity. As the credits rolled, I clapped sincerely as every film had caught my attention, mulling each one over in my head with only a single collective thought: what an incredibly fun night.