Close Calls (2017)

March 6, 2018 - 1:21am | Meredith Brown

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Richard Stringham
Jordan Phipps, Greg Fallon, Carmen Patterson, Janis Duley

I think I love Greg Fallon.

After first seeing him in 10/31, it was a delightful surprise to have him suddenly appear in Close Calls, halfway through and change up the story entirely! Oh, I should start from the beginning though…

Morgan (Jordan Phipps) is a pretty blonde teen girl with deep-seeded troubles. Aside from her immediate foul mouthed language directed toward her father, we quickly discover that her mother died approximately one year prior to the opening of Close Calls. Daddy already has a new British girlfriend (that of course is hated by Morgan), and then you know…there’s that pesky little drug problem that rears its ugly head throughout the film.

Close Calls opens through an homage to 80’s horror with the credit fonts and eerie music guiding us into Morgan’s upper income mansion. Daddy is about to go out to dinner with snooty girlfriend, Brynn (Carmen Patterson), leaving angry daughter Morgan to look after the home. And the rotting “gramma” who resides in the decrepit attic.

Of course, Morgan begins her adventurous night by digging into a hidden stash of drugs, booze and pot smoking munchies. All the while traipsing about in a fuchsia bra and turquoise panties, the incredibly well-endowed teen begins to receive cryptic calls through her father’s home office.

On top of that, we are introduced to gramma (Janis Duley) who was once a probable fun-loving spirit, now resorted to vomiting blood, eating food off the floor and looking like a grimy dishrag. The first disturbing moment encountered isn’t gramma…it’s watching Morgan going up to check on her in nothing but the bra and undies. Guess she keeps forgetting to put on a shirt?

Moving along, Close Calls is over 2 hours long. Not the typical time span of an average horror film. But then again, this has all kinds of weirdness from start to finish. Luckily, I am a huge fan of oddities!

When “friend of the father” Barry Cone (Fallon!) appears in the second hour, Close Calls gets gritty and nasty. Barry appears to be a charming, handsome albeit somewhat sleazy man that rapidly becomes an ultimate nightmare for the scantily clad Morgan. And as slimy as he gets, the more absorbed you will be. Fallon portrays the sinister would-be-rapist with such evil intent that I finally put away my loathing for millennial Morgan and rooted for her escape.

Close Calls has all the twisted elements of self-paranoia. What’s real? Who is scheming to kill Morgan? And what do the perverted crank calls mean? This is a wild, heavily bizarre world that goes from drug-fueled cunnilingus, to pure home-invasion terror. But I have a sense you will thank me for recommending that you sit through the entire jaunt!

Close Calls is a total mind fuck from beginning to end. The glimpses of madness that begin to consume Morgan come to fruition at the end, but still cries out for your own perception into what just happened. I imagine this is what you would see while having a terminal aneurysm.

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Meredith Brown's picture
Meredith Brown




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