Editor’s Note: Vanyaland film editor Nick Johnston has left the country, posting up this week in the Great White North to cover the 51st Toronto International Film Festival. As usual, and perhaps now more than ever, we wish we were up there with him! Check out our continuing 2026 coverage, get rolling with our official curtain-raiser, and revisit the complete Vanyaland coverage archives from past TIFF editions.
There’s nothing quite like a good, old-fashioned slasher. You know what I mean: A Plain Jane gory horror feature without a whiff of metatextual bullshit going on behind the scenes. I have some theories as to why this is – Scream and the other innovators, of course, but there’s a need to ensure that the genre’s community remains walled-off from prying eyes – but it’s always a pleasure to see something that doesn’t need to say a secret phrase to get past the bouncer. Joshua Giuliano’s River is a solid, creepy slasher with some decent kills, a few swell performances, and a vibe that feels pretty far removed from the world of sequels, riffs and remakes. It’s also got what might be the first masked killer sporting what seems to be a broccoli boy haircut, so that’s funny.
Though this is most definitely not in meta-land, it is very high concept: a bizarre, buff guy terrorizes a family out for a sail on the river. I’d been under the impression that it was exclusively set on a boat, the kind of five-seater pleasure craft that’s the bane of many river patrols, but the action is a lot larger and broader than you might expect. It’s not really a fun outing for the three siblings at the film’s core, too, as they’re out on the water to spread their recently deceased father’s ashes, which might be a crime depending on where you’re doing it. That’s not a big deal, though. What is a big deal is that the two sisters on board (Jane Levy and Jessica Rothe) hate each other’s guts, especially because they have very different views on the dearly departed. Their baby bro (Max Mattern) is a big goofball who’s afraid of the water and can’t swim, which would be a liability if the boat breaks down. Of course, it definitely does.
Stuck in the middle of the riverbed near a covered bridge, this circumstance initially just seems like a pain in the ass. It’s the mid-90s, so no one has a smartphone; the radio’s out, and their point of departure is ten-or-so miles away. One of the girls tries to swim to shore, taking the keys so she can walk back to the car and get help, and that proves to be a terrible idea when the River Man shows up. I have no idea what to call him, so we’ll call him that. He’s ripped, wearing a pair of tight swim trunks, covered in scars, face disguised by a fleshy, expressionless mask – Michael Myers if he were invited to pose for Sports Illustrated and could swim like that other Michael with all the gold medals. She escapes him and gets back to the safety of the boat, but she loses the keys in the process. So, they’re well and truly fucked, and that’s before the arrows start flying.
Levy, Rothe, and Mattern are all well-cast, and each is endearing in their own way, though Levy’s forced to be mostly businesslike given her status as the Sibling Taking This Solemnly before the breakdown and the dynamic protagonist after. Rothe’s an old pro at the genre at this point, playing the disaffected daughter trying her best, and Mattern is shockingly funny as a fellow too awkward to live but too cute and earnest to die (or so it seems). The threat from the shore comes through clearly, and we’re worried along with them as they react to what’s coming towards them and try to figure out a plan of action. The kills are good, with some light humor thrown in for good measure, though there’s nothing out-and-out superlative compared to some of the spicier shit I’ve seen at TIFFs past. Less successful is an attempt to give the killer one motivation too many, but his circumstances are fascinating and a strong contrast to the siblings’ own. Giuliano’s direction makes the difference here, separating this from what might have been a normal Shudder original. His tension holds from scene to scene, and his misdirects are smartly constructed. Things ain’t what they seem, and that’s fun to pick apart mentally while it unfolds.
Now, River is not going to be the next Obsession or whatever – unfortunately, Curry Barker hit that jackpot, and it’ll take a few years for the coffers to fill up again – but it is something fun enough to enjoy at a midnight screening with buds. A silly sequel hook even means there might be a few more of these in the future, and I hope Giuliano expands the size and scope of the bodies of water in each subsequent title in the series (I can’t wait for Great Lake and Ocean to hit theaters in a few years). What is really nice is that he doesn’t seem to have anything to prove, either to the bread-and-butter blood-and-guts crowd going out for each subsequent Terrifier splatterfest or the artsy-fartsy losers like myself who try our best to get others to watch films like In a Violent Nature. He’s doing what he’s doing, and that confidence, paired with this strain of competence, often yields wonderful returns.