One half of the Vicious Brothers, Stuart Ortiz, directs his first solo horror feature with Strange Harvest: Occult Murder in the Inland Empire. It’s a faux true-crime documentary about San Bernardino’s most prolific serial killer, doing the work to trick audiences into believing its narrative authenticity. Think of Strange Harvest as the little sibling of John Erick Dowdle‘s The Poughkeepsie Tapes — the horrors of a violent, inhumane murder spree are recalled by talking heads and through revolting footage. Ortiz pays meticulous attention to the documentary’s composition, which results in believable interview subjects and tight editing techniques. It plays like a late-night serial killer special on a true crime channel. It’s organic, unnerving, and proficiently grounded as a modern criminal nightmare.
‘Strange Harvest: Occult Murder in the Inland’ Is a Serial Killer Faux Documentary
Ortiz tells the story of Leslie Sykes, aka Mr. Shiny (Jessee J. Clarkson), a Southern California slasher villain in “real” life. We hear accounts by investigators like Det. Joe Kirby (Peter Zizzo) and Det. Alexis Taylor (Terri Apple), survivors like the face-melted Glen Sandweiss (David Hemphill), and relatives reflecting on slain victims. It’s your standard question-and-answer format, with evidence footage and news reports interspersed between sobering recollections. We learn about Mr. Shiny, his obsession with slithery leeches, and the celestial entity he intends to summon. There’s a Lovecraftian aura about Strange Harvest that comes out through Mr. Shiny’s written letters — whether or not that’s valid, you can draw your own conclusions.
I appreciate how the Fantastic Fest introduction acted like Strange Harvest is a true story. Ortiz commits to his production’s bit, and there’s a perfect world outside modern spoiler culture where the film could be shown on television and taken as fact. The Poughkeepsie Tapes might be doubly frightening, but Strange Harvest contains interviews that feel infinitely more natural. Maybe the cosmetic special effects wrapped around Glen Sandweiss are a stretch, but the dialogue ranges from deeply compelling to emotionally cumbersome. Experienced detectives, homeless witnesses, and traumatized parents all feel genuine on screen; nothing forced or plastic about that exposes fakeness.
‘Strange Harvest’ Doesn’t Waste Time Frightening the Audience
Mr. Shiny’s Greater Los Angeles caper is packed with thrills and chills since Ortiz does well to scatter grotesque imagery from start to finish. Where a similar production like Dutch Marich‘s Horror in the High Desert waits until the final minutes to reward audiences with something scary, Ortiz punches us out the gate with a vile crime scene. There’s no hesitation — Mr. Shiny’s depravity sets an early and consistent tone. Ortiz understands how to space informational dumps between an increasingly disturbing mystery emphasized by corpses, which is difficult to achieve. Many filmmakers fail the format in this regard, and while Ortiz can’t sidestep all the subgenre’s pitfalls, he’s on the higher end of the success spectrum.
Strange Harvest doesn’t skimp on gruesome visuals. Mr. Shiny’s crimes platform cruelty in the name of “Kaliban,” which introduces sacrificial altars and higher powers into the mix. Severed heads are plopped central within a triangular formation of sticks, or Mr. Shiny paints a three-dotted symbol in an innocent suburban family’s blood (drained pale-white at their dinner table). It’s all so nauseatingly intentional, like the exaggerated brutality in Jay Baruchel‘s Random Acts of Violence. Ortiz repurposes ritual execution methods like the “winged” Blood Eagle for stomach-churning sights, leaning into a teased otherworldly connection between Mr. Shiny and celestial witchcraft (tied to Ophiuchus, the 13th Zodiac sign). Whether that translates into another mercilessly massacred body or glitchy apparition caught on video, Ortiz frequently punches us with jolts of adrenaline to keep his film chugging forward.
‘Strange Harvest’ Requires Some Suspension of Disbelief
With all that said, there’s a perfection to the formatting that can’t surpass subgenre expectations. Ortiz does well to weaponize viral footage and police photos in terms of the inhumanity mentioned above, but there’s still a basic scripted flow to follow. Talking heads still look into the camera and cornily recite “…but it wasn’t over…” in climactic chronology jumps. Those beats will always take us out of the moment for a spell, leaning into the overdramatization of exploited tragedies. Where The Poughkeepsie Tapes is horrific enough to distract from these stereotypical tendencies, Ortiz’s terrors are a notch softer despite graphic depictions of maimed, gutted, and dismembered bodies.
Strange Harvest: Occult Murder in the Inland Empire sinks its teeth into a diabolical California serial killer legend with shocking believability. Ortiz handles directorial duties with total confidence, and the faux documentary architecture never crumbles. There’s an intimacy about interviews that cuts to the core of raw emotionality, juxtaposed against Seven-level crime scenes that only make each pained retelling sting worse. The story’s formulaic tendencies are heightened by tight composition when it counts, either through soul-shaking gore creations or agile pacing that keeps rocketing forward.
Strange Harvest: Occult Murder in the Inland Empire premiered at this year’s Fantastic Fest.