Matty muses on a forgotten Canadian action-horror worth uncovering despite its derivative nature. 

Mounted as ‘Sacred Land’ and known in certain European markets as ‘Power Commando’, the little-seen POWER GAMES (1989) lurks in the shadows of its brethren.

A survival horror-thriller in the tradition of Deliverance (1972), this Canadian cheapie is the second Boorman riff to emerge from The Great White North after Peter Carter’s rough and ready classic, Rituals (1977). Shot in the wilds of Montreal between September and October 1988 — virtually back-to-back with its stablemate, oddball sci-shocker Cursed (1990) — Power Games was scheduled for theatrical rollout across Canada and the United States in May ‘89. Alas, following a few sales screenings, it was acquired by Filmtrust Motion Picture Licensing; and, as they would with several pick-ups of a similar nature — including Cursed — the outfit bypassed North American distribution in favour of issuing the film straight-to-video in foreign territories, primarily Italy, Brazil, and the Netherlands.

Such shenanigans immediately call to mind South African auteur Darrell Roodt’s The Stick (1988). Like Power Games, The Stick is another Deliverance-tipping action/horror mood piece based around military ops and indigenous mysticism that was denied a stateside release by Filmtrust. Both it and Power Games even comment on hot button issues in the era of their making. Hugely controversial in its homeland, The Stick offers a fierce critique of Apartheid and the Angolan Bush War; Power Games, meanwhile, spits several veiled barbs at Canada’s National Drug Strategy, and propagates the popular conspiracy theory that governments have a hand in narcotics themselves. 

Adapted from a semi-improvisational theatre production called Aunt Sally’s Summer Camp by Bruno Philip, Pierre Bastien, Michel Bougie, and acclaimed playwright Harry Standjofski, and shaped into a treatment by Philip — who’s since gone on to ply his trade as a camera op and cinematographer, with The Paperboy (1994), Screamers (1995), and Night of the Demons 3: Demon House (1997) to his credit — Power Games began as an offbeat drama before it was moulded into its final form by producer/scripter Jean-Marc Félio. Though long since ditching the movies in favour of the computer software industry, whereupon he’s exec’d several successful companies, between the late ‘80s and mid ‘00s Félio worked as a university lecturer and moonlighted as an independent producer. His name can be found on several compelling genre exercises lensed in Canada: Blood Symbol (1992), In Her Defense (1999), FearDotCom (2002), Jericho Mansions (2003), and a trio of films with producer/director Mychel Arsenault, of which Power Games is the first. 

Despite Félio’s script for Power Games boasting so much mention of the film’s intended ‘Sacred Land’ title that you’d be on the floor dead within half an hour if you drank along to it, his characters rise a notch above stock thanks to a couple of quirky touches and the fun performances that bring them to life (the richly mustachioed Sam Stone, and Maple Leaf theatre royalty Dorian Joe Clark among them). The rest of Félio’s speech bubble prattle nudges the story — which, with its blend of wargamers, woodland weirdos, and chillingly anonymous tormentors, bears a striking resemblance to Nico Mastorakis’ The Zero Boys (1986) — forward, and Arsenault proves as interested in the dramatic tension as he is twisting the suspense screws. 

Having cut his teeth in commercials — the domain where he met Félio — Power Games marks Arsenault’s feature debut. His direction is muscular. He exhibits a no-nonsense style, and emphasises polish and form; attributes that, in turn, render the film’s saggier stretches permissible, and sit in pleasingly ironic contrast to the supernatural flourishes. Félio and Arsenault would noodle in more fanciful terrain with Cursed and their swansong, period romance The Annunciation of Marie (1992) (starring, of all people, Ulrika (ka-ka) Jonsson!). Here, however, the spookier, spectral elements are a smokescreen employed by Power Games’ actual antagonists — a threat infinitely more realistic than the spirits of the dead…

Housing a back end that’s part The Most Dangerous Game (1932), part Assault on Precinct 13 (1976), and part Southern Comfort (1981), the scene in which Power Games’ psychos strut into the open is a tremendous moment, and the film’s finale is as impressively downbeat as Night of the Living Dead’s (1968) bleak sign-off. 

Recommended, warts and all.