Peril at Pincer Point (I) (Fantasia International Film Festival 2026)

Genre cinema is in remarkably good health in the U.S. with projects like Backrooms and Obsession signalling a new generation of inventive, internet‑age storytellers and emerging filmmakers who are already making waves. Here in Britain though, genre filmmaking often struggles to find the same cultural momentum, which is why the debut feature from writer/directors Jake Kuhn and Noah Stratton‑Twine (as a pair, they also have solo credits), feels like such a welcome surprise. Peril at Pincer Point is a proudly strange, deeply imaginative comedy‑mystery that carves out its own peculiar corner of the landscape.

The film centres on sound recordist Jim Baitte (Jack Redmayne), a man who’s always sporting a Frogopolis shirt, delivers his name in full, works in the industry (don’t you know?), and generally adds to the deadpan charm – but yes, he’s awful, and that’s the joke. After botching his latest job by using stock and archive audio assets in a sequence that instantly recalls the iconic Clem Fandango interactions from Toast of London, Jim’s given one last chance to prove himself. Eccentric J.W. sends him to the remote Pincer Point Island to capture original sounds and save the film he’s directing, so no pressure there then. Upon arrival, Jim encounters a community of wonderfully affected locals (one of whom is hilariously played by Noah Stratton-Twine), a nautical prophecy that seems to govern the island’s entire identity, and crabs – giant crabs the size of dogs.

A lot of early press has compared Peril at Pincer Point to Mike Cheslik’s Hundreds of Beavers, but Kuhn and Stratton‑Twine’s film is stranger, quieter and more tonally specific. Where Cheslik channels classic Warner Bros. cartoon energy, this is a stylistically committed, tonally bonkers comedy‑mystery with a very British sense of humour – more like a mash‑up of Toast of London, The Mighty Boosh, and the handmade surrealism of Czech New Wave legend Karel Zeman.

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Shot in harsh black‑and‑white with a boxed aspect ratio, the film is visually striking and leans heavily into old adventure‑movie aesthetics, but occasionally the grading can push the blacks a little too far. The cinematography makes strong use of the contrast between black and white, particularly in a standout scene where Jim encounters his predecessor on J.W.’s film in a moment that blends humour, atmosphere and visual craft. Peril at Pincer Point‘s visual identity is bold and memorable in an age where too many movies get criticised for their teal and orange grades.

Characters caught up in the prophecy speak in heightened tones and near‑poetic genre language, and both younger and older cast members deliver their lines beautifully. These sequences are some of the film’s strongest, and it’s a testament to Kuhn and Stratton‑Twine’s direction that the cast handles this stylised, antiquated dialogue with such confidence, capturing the earnest theatricality of classic adventure serials while maintaining a modern comedic sensibility. The film has a steady comedic rhythm because of the tension between Redmayne’s grounded performance and the locals’ heightened theatricality, but what makes it all the more funny is the contrast between the islanders’ dramatic, almost mythic delivery and Jim Baitte’s understated naturalism. He’s a man who simply wants to do his job, even as the world around him becomes increasingly absurd, and because of that some folks may think Redmayne’s performance is bad when it’s just super low key and deliberate.

It would be foolish of to ignore the sound design of Peril at Pincer Point, especially when given the central character and his efforts to get the right audio. Just like Berberian Sound Studio (Peter Strickland, 2012), the film has a classical aesthetic and wonderfully delivered dialogue, and like other movies that celebrate audio, the sound design is next level – both in plot with Jim Baitte’s struggles, and with how authentic the film sounds.

The biggest challenge isn’t content but context as releasing Peril at Pincer Point at festivals like FrightFest or Fantasia creates an expectation of horror intensity or genre extremity that the film simply isn’t aiming for – aside from a brief moment of dread involving Marina Hurley (Alyth Ross), who goes from sandwich girl to local legend thanks to her coronation chicken. It’s more whimsical than frightening – a deeply British, deeply weird, deeply deadpan comedy with only light touches of genre tension, and even if the tone is more restrained, the imaginative worldbuilding and committed visual effects show a level of ambition that matches its American contemporaries. Hundreds of Beavers is manic while Peril at Pincer Point is controlled chaos – the kind of oddball production that earns a loyal following (especially given the clear talent of its young cast, writers and producers), and the people who tune into its wavelength will absolutely champion it.

ROB’S ARCHIVE – PERIL AT PINCER POINT