Shrewdly, the opening episode, “Into the Unknown” is the best of the six (and the only one provided for review when the series debuted on Screambox). The darned thing just shows up one day in the parking lot of a large, somewhat isolated apartment building. It is like a giant square, non-reflective black flat-screen TV that hovers in the air. It also appears invisible to cameras and film, as Harris discovers. He is the only one exhibiting intellectual curiosity about it, but plenty of his neighbors are obsessed.
Harris’s friend Anton has the night-watch, while Bill (who seems to hold some kind of building captain position) and his hired goons guard it by day. Increasingly paranoid, Bill fears the Square must be some kind of government experiment and/or a threat of unknown origin. He is determined to protect the building, especially Harris, from the Square, no matters how much it hurts.
Throughout it all, director Joe Lynch maintains a moody atmosphere and skillfully builds the mounting paranoia. The adaptation of Matthew Dymerski’s tale lacks the black humor and snappy attitude of many of Lynch’s film, particularly Mayhem and Everly, but it creates a sense of a self-contained community, under extreme stress.
Conveniently, the second episode, also happens to be second best in quality too. “Fixed Frequency” harkens back to 1980s teen horror, following three punky kids who prank their neighbors, by hacking their baby-monitors. Juan does not think it is very funny to terrify young mothers, but he plays along with Kurt and Cedric, because of peer pressure. Then, at their last house of the night, they hear an ominous bogeyman voice talking back to them through their walkie. It seems like he is exactly what they pretended to be—and he is coming for them next.
Helmed by Loschiavo, “Fixed Frequency” perfectly hits the right nostalgic notes. If anything, it feels a little truncated, but that suggests how effective the set-up is. Of all the first season episodes, this one could most easily be fixed-up into a feature length treatment.
Unfortunately, “Starlight,” also helmed by Loschiavo, is by far the most predictable. It follows Whit Barnett, a would-be influencer, who is as abrasive as he is pathetic. Yet, he has been selected for a mysterious new game show, which, of course, is exactly what we think it is. Oh, that crazy dark web.
The quality rebounds with “Plastic Smile,” helmed by Toby Poser & John Adams, of the Adams Filmmaking Family, who also produced Hellbender and The Deeper You Dig. Abigail’s doll Betsy seems to follow in a venerable horror tradition, because it sometimes seems to have a life of its own. However, in this case, the film’s themes of abuse, addiction, and mental health make this episode a downer, despite the quality of the direction and the performances from Beatrice Scheider as Abigail and Matt Conors as gruff Ranger Coker, who often must retrieve her for the woods outside her housing project.
Arguably, the first season closes with the third best episode, “Whistle in the Woods,” which also evokes nostalgia for 1980s horror. At the start, Nola Toles finally hosts a friend at her house, the tough-talking Sawyer, who defended her against her school bullies. Yet, Mrs. Toles adamantly insists she absolutely cannot sleep over. By the way, where is Mr. Toles? And why do all their doors have so many locks?
Most anthology series are uneven to some degree, but the highs and lows are especially extreme in Tales from the Void. Three are good to very good, while two are very bad, with “Plastic Smile” rounding out the half dozen, with its haunting but depressing power. Consequently, this is definitely a series to cherry-pick rather than binge. Only partially recommended (#1 absolutely, #2 and #6 fairly solidly, and maybe #5, in exactly that order), season of Tales from the Void releases tomorrow (8/19) on BluRay and currently streams on Tubi and Screambox.
