In Alaska’s winter darkness, a mother and son transform their house into a nightmare, drawing people in for abuse and cannibalism.
During my childhood in the ’70s and ’80s, I became fascinated with horror movies. Back then, the genre leaned heavily into the unreal and the outlandish—iconic villains like Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, and Pinhead ruled the screen. Despite their bloody antics, those films always maintained a certain detachment, their violence feeling almost performative and never quite believable. Today’s horror, though, often erases that safety net. Michael Caissie’s “No Tears in Hell” demonstrates this evolution, merging psychological terror with the visceral brutality that defined the “torture porn” era of SAW and HOSTEL in the early 2000s. Here, suffering and gore aren’t just present—they’re the focal point. Yet Caissie’s approach is to dwell less on the violence in action and more on its grisly consequences: shattered bodies, cannibalism, and the eerie acceptance of cruelty as routine.
Drawing inspiration from the real crimes of Russian serial killer Alexander Nikolayevich Spesivtsev, “No Tears in Hell” grounds its horror in fact. Spesivtsev, convicted of four murders in Novokuznetsk in the 1990s but suspected of killing many more, acted with the help of his mother, Lyudmila, who received thirteen years for luring victims to their apartment—a chilling detail that directly shapes the film’s core relationship.
Set in a nameless, frozen Alaskan town, the story centers on Alex (Luke Baines), who lives in a rundown apartment complex. His mother visits weekly, ostensibly just to cook, but together they hide a gruesome secret: Alex preys on young people from a local homeless camp, promising charity but delivering torture and death. The victims’ remains are partly eaten, and the rest are discarded in the river by his mother.
Their routine is disrupted when Alex kidnaps two college students, Vicky (Tatjana Marjanovic) and Trish (Audrey Neal). After killing Trish, he tries to force Vicky into becoming his partner in crime, forcing her to dismember her friend. This reckless break from their usual method draws unwanted attention—a suspicious odor alerts neighbors, and eventually, police intervention ends their spree.
While the film’s setup is intriguing and its visuals are polished, the acting is inconsistent. Luke Baines is most effective when silent, exuding menace without words, but his spoken threats lack conviction. Gwen Van Dam’s performance as the mother is adequate but unremarkable. Only Tatjana Marjanovic, playing Vicky, fully inhabits her role—her terror and desperation are both believable and compelling.
A particularly unsettling aspect is the film’s focus on violence against women. Although a couple of male victims meet quick ends, it’s the female characters who endure prolonged suffering. The camera lingers on the aftermath, at times making the violence feel excessive. In one scene, an attack happens off-screen, but viewers are soon confronted with its bloody results. While the real Spesivtsev targeted women and homeless children, Caissie narrows the focus further, which amplifies the sense of gender-based violence.
The screenplay also hints at the roots of Alex’s monstrous behavior—a childhood marred by abuse and a devastating event in a psychiatric hospital that left him both physically and mentally scarred. These backstory elements attempt to provide context, but they stop short of making Alex sympathetic.
Having watched horror films for decades—everything from “The Exorcist” and “The Omen” to “A Nightmare on Elm Street,” “Friday the 13th,” “Halloween,” and “Hellraiser”—I rarely get rattled by cinematic violence. Still, when a movie puts more emphasis on bloodshed than on character or story, it risks losing the viewer’s investment. “No Tears in Hell” might have been more effective had it taken a subtler approach, in the vein of “The Silence of the Lambs,” where what’s implied is often more disturbing than what’s shown.
Visually, the film is impressive, recalling the heavy, claustrophobic mood of David Fincher’s “Se7en.” The relentless chill of Alaska seeps into each scene, and Alex’s apartment is depicted with a disturbing authenticity. The muted palette and shadowy interiors add to the pervasive sense of menace. With deeper exploration of its characters and less reliance on visceral spectacle, “No Tears in Hell” could have earned cult appeal. Instead, it stands out for its style, but falls short in terms of substance.
Available on Video-On-Demand and Digital August 12th
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