Rob Steinberg | Through the Shattered Lens

Ryuhei Kitamura’s 2012 horror film No One Lives is a gritty, brutal revenge slasher that doesn’t aim for subtlety or depth but delivers a fast-paced, high-gore thrill ride. The story follows a couple traveling cross-country who are kidnapped by a ruthless gang, only for the man to reveal himself as a deadly predator on a violent rampage. Luke Evans, playing the mysterious and merciless Driver, leads the film with a performance that blends cold calculation and terrifying violence, keeping viewers glued to the screen.

What makes No One Lives stand out is how it leans heavily into its grindhouse and exploitation roots, which proves both advantageous and limiting. The film fully embraces the hallmarks of grindhouse cinema—fast pacing, gritty visuals, excessive gore, and an amoral story stripped down to revenge-fueled violence. This raw, unapologetic approach results in an intense, no-holds-barred experience that will satisfy fans of exploitation and grindhouse styles. The practical effects are impressively executed, with creative and shocking kills that maintain impact without descending into the ridiculous. This dedication to grindhouse aesthetics gives the film a charged energy and a cult appeal, making it a pulpy, heart-pounding experience for viewers who appreciate that sleazy, nihilistic flavor.

However, the grindhouse influence also shapes the film’s limitations. The focus on spectacle and shock means character development and thematic depth take a back seat, making the story feel thin and the characters largely unrelatable except as violent archetypes. Dialogue at times drifts toward camp, and some acting choices can feel a bit amateurish, which may pull some viewers out of the otherwise tense atmosphere. The film’s relentless brutality and amoral tone also create a polarizing effect; it’s unapologetically harsh and violent, which fits the exploitation tradition, but it’s not for everyone. Those expecting traditional horror with complex narratives might find the experience shallow and exhausting.

Luke Evans’s Driver is a compelling anti-hero/monster hybrid, a character who dominates the film with his cold efficiency and unpredictable savagery. The other characters—mostly the gang members—serve as fodder for the film’s violent set pieces, with minimal background or sympathy. This suits the film’s grindhouse style, where depth is often sacrificed for thrills and shock value. The script cleverly keeps some mystery around Driver, maintaining suspense about his origins and intentions, which helps to sustain interest amid the unrelenting carnage.

The film’s grindhouse and exploitation roots also explain its tone and style: it revels in zaniness and excess, the gore is gratuitous but skillfully done, and the revenges feel morally ambiguous and raw. The film doesn’t try to justify or soften its violence; it embraces the lawlessness and nihilism typical of exploitation cinema. While this results in a tight, entertaining 86-minute rush of thrills, it also means the film lacks subtlety or emotional resonance. The style is both a badge of authenticity for genre fans and a barrier to wider appeal.

No One Lives offers a high-energy, blood-soaked horror experience that fully embraces its grindhouse and exploitation influences. It is crafted with a strong focus on unapologetic violence, tight pacing, and a captivating anti-hero in Luke Evans’s Driver. This stylized approach gives the film its raw, relentless intensity that fans of exploitation cinema will appreciate. However, this allegiance to grindhouse aesthetics also means the film prioritizes style and spectacle over emotional depth and narrative complexity. While the movie is an engaging and brutal thrill ride for those who enjoy extreme horror, its minimal character development and abrasive tone might feel one-dimensional or grating for viewers seeking more meaningful storytelling. Overall, it succeeds as a wild, gritty exploitation flick but doesn’t aim to be more than that, making it ideal for audiences who like their horror unrefined and full throttle.

Previous Guilty Pleasures

Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Tuesdays, I will be reviewing Pacific Blue, a cop show that aired from 1996 to 2000 on the USA Network! It’s currently streaming everywhere, though I’m watching it on Tubi.

I’m a little bit late with this review but so what? I mean, what’s Pacific Blue going to do? Chase me on their bicycles?

Episode 1.10 “Captive Audience”

(Dir by Terrence O’Hara, originally aired on May 4th, 1996)

The local bank is being robbed! The three robbers — desperate and murderous criminals all — have taken hostages, including TC and Cory. TC just wanted to check out his safe deposit box. Cory just wanted to withdraw some money so she could buy a motorcycle. (If she had been withdrawing the money to buy another bicycle, I would have thrown a shoe at my television.) TC is in uniform. The robbers know he’s a cop. Cory is not in uniform and she and TC are pretending not to know each other. There’s also a pregnant woman in the bank who goes into labor, which means that Cory is going to have to get over her loathing of babies to help deliver one!

*Sigh*

I think I’ve said before that I hate cop shows that feature people being held hostage. It’s always the same thing. The robbers threaten a lot of people. The hostages get beaten and abused. Outside the bank, the negotiator says, “You have to give me more time!” On Pacific Blue, the negotiator is Captain Palermo and there’s something just silly about him, in his shorts and crisp polo shirt, directing a bunch of rough-and-ready SWAT team members who are in protective gear. Hostage situations are serious and potentially deadly but Palermo chasing the robbers are on his bicycle just made me laugh and laugh. I also laughed when the SWAT team first arrived at the bank and spotted Cory and TC’s bicycles sitting outside the building. “There might be cops in there,” someone says. Apparently, they’re unsure about whether or not bike cops should be considered real police or not. I’m glad I’m not the only one.

It falls to Del Toro and Chris to track down Doc Mueller (Charley Lang), a paranoid electronics expert who lives in a tent on the beach. He agreed to help disable the bank’s alarm so that the SWAT team can sneak inside. He also taps into the head robber’s “cellular phone” so that the cops can see who he is working with on the outside. Shows from the 90s are always amusing because everyone’s always like, “He’s got a cellular phone!” In 1996, those were still unusual and only used by desperate bank robbers.

(On a positive note, one of the robbers is played by a handsome young actor named Walton Goggins. What ever happened to him? Seriously, there’s not much about his performance here that indicates the type of actor he would become but still …. WALTON GOGGINS!)

Everything works out, of course. The main bank robber tries to escape in a helicopter but Palermo chases him — on his bike! — and manages to jump into the helicopter. It would have been really impressive if not for the bicycle and the fact that the Pacific Blue uniforms — those shorts and those blindingly white shirts — make all of the characters look really silly. It’s hard to take a cop seriously when he’s dressed like an aging track coach. The important thing, though, is that Cory gets over her hatred of babies and Palermo shows that bike cops deserve as much respect as real cops.

Eh. Who cares?