A band’s disappearance in spring 2024 is the springboard for Director’s Cut, a slasher from writer-director Don Capria.

A former band manager, Capria was inspired by filming a music video for a metal band to craft this warning for bands ready to sacrifice everything for fame. He may dodge the idea of a Faustian pact, but by the end, you may think he also has something to say about directors.

It’s a mysterious director who offers a punk band dealing with the death of a friend a free music video. Despite disagreeing about whether a promo is their route to stardom, the band soon finds itself on the way to an abandoned mansion in Pennsylvania.

Their saviour insists on being called Mister Director (“his shit is legit”), and it’s not long before he’s digging into the band’s past. When they turn up late for their first filming session, the wannabe stars realise Mister Director isn’t the playful type they thought and that a ‘little sacrifice’ isn’t likely to go very far after all.

Director’s Cut is a bright and colourful film that invests time in its characters. The problem is that it’s difficult to take to any of the band members, especially the lead singer, even when we know from the opening title card that things don’t look good. The crux of Capria’s point might not depend on us liking them, but it does highlight an unexpected pun in the title. Although barely running to 90 minutes, Director’s Cut could do with a far more judicious edit.

It takes a good 20 minutes for the band to reach the mansion, time that feels wasted fleshing out the anodyne bandmates and their differences. By the time the band and their entourage meet Mister Director, they’re just a bunch of disposables ready to be sacrificed to a punk soundtrack.

Fortunately, things improve when Louis Lombardi’s menacing director is on screen. His drawling New York accent and enthusiastic performance suggest he could be a different type of killer. But his last half hour of take-downs, which he undertakes alongside assistant Babs, boils down to film-set jokes (“Oh, we’ll get it in one take”). There could be fun in watching the director find inventive film-based ways to split the band up, but the attacks are formulaic. Even up to the post-credit scene, the flashes of demonic symbols that accompany them don’t make much sense.

There’s an interesting set-up for a slasher film deep in Director’s Cut, but character development is just one element that keeps it from bubbling up. Despite drug use and some awkward sex, we never see the band misbehaving before Master Director shows them how it’s really done. Capria seems to opt for the look and feel of ‘80s and ‘90s horror at all costs, and some odd fetish shots don’t make up for the lack of griminess and in-your-face style that the subject deserves. Mostly, though, while Mister Director is mostly content with single takes, Director’s Cut needed a tighter cut to make the horror sing.