Sidebar: Mason would, of course, go on to play Nabokov's famous pervert Humbert Humbert a few years later, and Mason and Humbert both adored Poe. "Annabel Lee" plays a huge part in Lolita, both book and film, and you can hear Mr. Mason reading that poem, and the full text of "The Tell-Tale Heart," from a recording made in 1959.
I love the UPA animation style -- all blocky and textured, and focused more on design and mood than movement or simple gags. Of course, this one has no laughs at all, and is so moody that the British Film Board classified this cartoon as "X," for adults only.
It was unusual at the time to have a cartoon ignore comedy, and what's even more unusual is its pedigree: the writer was Bill Scott, who would go on to write Rocky and Bullwinkle (and voice the antlered member of that duo until his death), and the director would also make his name directing the moose and squirrel.
This film is stylized and impressionistic, in keeping with the story's wholly unreliable narrator. The film inexplicably links the fearful eye with mundane objects, turning a water jug or a clock's face into objects of horror. I love the poetry of the shadows, and the whole bold ambitious spirit. This is great animation art.
(A note on today's buy link: the only way to purchase this film, as far as I can tell, is on the original DVD release of Hellboy. But it's cheap, and would be worth it just to have this cartoon forever.)
I just watched Green Room, a low-budget indie film from this year. You may have heard of it, since it has a few stars in it and was very very well-reviewed. It's been on my to-watch list for a little bit.
A low-end punk band, The Ain't Rights, get stiffed on a job. Their replacement job is a rough one, playing for politically questionable hardcases (okay, they're white supremacists) in the middle of nowhere. The gig starts out rocky, but they manage to win over the crowd. Of course, then, something goes terribly wrong. It's tense and brutally effective, watching the band struggle to get out from under. I don't watch much horror, certainly not many current films. This is more of a siege thriller than a horror film, and while there's one (arguably gratuitous) piece of gore, it's mostly just enough blood to keep us grounded in the reality of the situation.
There's a lot of terror in the idea of a calm, implacable evil that cannot be reasoned with. The bad guys in this movie aren't particularly malicious, just cold-blooded criminals trying to eliminate witnesses. Their level-headed patience and endless resources feel not just unconquerable, but inescapable.
A word on the actors: Patrick Stewart is the main draw for this film, even if his American accent isn't perfect. I was expecting him to go to more chilling depths for his villain, though maybe the script didn't give him leeway to get bone-deep. I've never seen young Mr. Yelchin in anything before, though his portrayal seems perfectly fine, and I can see why people are mourning his loss. Of course, I also enjoyed seeing Alia Shawkat in this (as I would in anything) and enjoyed her non-sexualized role as just another musician.
Finally, the director's previous film was called Blue Ruin(it sounds good, by the way). This is Green Room.
BLUE RuiN
GREEN RooM
If we follow the ROY G BIV progression on the first words of each title, and the alphabetic progression of the last letter, his next film should be called Yellow Rule. I'm looking forward to it..
I think I've mentioned before that my knowledge of horror is almost all self-directed, so I haven't seen a lot of the best or most-respected movies, or read a lot of the best books. Until this year, I had never seen this film, usually voted one of the scariest movies of all time. I saw the director's 2000 recut of the film, and it sounds like most of his changes made the movie worse, rather than better.
I don't believe in demons, possession, spooks, haints, ghosts, or exorcism. This is probably the main reason I didn't find the movie particularly gripping or scary. (Sorry, fans of this movie. Nothing personal.) I can usually turn off, or at least ignore, my skeptical brain while watching fantasy or horror movies, but this film's insistence that it's kinda-sorta based on a true story rubbed me the wrong way (also why I have never seen The Amityville Horror). Let's be clear: exorcism isn't real. It does real-life harm to real-life people, and I can't separate that real-life pain from the escapist fun I should have from a genre movie.
With all that said, I did find a lot of the movie unsettling and shocking, even if it didn't scare me. The sedate opening surprised me by its placid slowness, though some of the rougher, later edits unsettled me and surprised me more. Individual pieces of the movie are shocking, and some of them are effective emotional assaults. I couldn't help but feel the mother's pain and frustration during the first part of the film, though the later torturous excesses shut down my emotions. I still found myself responding, from time to time, from my lizard-brain instincts -- a good trick in a good film. Here, I just felt cheated and almost condescended to by the film.
So many parts of this film have become culturally-known, of course, that I had their surprises spoiled through osmosis. It would be interesting to have seen the movie, not knowing what Father Karras's mother is alleged to be doing in hell, or to be taken aback by the vomit and head-spinning. That is no fault of the movie, of course, but I'm not sure how much more pleasure I could have gotten from those scenes anyway. Would the movie have been more shocking? Yes. Better? Not to me, no.
I haven't yet heard a review of the new TV show based on this movie (though I can't imagine I'd be interested in seeing it). Apparently, this year there's also a house at Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights based on this, which is rumored to be more conceptual and sounds at least intriguing. This idea feels (to me) better suited to a jump-scare gross-out theme park attraction than a feature film.
I've got more Frankenstein posts coming soon, but first -- more food!!!
For a few years now, my mother and I have been addicted to the Krispy Kreme Pumpkin Spice cake doughnuts. The density and heaviness of the cake works with these flavors, and the glaze puts a perfect touch on the warm spices.
Finally, this year they're also available in a smaller size. I like the little Krispy Juniors -- they're identical in taste and texture to the full-sized ones, but the serving size is more to my current needs. I've been working on this bag all week, literally since the last time I wrote a post, and I'm not done yet. I'm about to eat my last one, microwaved for a few seconds, and then maybe a cold glass of milk.
(I couldn't find a buy link for the smaller ones, though I imagine they're in grocery stores all over the South. The full-size ones are great too though, I promise.)
James Whale's sequel to his first Frankenstein film came four years later, and after he made a successful different Universal monster movie, The Invisible Man. It's widely agreed that Bride of Frankenstein is Whale's masterpiece.
Whale and several screenwriters took years to come up with a story worth telling, and teased a few philosophical points from the Shelley novel, while creating new twists on the original film's themes. Since the first film's release, a new and vigorous censor had come to power in Hollywood, so the film has less than half the murders originally scripted for it, and focuses a lot more on fantastical horror, rather than gruesome realities.
The film opens with an elaborate sequence featuring Mary Shelley herself, along with her husband and Lord Byron, who clamor for more story (while recapping the first film). Shelley tells her audience that she has some ideas for a continuation. So the Creature survives the original film's ending, as does his creator.
As the Creature menaces the film's most irritating character (a comic-relief servant), Henry Frankenstein is taken home to recover from his injuries. Almost immediately, he is taken away again by his old mentor, a crazed philosopher, Dr. Pretorius. Pretorius wants to collaborate with Henry, and has something to show him.
Dr. Pretorius's campy character and miniature creations feel like a (nearly silly) diversion from the original story, but they're a symptom of the changed tone. While Henry and the Creature undergo more humanistic adventures, the true mad scientist of this film is (like Byron in the prologue) a proudly irreverent God-scoffer. Pretorius dines in a crypt, laughs at Henry's attempts to live within conventional morality, and blackmails murderers to further his own ego-driven ends.
This film spends some time explicitly pointing out that man isn't meant to play God (even putting those words into Shelley's mouth in the prologue, though her own stated goals in the novel didn't include that). I don't know how much of this is due to the new censor, or just an overabundance of moralistic caution, but it feels too preachy. In a film where two characters mock God in speech, I'm not sure we also need to be reminded that mocking him in practice is bad. The repeated cross symbolism is almost overbearing. (Though, apparently, my least favorite example, a lingering image of a wall-mounted Christ during a fadeout, was neither Whale's idea, nor liked by him.)
A lot of the original cast had moved on (for health or other reasons) since the first film, so several characters were recast. As someone watching the two films back-to-back (something the movies weren't designed for, and which would almost never have happened when they were released), I found it jarring to have a different person playing Elizabeth (and, less so, the burgomaster). The shifts in tone and recasting, and the addition of a more prominent musical score, make the film noticeably different from its precursor. It's loopier, more creative, though no less horrific.
And, it should be said, it's also more human. Henry's attempts at emotional recovery feel almost like a metaphor for addiction, while the Creature's repeated attempts to find companionship earn our sympathy. Of course, the sweet scenes with the blind hermit memorably tease the Creature (and us) with potential domestic contentment. More than the rest of the film, these scenes succeed at one of Shelley's original stated goals from the novel, the one to remind us how much better friendship is than almost anything else.
This sequel is much more complex, more deeply-layered, than the first film. It's got the same depth of moody shadows, the same obsession with death and rebirth, but it's also more thoughtful, more expressive, funnier and more horrible. It's just got so much more movie in it.
How do you do? I feel it would be a little unkind to present this blog post without just a friendly word of warning: it might even horrify you! Well, we warned you.
James Whale's classic film adaptation has proven to be the most indelible version of Mary Shelley's beloved monster. From its endless atmospherics to Karloff's brilliant portrayal, all the parts join together to sum up the melodramatic horror.
There's a reason this film is still revered and beloved, emulated and quaked at. Whale's moody, introspective lighting and staging cemented Universal's place at the center of the monster-movie universe. (Tod Browning's Dracula, ten months earlier, is also note-perfect in every respect, but this second masterwork proved that horror could repeatedly succeed artistically and financially. This film, even more than Dracula, proved the worth of a monster franchise that Universal is still working on today.) (To be clear: I love the thoughtfulness of the novel, and its philosophic bent really spoke volumes to me. My favorite things about the novel aren't in this film. I think it's possible that someone may, one day, make a good film version of that profound statement. I also think it will never be as beloved as this film, possibly not even by me.)
A few parts of this film seem like filler today: Frankenstein's father, the blustery and speech-impeded Wodehouse aristocrat, is a stock type that exists only to inject a touch of humor into the grim darkness. And the wedding celebrations go on a bit too long for my taste, though the painful undercutting of the joy by Maria's father wouldn't be as effective if they were removed entirely.
But the vast majority of the film is glorious: gloomy lighthouse scenes, the captivating electrical gadgets, Frankenstein's mad (and wholly unscientific) speed-rant about the rays of life. The majesty of Colin Clive's feverish performance contrasts so well with Karloff's quiet childlike simplicity as he tries to grasp sunlight.
I love this film, and I remember loving its sequel, Bride of Frankenstein, even more -- back tomorrow after I've revisited that one.
A quick break from my Frankenstein coverage to mention my first seasonal food:
That's right: bottled Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Frappy Thing. I'm not a huge PSL fan (though I love most of the pumpkin spice things), so I didn't know how much I'd like this one going in.
I've tried all the bottled Frappy Thing flavors before (there are a lot: coffee, mocha, s'mores, coconut, mint, caramel, and my favorite, vanilla) and they're all similar: a sweet, pricey treat. It's always a tasty caffeine delivery system, and this one is no exception.
This one, as you might guess, has no actual pumpkin in it, but the spices are prevalent in the mix. I'm aware this might sound like heresy to my coffee people, but I'm not sure I can tell the difference between this Frappy Thing and a nice cold chai latte.
Like the PSL, this one seems to have flown off shelves quickly (I bought mine two days ago and went back for another today, and they were alllllll gone). If you see one and want to spend $3, it's worth your money and stomach space.
Here's the first film adaptation of Frankenstein, from 1910. Film was still in its infancy (a lot of people credit this as the first-ever horror film), and it shows in this production: there are no close-ups or matched shots. There's rudimentary editing (cutting back and forth as Frankenstein watches the creature form), but little else in the way of craft.
However, there is one thing I truly loved about this film. The novel special effect of burning something all the way down, then running the film backwards, so it seems to magically form out of nothing, is still surprising and inspiring. It's a neat piece of movie magic.
The acting, as you might expect, is so big and stagey that there's no room for any nuance or humanity. But that's okay, since the movie throws out almost everything I liked about the novel. It's a simple boy-loves-girl, boy-creates-monster, monster-threatens-girl, love-destroys-monster story in this version. The movie's lack of interest in science leads us to believe that the Creature appears almost organically, from a magic brew. Then Frankenstein himself overcomes his evil temptations and the Creature literally melts away from reality. (It's almost a religious allegory, though not one with the depth or humanity that the original novel has.)
Mary (Godwin) Shelley first published her novel Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus in 1818, though her name wasn't attached until a later edition (upon which, predictably, reviewers criticized the writing as feminine, as if that's such a bad thing).
The first edition was longer, less melodramatic, and much more pro-science than later editions, and is more philosophical than we might expect. The book spends a lot of time telling us how Victor Frankenstein learned science, and some little time on his rigorous experimentation. The middle section of the book is nearly completely taken up by the Creature's viewpoint, as he fluently articulates his own learning process, his hopes and dreams and humanity. The Creature in this book isn't Karloff's simple, childlike hulk, though he may wish he could have those simple pleasures. This Creature is literate, cunning, human, and deeply sad.
Shelley's introduction sketches out her creative process (as you probably know, the novel began life as a friendly challenge to tell a scary story) and her modest goals: to entertain (she decries the boring contemporary novel), and to remind people it's good to have friends ("the exhibition of the amiableness of domestic affection" is how she puts it). And that might sound like a silly premise for a horror novel, even if you're writing the first horror novel ever. But it's true: the elaborate framing device is powered by a man's loneliness, and the Creature's evil is caused, he tells us, since he can never know true companionship.
Victor's scientific breakthroughs come at the expense of his relationships: he stops talking to his family and friends for weeks, months, years. Shelley's friends gave up on their stories as soon as the sun came out and they felt like going outside to hang, but she stuck it out and wrote this novel. And, to make a mountain of a molehill, even I, your devoted blogger, am sitting next to my sleeping wife, tapping this out rather than throwing my arm over her and dreaming together, since I'm driven to write this.
People want to create, to leave lasting impressions. But, as Victor finds out, careless half-assery leads to bad children (the Creature also blames his evil ways on Victor's shocked abandonment of him) and unintended consequences. (At least my half-assed blogging probably won't cause the death of everyone I've ever loved, so I'm one-up on the good doctor there). At the risk of sounding like a ridiculous cliche new-age crystal-waver, the secret is in balance. My schedule's tight, but I can read books and write about them and talk with my friends and sleep next to my wife too.
I listened to a free audio version of the original text, read by Cori Samuel. If you have eight hours, I'd highly recommend that you do the same. Her sensitive, no-frills delivery of the story was the perfect voice. Of course, you can always buy a paper edition instead:
We don't really know specific dates, but this summer marked the 200th anniversary of Mary Godwin (later Mary Shelley) first creating science fiction and horror as we know them, in the form of Frankenstein. The first version of the book was published in subsequent years, and then underwent constant transformation in its text, meaning, and unstoppable adaptation. I'm going to experience a lot of the best Frankenstein-related media ever, and have decided to start the blogging with a quick mention of the show that inspired me to do so.
I came into this show completely fresh, knowing only basic cultural-osmosis stuff about the story and its creation, so I really appreciated the deep dive into both Godwin's influences and creative process, and the science inherent in the story. I always like it when knowledgeable people discuss their field of inquiry as it appears in art. Hearing a biologist discuss exactly how impossible the reanimation process would be was great fun for me.
The panelists also pointed out that the original text of the book was much more pro-science, so that's the version I'll be reading soon, and presumably blogging about soon thereafter.
Finally, my favorite spooky TV goth, Noel Fielding, had the chance to discuss science, magic, and monsters, and tell a few off-color jokes.
If you have any interest in science or horror at all, the radio show is well worth a listen. The show-specific link up there will (as of this writing, at least -- I can't say how long it will be available) let you listen to the edited radio version, a tight 30 minutes. BUT! They also release an extended podcast, with at least 50% more goodness, and that's what I recommend. You can (as of this writing) get the extended podcast version on iTunes here, or listen at this link.
