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Dead by Dawn Fest 2019

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By Guest Contributor Marc Lissenburg

The biggest accolade I can give the Dead By Dawn International Film Festival is the fact my continued attendance ensures I devour every delectable morsel projected onto the silver screen. Annually, without fail, darkly feverish cinematic delicacies are chosen with unbridled passion and scheduled with logical precision. If you can in any way relate to that concept, for 4 days in April, The Filmhouse on Lothian Road, Edinburgh becomes a horror fans’ Mecca!

2019 incredibly witnessed Dead by Dawn in its 26th year. With assured quality to match its longevity, what sights did festival director Adele Hartley have to show us….?

THURSDAY

Along with 19 programmes showcasing a staggering total of 66 films, guest of honour this year was the subversively masterful American director, Jeff Lieberman. Modestly claiming that, after John Landis last year, having a guest with the same initials was easier on the DbD email filing system, Jeff was invited to the stage to officially launch the event. 

With the festival boasting 5 of Lieberman’s finest flicks, there were plenty of opportunities to listen to his charming anecdotes, some of which even managed to refrain from mentioning LSD! Jeff explained that his love for cinema began in the 1950s when gorging on the plethora of atomic horror flicks that were essentially inspired by nuclear war propaganda peddled by the US Government. When the 1970s rolled round and atomic bombs were replaced by misinformation regarding the effects of Lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD) on the human brain, it appeared a cynically obvious choice to conjure a yarn that exploited this fear to violent extremes.   

Fittingly, the inaugural film was a personal favourite of mine, 1978’s BLUE SUNSHINE. The story about the belated side effects of a menacingly potent strain of LSD transforming dabblers into murderous follicularly-challenged psychopaths exudes 1970s panache and satire.    

(I discuss Jeff Lieberman a little more when relaying a discussion I had with a lovely lady of Latvian heritage if my memory serves me correct who I ‘purely by chance’ bumped into during one of the sensibly placed festival intermissions…) 

But for now, back to Thursday evening’s proceedings and next up was the ‘One Big Happy Family’ selection of short films. Of the five films featured, it was MAGGIE MAY by director Mia Kate Russell from Australia that really resonated. It’s a tale of female siblings who deal with the passing of their mother in very different ways which results in accentuated languor in its purest and most vicious form.

My journey north of the border had started to take its toll at this point, so it was interesting to note that Dennison Ramalho’s THE NIGHTSHIFTER was scheduled for 1.15am, resulting in an eye burning finish just after 3am.  Adele’s fervent prologue regarding the film went on to explain that the reason for such an uncompromising time slot was due to its ‘injury time’ inclusion after the schedule had effectively been agreed.

If our empress of ceremonies’ words stoked my interest, it is fair to say my heavy eye lids were truly obliterated with the opening frames of this Brazilian masterpiece. Sao Paulo’s finest marching powder couldn’t have done a better job –  basically, I woke the fuck up and was so appreciative of the efforts put into getting this picture crammed onto an already bustling schedule.

The tale concerned Stenio (Daniel de Oliveira), a morgue worker who engages in a bit of cadaver chatter while going about his nightly duties. While these surreal nocturnal conversations usually just involve the corpses disbelieving their demise or craving revenge, events take on a sinister turn when Stenio actually acts on a bit of advice offered. The fusion of the deceitful domestic milieu, along with a depressingly gritty and plausible backdrop, easily lured me into the narrative. Add to that lashings of autopsy-based gore and the bar of debut features was set astronomically high, to say the least.  A stunning piece of filmmaking and one that I was so grateful to witness on the big screen. The appetite had been whetted and the touch paper lit. An awesome start…

FRIDAY

Friday’s programme kicked off in beautifully bizarre fashion with the ‘What You Make It’ shorts. ARTURO simply blew my mind. It was flagrantly my favourite animated short. This 7-minute oddity from Italy’s Alessandro Bavari, complete with thumping soundtrack, would be the perfect aperitif to Gasper Noes’ CLIMAX in my humble opinion.

Other personal highlights on the programme were Kimmy Gatewood’s morosely comical CONTROL, a 16-minute serving of suicidal preparation that admittedly left a lump in the throat. ALTERNATIVE MATH provided some hilarity with its political correctness on steroids clip about a teacher correctly marking a student down in a test for making basic error go viral.

Another debut feature was to follow in the form of G Patrick Condon’s brain frying INCREDIBLE VIOLENCE. The picture begins with a filmmaker confiding to a friend that he has squandered away the quarter of a million bucks he was granted to finance a movie he was contracted to make. His predicament is compounded by the fact that he has been loaned the money from a law firm. In other words, he is fucked! What follows is a devious tactic to conjure a horror film with no funds.

As the title suggests, this was an arduous watch at times, with some daring sequences graphically depicting torture and humiliation.  The mazy plot as the film progressed was a little perplexing I felt.  However, the sheer boldness of Condon to announce himself as a director to the world with such an audacious piece of cinema shone through and ultimately justified its place on the schedule.  

‘It’s the End of the World’ assortment of mini movies followed after welcoming director Max Isaacson to the festival. His 12-minute apocalyptic chunk of kickass, PIPE, was made all the more enjoyable when hearing tales of 12 year old actress Elizabeth Hunter’s confidence when going for her role as Pup. Max was approachable and it was lovely to see him attend most of the screenings and indulging as a fan not just a guest. Cool jacket too!

Up next was another Lieberman feature, JUST BEFORE DAWN, and the onstage Q & A that complimented it provided more light-hearted but factual insight into his individual style as a film maker. The outdoor sequences seemed death defying at times, though I am not sure the audience was entirely convinced by his claim that, despite being friends with Tobe Hooper, he has never seen The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Mmmmm….

We were then onto something that has intrigued me from the instant I first heard about it – Juuso Laatio and Jukka Vidgren’s HEAVY TRIP. While not in any way a horror movie, this Finnish, Norwegian and Belgium production is one of those films you walk away from the festival telling your friends, “you NEED to see this!”

Initially I felt it was a little too slapstick for my palate, but once the characters and narrative started to ripen, assisted by some razor-sharp dialogue, the movie won me over big time.  It’s a simple enough tale of a Finnish Black Metal band, Impaled Rektum, who have been honing their “Symphonic post-apocalyptic reindeer-grinding Christ-abusing extreme war pagan Fennoscandian metal” skills for 12 years before finally getting their big break at the biggest music festival in Norway.  Unfortunately dealing with sleazy promoters and having a vocalist who projectile vomits when faced with an audience hinders their evolution!

The high tempo of jokes and storyline fuelled with the energy of Scandinavian metal (helped along by Filmhouse’s state of the art sound system) made this perfect Friday night viewing.

The risk of missing something distinctively twisted and beautiful meant I fuelled myself with caffeine and reserved those elegant pint glasses of ice cold exuberantly priced Erdinger Weissbier for post-screening bonding with fellow attendees. So tonight, with a sensible finish time of just after 1am and the bar still open for a couple of hours, the perfect opportunity presented itself to clink glasses with friends old and new and discuss personal highlights so far. Cheers…!

SATURDAY

Saturday began with more high calibre and diverse shorts by way of the ‘Natural Selection’ film programme. Personal highlights were Alex Noyer’s beautifully crafted and vicious CONDUCTOR whose 7-minute tale involving a music competition with an ominously violent climax really impressed.  And special mention has to go to TJ Power’s YOUR CALL IS IMPORTANT TO US. It is a genius slice of call centre hell that not only culminates in a ludicrously extreme finale, but also managed to extort my sincerest sympathies for the initially abhorrent victim’s torment!

The subsequent film earned my vote for ‘Best Feature’ and this opinion was apparently shared by other attendees, as it walked away with the prestigious Audience Award chainsaw for that category.  TOUS LES DIEUX DI CIEL (All the Gods in the Sky) started life as a short film in the form of award winning short UN CIEL BLEU PRESQUE PARFAIT (A Nearly Perfect Blue Sky). 

Rather than simply expanding the original yarn by process of extension, enigmatic director Quarxx has literally taken the original short movie, diced it up and used the originally filmed scenes as pillars for a mesmerizing panorama to be built around.

Apart from learning the movies’ naissance via its introduction, I had no prior clues as to narrative, subject matter or style. I am certain this lack of knowledge was hugely beneficial as this powerfully captivating piece of cinema positively enthralled me for the full 110 minutes.

 Although the imagery was at times extremely outlandish and bizarre, the story had me gripped in reality, with its unique depiction of anxiety driven depression and twisted guardianship. Admittedly distressing at times, Quarxx poetically manages to treat each character with the utmost compassion despite their deplorably bleak plights.

I make no apologies for the vagueness of this summary as I feel the impact of this fascinating piece of cinematic brilliance needs to be encountered with as little preparation as possible in order to experience its full effects. Simply genius.

The ‘2D and Deranged Shorts’ programme that followed provided a rich tapestry of warped animation peppered with sharp wit and surrealism. Pick of the bunch for me was David Barlow-Krelina’s CATERPILLARPLASTY with a premise concerning the concept of society’s fixation on physical flawlessness. The Canadian short proved to be a marvellous blend of weirdly repulsive sequences that, despite their peculiarity, still made a blatantly obvious statement. 

The Saturday agenda of Dead by Dawn is traditionally a monstrous one. Looking at your watch at 21.45hrs with the comfort there is still over 8 hours of weird and wonderful entertainment to gorge on is testament to that.

CUTTERHEAD, the debut feature from Rasmus Kloster Bro, was next on the bill and proved to be a truly gruelling watch at times. It centres on a reporter Rie (Christine Sonderris) who joins the workforce structuring an extension to the underground transport system in Copenhagen.  Initially, the movie plays out as a fly on the wall visual document as it cannily immerses the viewer in the confined setting.  Bereft of natural light, with the intricate processes by the workers shrewdly woven into the dialogue, the style of the movie is astutely authentic.  

What develops is an extremely effectual depiction of claustrophobic catastrophe. The infectious use of sound made all the more potent by accompanying panic stricken scenes of complete darkness. Not content simply to submerge the viewer in the stifled environment, the proverbial mind-fuck of needing blind faith in crisis rescue I found remarkably effective, as our protagonists are faced with the unenviable task of shielding their sanities. I highly recommend this picture and was privileged to be subjected to its full efficacy thanks to the pitch-black theatre.

Fried chicken courtesy of a certain Colonel admittedly provided my evening sustenance for the full four nights. While this gourmet choice may seem somewhat unadventurous, watching the security guy on the door really earn his pennies defending the Colonel’s honour was too irresistible not to enjoy on a nightly basis. How fitting then that a programme of ‘Finger Licking Good’ shorts was next up.

I recently learned that the grand master purveyors of sizzled poultry dropped that particular slogan from their marketing propaganda back in 2011. Apparently it was considered too “food-centric” as the corporation aimed for a more “healthy eating” image.  Ridiculous eh?!! What next? A Disney remake of A SERBIAN FILM just to keep things “nice”? Anyway. I digress…

I am sure my 1970s comrades are familiar with the aforementioned slogan, along with old wives’ tales regarding deep fried rodents being inadvertently served up. But there were no Kentucky Fried Rats in this programme of shorts. Oh no, it was WAY worse than that! Food-related subversive short films featuring foul mouthed psychotic grannies, harmonious hilarity, bizarre TV commercials and a heart-rending tale of a pet bunny were entreatingly diverse. But it was a bowl full of retch inducing acne flavoured retribution in the form of Kate MCoid’s IT’S NOT CUSTARD that tested the old gag reflexes. Despite running at a mere 7 minutes, it still managed to lay the foundations for a grossly effective punch line.  

The Lieberman Late show double bill was soon to be upon us. Interestingly for me, this coincided with the interesting exchange I referred to earlier. You see, despite this being a film festival and not a convention, guest of honour Jeff Lieberman very kindly agreed to sign and pose for selfies with fans for free. He also brought a wonderful array of rare goodies to tempt attendees to cross his palm with silver. 

OK so… some of you may have heard of so-called “pubic triangle” in Edinburgh, duly named due to the trio of strip bars. I admit my thirst got the better of me at one point and no sooner had the head settled on my pint of Tenants that I heard those enticing words..

“You want dance? Just twenty pound….”

“Oh hi. Erm… no I am having a quick drink in-between movies.”

“Look… I do you dance, ten pound…”

“Oh right… well…. you see I would…. but Jeff Lieberman is doing this signing at 11pm. I mean he has some amazing stuff. Like he raided his office or something and brought them over for the festival. Lobby cards, reproduction original posters and a selection of Blu- rays. If you’ve got your own stuff, he’ll willingly sign it for free but anything off his stall is £20. Really unique stuff, so I am kind of saving my cash till then”.

“Jeff who?”

“Lieberman!  Lie-ber-man. You know, he is known as “Lebo” in the industry.  He did SQUIRM and DEAD BEFORE DAWN. You ever heard of that movie BLUE SUNSHINE? Wow you MUST see it. It has this scene right at the beginning. This guy is, like, crooning to this lass at a party and… well I won’t spoil it but there is no gore, no blood, no violence, no nudity but the scene STILL shocks the bejeezus out of me every goddam time! Its sooo cool! “

…sighs.. “Ok, I do you dance for five pound…”

(Smiles knowingly at the camera and winks… fade to black…)

Back at the Filmhouse (via the cash point), and after snatching a wonderful memoir from the Lieberman marketplace, the Late Show featuring SQUIRM and SATAN’s LITTLE HELPER was about to begin. The wonderful introduction by Lebo himself explained the simple inspiration for each movie. For the former, it was how he was haunted by a childhood experience of watching his brother electrocute the soil in order to ascertain worms for a fishing trip. This gross-out memory when later mixed with LSD quite simply gave way to the slithery shocker that that is SQUIRM.

The latter, on the other hand, came to be via observing folk who don gorilla fancy dress outfits feeling it somehow grants them the right to grope female party goers and be a complete and utter dick in general. Henceforth, SATANS LITTLE HELPER was spawned.

The Saturday night programme is where your constitution for late night horror really gets a rigorous workout. But, knowing there is only one day to go was motivation enough for this attendee to endure scorching retinas and see it through to the final credits. 

SUNDAY

I had a decent enough rest given the circumstances, but was still somewhat fatigued as I dragged myself into the bathroom of my humble B & B on Sunday at around 11am. Luckily the good folk who ran it must have realised this and very graciously turned off the hot water for the day. Thanks guys! An ice-cold shower and pint of steaming hot coffee later I was in place for the final day.

The two short film programmes that graced the final day, ‘Splendid Isolation’ and ‘Red in Tooth and Claw’ proved to be another eclectic blend of skewed originality. It was from this collection that the joint winners for “Best Shorts” emerged. Conin brothers Chris (director) and Sam (cinematographer) along with actor Paul Bullion were on hand to introduce their 12-minute film, OSCARS BELL, revealing it was inspired by true events.  The intriguing little film centring on a simple family camping trip really delivers a shockingly eerie climax and is definitely worth tracking down.  

Sharing the Audience Award for Best Short was another British film directed by Jonny Kenton, DEAD BIRDS. Weighing in at 35 minutes, the mix of black comedy and poignancy topped off with some deliciously-framed gore got my nod.

YOU MIGHT BE THE KILLER (Brett Simmons) on the other hand did little to stoke my interest, most likely due to my subjective aversion to so called comedy horror. While that personal stance is often compromised by the sharp ingenuity of certain short films, I struggle to maintain interest with full length productions of that ilk.  This hip Scream-esque reference-laden slasher destroys any notion of plot ambiguity with its very title. The regular “counsellor death count” graphic that peppered the movie with annoying regularity had a hint of a one trick pony to me. It did however rouse my fellow audience throughout and appeared to be generally well received.

The final day had two new features. LUZ, a German production written and directed by Tilman Singer. Introduced as having a ‘fractured narrative”, this relatively short feature of 70 minutes is disorientating and unorthodox, with a distinctly vintage feel without overstating the era. The seemingly dispersed, almost sketch-like sequences eventually converge to skilfully blend the story together in a very clever way. The result was a picture very satisfying and enough to entice this viewer into a revisit for subsequent viewings.

The customary hoot that is ‘Punk Pass the Parcel’ meant a flurry of little black packages looped around the auditorium with gusto! There were no gimmicks here as the little prizes revealed themselves to be a crop of current Arrow Video Blu-ray releases. Impressive.

It was, however, a little disappointing that the time-honoured Shit Film Amnesty only had three entries. Can’t complain, as I didn’t contribute myself, but I already have next year’s donation wrapped in Andrex with a damning verdict ready to be inked!

The festival was sadly nearly at its end. The closing feature, REMOTE CONTROL, was a very fitting way for the final Lieberman feature to screen. The scheduled post screening Q & A gave way to a more informal ‘meet and greet’ in the bar afterwards.

I had no plans to write a review before attending this year’s festival. But there is such a unique spirit to Dead by Dawn that I felt compelled to spread the word. The pure devotion and drive that goes into organising this event is something to behold. I very naively had this vision that festival organisers had filmmakers petitioning them to showcase their wares and therefore being faced with the simple task of cherry-picking what they thought worthy.  How wrong I was!

Digital streaming of movies to miniscule devices continues to promote ‘convenience’ above ‘enchantment’ when it comes to indulging in films.  If that is not enough, the vile terms ‘consumers’ and ‘content providers’ have nauseatingly made it increasingly complex to negotiate a film onto the festival schedule when not dealing directly with the filmmaker.

Dead by Dawn, however, radiates a deep love and respect for the uniquely magical cinema experience which, for me, is nothing short of inspiring.

Adele Hartley, we salute you…

Dead by Dawn Festival runs every April in Edinburgh. For further information, check out the official website: deadbydawn.co.uk

First Reformed (2017)

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By Guest Contributor Matt Harries

In an era where a phrase such as ‘world building’ has entered the lexicon of the expectant cinema-goer, it is all too easy for the brightest lights, most groundbreaking camera work and most stupendous action sequences to steal the hearts and minds of the viewer. Conversely, it seems that all too often the films which make the loudest noises leave the faintest trace, as we watch beautiful people with impossible powers saving the world with almost numbing regularity. In the case of Paul Schrader’s First Reformed, we have a film which asks questions relating to the weightiest of subjects, but does so with what seems like an uncharacteristic subtlety in modern mainstream cinema.

It is unusual for me to discover a film via the score, but that’s how I first came to know of the existence of First Reformed. Lustmord is a name familiar to fans of the Dark Ambient sub-genre and it was via his Bandcamp page that I discovered that the characteristically ominous strains of his work were being used in a soundtrack. This had the effect of imbuing the film with a sense of dread and anticipation before I even knew what it was about, as Lustmord has carved out his career as a supreme master of the audial sense of foreboding. His music can also be described as cavernous, oceanic, intense and chilling, so I was instantly expecting something in the realm of a psychological horror. While there are one or two hard-hitting moments which can be described as horrific, what is delivered is far subtler than some typical horror tropes such as the malign supernatural or extra-terrestrial entity. The source of the inauspicious threat is very much part of the zeitgeist, discussed across all platforms on a daily basis; namely, our destruction of the planet.

It is difficult to talk about the nuts and bolts of First Reformed without a nod to the personal history of writer and director Paul Schrader. Perhaps inevitably known as the screenwriter behind Martin Scorcese’s 1976 classic Taxi Driver, Schrader has made it known on several occasions that the medium of screenwriting should be used as an opportunity for catharsis. Indeed, he suggests it is only through the willingness to ‘drop your pants and show your own laundry’ that writers should work in the field. A cursory look into his past reveals that while espousing the ‘self-therapy’ of writing, Schrader himself once suffered a stomach ulcer due to excessive drinking, as well as other turmoils suffered under unsustainable stress. Given these experiences, as well as a self-professed fascination with characters who go against the grain of society and who seem to act against their own best interests, it is clear that the film’s central character Reverend Toller (played by Ethan Hawke) represents to some extent Schrader’s lifetime of interests and experiences as a writer and a man.

Toller is himself a writer, albeit he writes in a journal with no intent of publication or witness by another – other than his Creator. The goal is wholly cathartic – ‘when writing about oneself one should show no mercy’. Although often painful and not without moments self-recrimination, this process of daily confessional is carried out with an ascetic’s rigour. The exercise of withholding nothing becomes increasingly influential in Toller’s journey throughout the film. The events that transpire upon meeting troubled young couple Mary (Amanda Seyfreid) and Michael (Phillip Ettinger), act as a spark to tinder against his increasingly stark mindset of unflinching honesty.

It is heavily pregnant Mary who introduces herself and Michael to Toller. She confides that Michael wishes her to terminate their unborn child. Upon meeting him, Toller learns that the cause of Michael’s despair is the what he sees as the inevitable collapse of human civilisation within his own lifetime, due to the wilful destruction of our natural world for fuel and resource. How, he reasons, can he justify bringing his daughter into a world which faces an inevitable cataclysm of environmental and subsequent societal collapse? Michael strongly questions Toller about the folly of raising a child in a doomed world. Sensing a challenge, the pastor responds with vigour and asserts that Michael’s daughter is ‘as (alive) as a tree. As an endangered species…full of the beauty and mystery of nature. A life without despair is a life without hope,’ he continues. ‘Holding these two ideas in our head is life itself.’

For all Toller’s wise words, in private he continues to act against his own interests in a way which is strikingly reminiscent of Paul Schrader’s struggles as a young writer back in the 70s. His journal writing is accompanied by the nightly drinking of whisky, by the bottle, despite his own escalating ill health. The despair which ultimately proves too much for Michael begins to consume him too, until, seen as an anachronism by the Church’s ruling body and harbouring an increasing sense of indignant rage, he begins to formulate ideas of retribution. Here there is a clear parallel with Schrader’s earlier creation Travis Bickle, memorably portrayed by Robert De Niro. Toller too is a former member of the military, and like Bickle is drawn toward a violent solution to the problems imposed by the world, one that carries the stain of impotent fury and a state of mental fortitude on the brink of collapse. Toller’s actions declare a willingness to stand up and make a mark for the fallen heroes of the struggle against corporations and governments who damage the planet for gain, while also acting as an outward expression of his own changing attitudes. Fuelled by the words of Michael ringing in his ears, as well as the increasing sense of isolation inside his church, he begins to dream of martyrdom.

While it may be easy to see Toller as a cross between Taxi Driver’s Bickle and Michael Douglas’s D-Fens in Falling Down, First Reformed defies being easily categorised alongside those films, specifically by introducing Amanda Seyfreid’s character Mary as a source of compassionate, inclusive energy, one that acts as a counterpoint to the more violently masculine impulses shown by other characters. Despite her own fears and vulnerability, she refuses to condemn Michael for his actions and later on, as she becomes closer to Toller, she introduces a ray of light into his increasingly dark world view.

The film’s final sequence could have gone in one of several directions, with Schrader apparently having written two different endings before settling on the one he did. The chosen ending perhaps suggests love is the mechanism by which the opposing forces of hope and despair are balanced. While this sentiment has a well worn feel to it, it is the power of First Reformed to provoke questions of the viewer that is perhaps its great strength. There is the question of responsibility – of state, of Church and of the individual. Not only toward the natural world, which through greed and apathy faces what many observers agree is a mounting crisis, but crucially toward ourselves. Can we each face our maker, our conscience, or our own sense of morality with absolute honesty? In the light of this fearless honesty we may choose to shine upon our own actions, are we able to recognise a way to balance the light and darkness in ourselves and thus the world? If so we may, like writer Paul Schrader, yet have a say in which way the story goes.

From Terra to Terror: Alien at 40

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By guest contributor Matt Harries

Back in 1979, the late John Hurt almost certainly had no inkling whatsoever of his coming place within cinematic history. In this brief role among many in a storied career, he acted out one of the silver screen’s most iconic deaths. The gruesome demise of Executive Officer Kane of the USCSS Nostromo undoubtedly left an indelible mark upon cinema as a whole, horror cinema in particular and likely anyone who has watched it since. With the release of Ridley Scott’s classic Alien, the arena of macabre storytelling moved into the stellar depths. Space horror was born.

40 years later, and while the number of ‘true’ space horrors remains rather small, mankind’s preoccupation with space exploration remains at the forefront of his greatest ambitions. Indeed now the talk is of returning man and woman to space once again, to the moon and eventually, beyond. The International Space Station has been in low orbit around the earth since 2000. Ever more we are looking toward the goal of expanding the human frontier. The likes of Elon Musk, all ambition, passion and undefinable otherness, think big and talk big regarding the possibilities of space exploration. Our farthest travelled spacecraft, Voyager 1, was launched just before Alien, in 1977. In the intervening years it has travelled some 13 billion miles into space – only human imagination has taken us further. For is it not upon the paths our most far fetched imaginings describe that the dreams of science are eventually realised?

Regarded from space, the earth stands out like an exotic jewel. Its colours of blue and green, swirling whites and greys, its stark, arid browns and yellows; together these colours speak the language of biological life, and as denizens of the earth it is our language, the language of our blood and of our bones. Our earth, rarest of gems among the cold stars, an impossible multitude of distant, scattered diamonds. The locus of our particular species, all we are; contained within a sphere that floats amidst an immensity so boundless we can only reach for it conceptually.

At times here on earth we see our world as both vast and crowded, beautiful and mundane, barren and verdant. Stunningly alive and at the same time, slowly dying. When we look back at from space, whether from a photograph taken on the surface of the moon, or an image beamed from a distant satellite, we are struck by a keen sense of our world’s relative insignificance, its rarity and fragility. It is surely a wonder we should ever dream of leaving.

We are often told by certain spiritualists that there is no true separation between ourselves and the universe. Yet who can truly suppose to know such a truth, to know it in their bones? The idea that we are one with faraway Pluto, with Saturn and its ringlets of ice and rock, with the vast swirling gaseous storms of Jupiter – yet alone with the unmapped, unknown and unseen that exists beyond our reckoning – this seems an almost counter-intuitive leap of the imagination. On the other hand, as we are creatures of the tides and forests and the soil; we feel this as an indivisible part of our connection with the world. Yet humanity greedily dreams of a life away from Mother Earth, away from the source of our physical bodies, the cradle of life. How can it be that we feel somehow constrained here on this planet? How is it not enough to simply remain here, embracing our fate and the earth’s as one and the same? One thing that is certain is that we have been dreaming of travelling beyond our solar system and expressing this desire through our imaginations, for uncounted generations.

In 2019 we seem, perhaps more than ever before, to be living in the shadow of imminent dystopic predictions. Climate change, global economic instability, famine, war, mass migration. The sixth extinction. The Anthropocene era. These are some of the pressures that, as described by many a science fiction yarn, will eventually drive humanity forward on its quest to leave the earth and populate the solar system and beyond. While visionaries such as Musk bend their considerable intellect and wealth upon this goal, imbuing their efforts with a narrative of humankind’s growth, expansion and achievement, science fiction continues to offer an altogether more cautionary parallel narrative. One that seeks to examine the implications of what happens when we reach beyond the protection of Gaia, placing ourselves into the very maw of a godless, sometimes malicious, universe.

Reclassified as a distinct entity by virtue of its extraterrestrial setting, fundamentally space horror is a cinema defined by location; usually a vast spacecraft capable of interstellar travel. The action may move at times on to a planetary body or perhaps into the void of space itself, but is aboard these vessels where much of space horror’s defining tropes take their dreadful shape. The quintessential mother ship, whether the Nostromo in Alien, the Event Horizon, or the Elysium in Pandorum, is at turns labyrinthine, vast, monolithic and claustrophobic. Both sanctuary and tomb. Nothing reinforces mankind’s precariousness quite like the voyages that take us into deep space, for the invisible cord that connects all living things on earth is stretched thinner and thinner, until it no longer tethers. Beyond the reach of human agency, these often sentient world-structures designed by man can take on sinister new aspects, as if they no longer need to obey the whims of the small fleshy creatures who walk their tunnels.

In Alien, the ship’s computer, MU/TH/UR was always aligned with the mission of Ash, the rogue science officer played by Ian Holm, for whom preservation of the xenomorph sample was the prime objective. In Event Horizon, the eponymous ship ‘returns’ from travels beyond human reckoning with what seems to be the intention to journey back to this realm of ‘pure chaos’ carrying a fresh human cargo. In Pandorum, the Elysium, over the course of its massively elongated mission lifespan, becomes far less a haven than a miniature hell, within which humanity mutates into something altogether monstrous.

Whether it is the spacecrafts that are our homes, the artificial intelligences designed to protect us and act in our best interests, or, various memorable turns such as Sam Neill’s maniacal leading scientist Dr William Weir or Guy Pierce’s billionaire entrepreneur of the Alien mythology; humanity’s intentions in space horror are rarely reflected in the outcomes of our actions. The examples of the failure of human intention are many and varied. Time and again, we confidently assert our might against the barely understood horrors of the universe. Our strongest warriors are defeated by the savage defiance of unearthly creatures. Our most advanced technologies are rendered unusable or unsuitable, their purpose and function usurped. Our greed for material wealth, for advantage in warfare or empire building – how swiftly these ambitions, that are unchecked upon our own terms, leave us hapless as mice before the hawk when we stray too far.

Perhaps our greatest strength as a species is our sheer curiosity, our hunger to fathom the darkest depths and overcome what seem like the boundaries of our condition. To ceaselessly redefine them, moving beyond them and integrating them into our sense of who we are. To make clear who we must become if we are to move beyond our status quo. Mankind, the restless wanderer, whose desires and dreams are too great to let his very home in the universe confine him. Where will this ceaseless pushing get us in the end? In 1979 Ridley Scott’s Alien demonstrated that for all we believe ourselves equipped to tackle the challenges of deep space – for all the crew’s good intentions, or the guile and hunger behind the secret will that drives the true mission of the Nostromo – we are simply another creature wandering unawares, among unknown stars haunted by the unseen and unimagined forces of the universe.

In 1639 John Clarke, the headmaster of a Lincoln Grammar school, noted in his collection of proverbs Paroemiologia anglolatina, that ‘he that pryeth into every cloud may be struck by a thunderbolt.’ Perhaps though, it is fitting we leave the final word to one of the film’s taglines, quoting Science Officer Ash;

“The perfect organism. Its structural perfection is matched only by its hostility…its purity. A survivor – unclouded by conscience, remorse, or delusions of morality.” …Is there room enough in space for us and it?

Stairway to Hell: The Exorcist

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By special guest contributor Marc Lissenburg

“What’s the scariest film you’ve ever seen?” It’s a query I am faced with on an alarmingly regular basis when folk learn of my fervent horror movie fanaticism. Despite the somewhat tedious probing, my enthused and instantaneous retort each time is – “THE EXORCIST!”

Now I accept one man’s ‘classic’ (Kermode) is another man’s ‘crap’ (LaVey) and, as such, have no intention of reigniting that particular debate with this article. I will, however, afford myself a little subjective self indulgence simply to convey the motivation for penning this piece.

I first watched The Exorcist aged 14, a couple of years before it was withdrawn from UK home video circulation after being refused an 18 certificate under the 1984 Video Recordings Act. Its esteemed director, William Friedkin, has been forthright in claiming he intended the film to be an “emotional experience”. That concise précis perfectly describes my personal attachment to the picture, for numerous reasons. You see, up until viewing The Exorcist, my horror edification had largely been through gore-tinted glasses as I indulged in Video Nasty culture on VHS. But just a few minutes into Friedkin’s masterpiece, I was overcome with the sense I was watching a ‘serious horror film’.

My inaugural viewing as a teenager enticed me to understandably bask in the tremendously profane blasphemy on offer. Along with this, the notion that an innocent 12 year old girl being used as a mere vessel by Pazuzu implied possession could happen to anyone. The concept sent shrills down my pubescent spine. Then there was my ill-fated Catholic upbringing. The obnoxious nurturing ultimately accelerated my journey toward Satanic freedom, or at the very least, “faithless slime” as Regan so eloquently put it. Either way, it undoubtedly increased the potency of the movie’s vital religious element.

But it was the film’s location of Georgetown that fascinated me. Having family that reside in Washington DC, it seemed sacrilege not to make the unholy pilgrimage t0 the landmarks immortalised in Friedkin’s menacing picture. 31 years after my initial viewing, I finally trekked over the Potomac Bridge to what I consider the Mecca of horror locations….

Having a cousin that graduated in Georgetown as a personal tour guide certainly helped. I was in awe of her intricate knowledge of the area, yet openly chastised her for never watching the movie itself. The first thing that struck me about the district situated in the Northwest of Washington DC was an enthralling sense of historic charisma. Cobbled sidewalks complemented by processions of thriving trees dwelled harmoniously among antique constructions. The meld offered a unique balance of homely neighbourhood and enigmatic tradition.

Before long, the almost regal facade of the Georgetown University Campus stood proudly before me. Its Georgian brick architecture and proud steeple seemed to radiate a sense of history. Originally a Jesuit private university when founded in 1789, the structural design has remained intact despite the proud evolution of the buildings’ function. The campus site is of course briefly featured in the ‘movie within the movie’ sequence that serves to establish Chris MacNeil and Burke Denning’s characters and relationship. The liberal grassy zones in front of the eminent structure were now patently evident, as opposed to being crowded with the ‘demonstrating public’ in the movies preliminaries.

The main arched entrance exemplified the grandiosity of the building by appearing to swell in size as I approached it. A scaling stone stairway ushered me to the inspiring Georgetown Seal mosaic floor motif which sat before the double door entrance.

Although not featured in the movie, the mythical significance of the design is such I felt it was worth mentioning. You see, legend has it that if you set foot on the seal, you will not graduate in 4 years’ time. Despite this alleged myth being completely irrelevant to a tourist such as me, something made me respectfully sidestep the section as I entered the illustrious building. This act, I was assured, is replicated by the mass of students who onerously side-step the design, even during rush hour!

A dissecting walk through the impressive Healy Hall led us to the tranquil setting that is known as the Dahlgren Quadrangle. Before us stood the Dahlgren Chapel of the Sacred Heart. Crowned on the University’s website as the “spiritual heart of the Georgetown community”, the Catholic chapel is in fact a century younger then the Campus that encircles it.

Despite ‘St Mikes’ (the place of worship’s appellation in the film) only being afforded a few seconds of screen time, I found its exterior instantly recognisable. Made up of lustrous brickwork housing the Celtic styled window arch that leads toward the solitary bell and crucifix at its summit, the location remains identical to its depiction on celluloid 44 years previously.

Despite the overtly sanctified status of the edifice, I was saturated with blasphemous cravings when I entered the vestibule. I couldn’t refrain from polluting the serene atmosphere with a puerile demonically whispered “it burns” as I placed my hand in the font of ‘holy water’, much to the embarrassment of my younger, yet considerably more mature cousin. Then I caught sight of the pristine foliage meticulously positioned either side of the altar. It evoked that shocking scene whereby a priest’s attempt to carry out his duty of placing flowers at the chapel’s centre is infamously interrupted by the odious desecration of a holy statue.

The somewhat garish 1970s chic of the chapel’s interior in the movies’ scenes where Father Karris conducts a Catholic mass, gives way to more traditionally serene surroundings in the present day. Absent is the crimson carpet that flowed toward the altar for example. The arched designs carved into wood took on a near luminescent glow behind the troubled priest in the film. Today however, possibly due to a few conservative coats of varnish, the wood takes on a darker, more subtle guise.

Just above these carved designs are a quintuple of stained glass windows. We only get a teasing glimpse showing the bottom edges of the in the movie’s aforesaid church scenes. It is very evident, though, that the embellished glasswork predictably remains respectfully identical today. Resisting Pazuzu’s attempts to guide my hand in the act of writing some profane demonic quote in the Chapel Book of Prayer Intentions, we took the short stroll to 3600 Prospect Street.

Obviously this is the property frequently referred to as the “Exorcist House” due to its portrayal as the MacNeil residence in the movie. The distinctive black metal railings that separated the property from the sidewalk have been predictably forfeited in favour of a solid wood privacy fence, no doubt due to pesky groupies such as myself. By some good fortune however, the large solid wood gates were generously left open on the afternoon of our visit granting us the voyeuristic delicacy of being able to ogle the house’s fascia. The ajar front door conjured images of Karl carrying a comatose and blanketed Regan from the 1972 Mercedes 280SE into the house. While ingesting the honour of being confronted with the most iconic residence in horror history, visions of Regan saying goodbye to Father Dyer in the movies closing scenes washed over me. What enriched the experience was just how similar the site appeared. There was simply no need to decipher our location. Bar the aforementioned fencing, everything was seemingly unaffected by the claws of time. Even the duet of lamp posts, both capped with metallic flying birds, remained proudly guarding the house’s entrance. There was of course one last site to behold on our tour of terror – The legendary “Exorcist M Street steps” themselves…

Watching the movie again recently, it’s notable just how little screen time the unwittingly sinister set of steps is given. The fatal climactic plummet of Father Karris naturally imbued them with notoriety. But it’s two other wonderfully photographed scenes that put the landmark in the limelight. Firstly, there is Lieutenant Kinderman’s inquisitive ascending gaze as he ponders Burke Denning’s ungodly demise. Then in the film’s closing frames, we witness Father Dyer’s solemn and regretful look downward.

The concrete staircase is offset from the house and it’s a renowned fact that an extension was temporarily built onto 3600 Prospect Street to give the impression that Regan’s bedroom indeed lingered above the 75 steps. Surveying the palpably steep descent from the landmark’s apex, I was instantly struck with just how impressive the stuntman’s plunge was, considering the precipitous concrete was only mitigated by a mere half inch of rubber at the time of filming.

I cautiously negotiated the flight of steps ensuring I suffered no such fate as the collared protagonist. The landmark was officially made a tourist attraction in a Halloween ceremony attended by creators William Peter Blatty and William Friedkin in 2015, an honour confirmed by the handsome plaque on the wall at the base.

Scrutinizing scenes in the film where the stairwell featured, I noticed the scarlet word “PIGS” apparently sprayed onto the wall just over the stairs railings. This had now been replaced by unreadable blue graffiti. The same ‘artist’ had seemingly added the obligatory “Fuck Trump” protest to the tourist attraction! The climb upward obviously proved more arduous, and after a few circuits causing my leg muscles to smoulder, I knew it was time to bid farewell. I did however manage to persuade my cousin to capture me in “Karris pose” laying face down on the pavement at the stairs base.

I was previously a bit torn about horror locations. For every Oakley Court there is a site that has been renovated to the point of it being completely unrecognisable from the movie it originally featured in. But my Georgetown experience has certainly given me the bug. Next stop, southern Germany for all things Suspiria….!

Folk Horror: Weird Wales

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By Nia Edwards-Behi and Keri O’Shea

Keri: When Universal Pictures set about cementing the developing horror genre with a series of tales – both old and embellished – the small country of Wales, in the United Kingdom, was oddly integral to this process. The ‘Old Dark House’ (1932) was set in deepest, darkest Wales, the rain lashing, forcing the house’s inmates to stay put until escape was possible; The Wolf Man (1941), which spawned a new horror archetype, silver bullets and all, saw its central character get ‘the bite’ in Wales, before running amok through its landscapes. Why was Wales, a country which has – let’s be fair – struggled to gain recognition as a country in its own right, chosen as the backdrop for these American productions? Was it just remote enough to serve a purpose?

It’s because, I’d argue, it’s a landscape which is just on the border between modern and predictable and the somehow strange, unknown. It’s part of the United Kingdom, one of the wealthiest union of countries in the world, and it’s predominantly English-speaking, whether first or second language, but it’s still an outlier, a mystery, home to an ancient language, a country with a rich tradition of cultural practices which are distinct from those of its neighbours. The presence and promotion of the Welsh language (Cymraeg) still seems to be a source of discomfort to many (often monoglot English) commentators. Just a couple of weeks ago, a debate on bilingual schooling in Wales gave rise to many angry and baffled voices which could not countenance Welsh as a medium, despite there never being any indication that the lingua franca of English was being replaced. Somehow, having a parallel language on the doorstep is seen as worrisome and negative.

Wales also has a history of social protest and insurrection, which perhaps has some perhaps troubling pagan overtones – maybe prompting the question – how well does one know one’s neighbours? Welsh protest moments are, by any accounts, a strange phenomenon. The ‘Scotch Cattle’ of the early 1800s blended theatricality with real menace. Consisting of groups of men unhappy with their treatment at the hands of bosses or colleagues, they would gather at night for what were called ‘midnight terrors’, often wearing animal skins, blackened faces, with some blowing horns and many bellowing like cattle. This was intended to intimidate, and no doubt, it worked. The Cattle would damage property and machinery if they felt it was necessary to their aims, and they sent dramatic warnings to their peers – often written in animal’s blood. A message left as a warning to blacklegs (strike-breakers) stated, after naming the men responsible, “we are determined to draw the hearts out of all the men above named, and fix two of the hearts upon the horns of the Bull…we know them all. So we testify with our blood.”

The so-called Rebecca’s Daughters also challenged the social order in a theatrical manner, this time wrecking and burning the tollgates designed to generate income on Welsh roads, at the expense of many of the poorest in society. Dressing as women, led by a ringleader – ‘Rebecca’ – these men turned their actions into something of a dramatic performance, complete with a script. Surely, on some level this kind of history fed into the film Darklands (1996), albeit the film chose to explore cult consciousness rather than straightforward protest. Even the name, ‘Darklands’, corresponds with the so-named ‘Black Domain’ in South Wales, where many of the protest movements mentioned above took place, and in this film the amassed strangers with their rituals seem to call to that strand of Welsh history.

There are other historical practices in Wales that seem to call to a pagan past: the ceffyl pren (‘wooden horse’) was yet another way to bring down the wrath of the community upon any transgressors – by literally affixing them to a wooden frame in some cases, or more often, publically burning an effigy of them. Then, there’s the Mari Lwyd, a (frankly terrifying) midwinter practice where a shrouded horse skull is carried door to door by a bearer and a band of performers, where, to gain entrance into the homes they visit, a singing competition takes place. Whilst well-intentioned (and similar practices take place in other parts of Northern Europe) this is one vision which definitely has as much potential to scare as to entertain. Even if you expect to see a seven-foot bipedal horse creature at the door, it’s bound to be a bit of a shock. On occasion, by the way, this particular tradition still takes place at Christmas in Wales.

A historically strong sense of community, a sense of justice that can sometimes lash out at others and a love of shocking theatricality: these are things that seem to unite the Welsh throughout documented history, and they are also key components in many seminal folk horror films. So why, then, have there been so few Welsh horror films since the country’s name was invoked by Universal in the early decades of the twentieth century – much less folk horrors? Sure, the ‘Celtic Revival’ of the late nineteenth century no doubt helped to stop lots of the old practices and customs from slipping away entirely, but even aside from any historical precedents, there’s an absolute wealth of Welsh folklore which has yet to see the light of day.

The Mabinogion and New Welsh Folk tales

Nia: Wales’ most famous myths, The Mabinogion, have been the basis for a number of other, usually fantasy, works of art over the years, even including a South Korean MMORPG. The Mabinogion are a wide series of tales, written first in the 11th or 12th century and drawing upon the oral tradition of storytelling from much, much earlier. The tales are arranged into four ‘branches’, with characters appearing in various stories and the histories intertwining. The Mabinogion are the earliest examples of prose recorded in the literature of Britain, so to say that they are ‘folk’ is to under-state things.

It seems quite strange that while Wales has managed to take advantage of the whole Scandi-noir thing with its own take on the subgenre, TV series Y Gwyll/Hinterland, that we’ve yet to take advantage of Game of Thrones fever with a venture into the Mabinogi. While these tales are most obviously suited to the fantasy genre, there are some truly horrific elements to them that are absolutely ripe for the picking, either in direct adaptation or in more imaginative modern interpretations. There have been plenty of literary re-imaginings of The Mabinogion, such as the ‘New Stories from the Mabinogion’ series by Seren Books, but we’ve yet to see (to my knowledge) something like this taking place on screen, and certainly not the big screen. Perhaps the most famous tale of all, that of Branwen, features, in its climactic battle, a hideous construction, namely y pair dadeni, or the resurrection cauldron. That’s right, on a battlefield in Ireland, dead soldiers are flung into a cauldron and revived…where’s the medieval battle zombies film version of that?!

Branwen might be primarily tragic romantic history, but there are some profoundly horrific elements to it that would make for riveting – and entertaining – viewing. Likewise, there is some phenomenal body horror in characters such  as Blodeuwedd, a woman created from flowers, a character whose ultimate fate some may vaguely know via Alan Garner’s The Owl Service and the subsequent television series. Blodeuwedd is the most famous example, but there are many other transfigurations from man to beast, such as the brothers turned into mating pairs of animals for three years by their vengeful uncle. Cripes.

It’s been refreshing, then, that the best examples of recent Welsh genre filmmaking have drawn on notions of folk, while not relying on the Welsh mythological tradition. Perhaps indeed it’s because of the familiarity of tales like those of The Mabinogion that they’ve been avoided for so long, even in adaptation. The benefit of that is that when rare Welsh (and I mean culturally Welsh, you know, not just made in Wales) genre films come along they tend to be imaginative and interesting for it.

Director Chris Crow has a track record for imbuing his filmmaking with a sense of history and his most recent feature, The Lighthouse, is a really magnificent example of what can be achieved with notions of folk. By no means a traditional folk horror film, The Lighthouse draws on a singular moment in Welsh history and enlivens it with a tremendous sense of time, place and identity. The two men, trapped in the lighthouse in question, could well represent a rather traditional idea of the Welsh psyche befitting its period setting – God-fearing and self-loathing. Another recent example is Yr Ymadawiad (The Passing), a Welsh-language film which very strongly draws on Welsh history and landscape in such a wonderful way that to say too much rather spoils the film.

If there’s one thing to be said for these films, as much as I like them, it’s that they’re rather coy about the horror elements, and while I’m all for pushing genre boundaries, I’m also very much for witches and magic and creatures and otherworlds. It’s given me quite a thrill to see the project Cadi, formerly known as Gwrach (that’s ‘witch’ in Welsh), selected for this year’s round of Cinematic productions, the scheme that also brought us The Lighthouse. There’s scant detail so far, as expected of a film in pre-production, but it’s set in the present day, so I’m certainly excited. As genre productions in Wales seem to be on the rise, I can only hope that soon we’ll be turning to our mythology for some more horrific inspiration.

Film Review: Sexual Labyrinth (2017)

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‘A passionate tribute to the cinema of Fulci’? It’s words like these which act like bait to writers like us, so when this statement was attached to the press release of a new film, Sexual Labyrinth, my curiosity was piqued. That the press release also mentioned paying homage to Joe D’Amato (ah yes, he) and Luigi Atomico (no idea) only made me wonder more what the film could possibly have in store. Well, spoiler alert: this ‘vision of female sexuality’, again words used in the press release, has nothing whatsoever to do with Fulci that I can see, from his early sex comedies all the way through to his horrors. Nada. Joe D’Amato? Not an expert on his stuff, though I’ve seen a few D’Amato films, and I suppose the rough-shod human flesh on display throughout wouldn’t have looked too amiss in some of his work – though I’m not sure that this is particularly ambitious on the current filmmaker’s part, or complimentary on mine. I think the best thing to do here is to say a bit more about what is on offer.

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Special Feature – Ceremonial Celluloid!

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By Marc Lissenburg

Sleep deprivation aside, I prefer a clear head when treating my senses to horror based cinematic pleasures. Conversely, I personally find that my other passion, heavy-as-hell metal, is often better savoured while somewhat imnebriated. With this in mind, I’ve often pondered the curious instances whereby these two leisurely pursuits collide, pitching staunch sobriety against medicated blissfulness.

My disclosing ramble basically alludes to the fun that can be had with trying to identify the sound-bytes of sampled dialogue from our beloved horror genre that are cunningly interwoven into the heaviest music on the planet. This endeavour does have a varying scale of complexity, however. Whereas on one end of the scale, Regan McNeil’s profane howls are the proverbial no-brainer, the other end of the spectrum contains dialogue from flicks whose degree of obscurity make it down right infuriating to identify!

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Remembering Herschell Gordon Lewis, 1929-2016

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By Keri O’Shea & Nia Edwards-Behi

Keri: It’s no great surprise that Herschell Gordon Lewis, pioneer of so many infamous gore and exploitation movies, sustained another life as an advertising guru both before and after the 1960s heyday of his filmmaking career. In a number of ways, his films probably had a similar impact to his direct marketing strategies down through the years. Direct marketing has to land an immediate impact on the potential client, or else it’ll be ignored; it has to stand out against a raft of competition, but if it’s successful, then even a modest hit can pay serious dividends. On the flip side of all that, of course, this kind of tactic can irritate or even infuriate the people on the receiving end, who may not enjoy having their attention diverted by something quite so in-your-face and crass…

For HGL, the parallel must have been clear and intuitive, and so he made the best of both worlds throughout his lengthy career – sometimes landing a hit, sometimes not, but always keen to move on to the next thing, the next possible big break. Perhaps being born right at the start of the Great Depression would have taught him that you just worked at whatever presented itself in order to survive: this he did, and his entry into the shady world of low-budget cinema simply came about because it was the right move at the right time. HGL, by now working with legendary huckster David F. Friedman, first turned his hand to a number of softcore nudism movies (the only way to get that much flesh past the censors in those days) and these made back more than he’d spent; so far, so good, but when this all started to seem a little tame for audiences, HGL decided to move into horror.

Of course, he kept all avenues open, continuing to make sexploitation and even kids’ films during his career, but seeing a gap in the market for shock, Herschell Gordon Lewis’s Blood Feast, released in 1963, is widely-credited with being the first true ‘gore’ movie. Whilst those of us who grew up decades later may be well-used to splatter, indifferent to it even, back in the mid-sixties this was something radical – and, judging by the rise and rise of gore and mondo cinema in this era, people soon had the taste for it. Keen to deliver while the going was good, HGL stuck with the gore and churned out several more titles such as Color Me Blood Red and The Gruesome Twosome. The powers-that-be were, of course, dismayed at all of this censor-baiting, but there’s no such thing as bad publicity when you’re trying to make a living from film.

It is largely thanks to the DVD renaissance of the 1990s and in particular the likes of Something Weird Video, who have made it their business to bring us a whole host of otherwise lost lowbrow movies from the 20th Century, that we can now acknowledge HGL as the ‘Godfather of Gore’. Around half a century since they were made, his gore movies are still gloriously good fun – grisly, inventive, but also wryly humorous and self-aware. It meant that I, years after first seeing a still from The Gore Gore Girls in a copy of The Dark Side magazine, got to see the films in motion – and it turns out, they’re as zany and bold as you’d hope from such titles. If ever you ask yourself ‘Should I be laughing at this?’ whilst watching a HGL movie, then the answer is almost certainly ‘Yes!’: HGL never set out to make Doctor Zhivago, and he wanted us to have fun. And as we do so, we can also take in the ingenuity which delivered special effects clearly far before their time.

It was after a lengthy hiatus of thirty years (!) that Herschell Gordon Lewis, by now a marketing executive again, was tempted back to cinema, releasing a sequel to Blood Feast and making a few cameos in new films made by a new generation of fans. Then, in 2009, it was announced that HGL had made a brand new film of his own – and it would be premiering at Abertoir, Aberystwyth’s yearly horror film festival, with the man himself in attendance. The Uh-Oh Show, a bloodthirsty skit on the reality TV shows which had sprung up as the new face of exploitation during HGL’s absence, was so new at this screening that all the TV screens and monitors in shot were still in green-screen. As for the guest of honour Herschell Gordon Lewis, who did a Q&A after the film, he was everything I’d hoped he’d be: a realist, affable, good-natured and modestly proud of his lengthy career. Ever the pro, when asked by an audience member about what to do if you wanted to sell a film that had languished for years, his advice was straightforward: “Tell them you just wrapped!” It was a real pleasure to hear him speak, and over the next few days of the festival the shine never went off the fact that The Godfather of Gore was just walking around, Mrs Gordon Lewis in tow, happily mingling and chatting with his fans.

HGL had a long, industrious and remarkable life. He saw a lot of changes, and he drove a lot of them too. Without meaning to revolutionise low-budget cinema, he still did it, and the resulting films have lost nothing of their power to entertain during the intervening years. He will be greatly missed, but he will always keep that moniker, ‘The Godfather of Gore’, which he wore so well and with such reserves of natural charm.

HGL with Abertoir director Gaz Bailey, 2009
HGL with Abertoir director Gaz Bailey, 2009

Nia: I have great memories of Herschell Gordon Lewis attending Abertoir Horror Festival in 2009, back when I was only setting out on helping out with the festival after being a dedicated attendee since its beginning in 2006. Lewis was an absolutely charming guest – happy to talk to attendees, sign DVDs and posters, and just generally attend the festival, enjoying the films and events as much as anyone. That year there were old trailers programmed in front of features and naturally several trailers for Lewis’ films were included. I fondly remember being sat near Lewis as he exclaimed at one of the trailers ‘is that really one of mine?!’ I wish I could remember which particular trailer that related to! He gave a talk on his career, a filmmaking masterclass, and it was so full that people were having to stand at the back – and this in small-town Wales! I can only imagine the sorts of home-crowds he could draw. Like so many gore-meisters, in real life Lewis was an absolute delight.

One of my favourite things I’ve read about H G Lewis is in Bill Landis and Michelle Clifford’s book Sleazoid Express, wherein they note that one of the few early, exploitation gore filmmakers to emerge the other side relatively successful and happy was Lewis, having left the filmmaking career behind him for a career in marketing. Even so, it seems obvious that, even though he seemingly left exploitation behind him, he never resented those films nor the people who still enjoy them to this day; indeed, he really revelled in it. He will be sorely missed.

Isn't It Good The Duffer Brothers Didn't Get To Direct Stephen King's It?

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By Ben Bussey

Up until this moment, BAH may have been the only horror-related site to have not published anything on the subject of Stranger Things. Plenty of Netflix original films and TV shows have become talking points, but few if any have made quite the same sensation as this 1980s-set drama which manages to homage countless movies of that era without ever coming off as a direct rip-off of any of them. Series creators Matt and Ross Duffer have worn their influences like band patches on their stonewashed denim jacket sleeves, yet the story they have told has still managed to feel wholly fresh and original.

As such, it’s interesting – though not necessarily too surprising – to learn that things could have been altogether different, as the Duffer Brothers have revealed that the series was born out of their disappointment at being denied the chance to direct a movie adaptation of a story to which Stranger Things clearly owes a significant debt: Stephen King’s It.

Here’s how the brothers break it down to The Hollywood Reporter:

Matt: We asked, and that’s why we ended up doing this, because we’d asked Warner Brothers. I was like, “Please,” and they were like, “No.” This was before [director] Cary Fukunaga. This was a long time ago.

Ross: When we asked to do it was before, then he got on it afterwards because he’s established. So, he got on it and we were excited just because we’re huge fans of what he does, and one of the few people who hasn’t made a bad movie. So, that was exciting to us, but also, we were seeing trailers for True Detective, we’re like, “I kind of want to see. How do you do It in two hours? Even if you’re separating the kids, how do you do that right?” You don’t really fall in love with them the same way you’re going to when I read that book. So, how much more excited would I be if Cary Fukunaga was doing that for HBO or he was doing that for Netflix?

There were a lot of different discussions we were having around this time, and a lot of it centered around how exciting TV was becoming and how cinematic it was. Certainly one of those discussions brought us back to It and how we wish it was an eight- or ten-hour miniseries.

Matt: It’s like, “Could you be truer to the sensibilities of It if you had eight or ten hours?” We thought that you probably could more than if you were confined to two hours. At least that’s how we made ourselves feel better about not getting the movie adaptation. We still would have done it, obviously. I’m really excited about that movie. I think it will be cool.

Fukunaga has since left It, to be replaced by Mama director Andy Muschietti, and we can look forward (hopefully?) to the It movie in 2017. But for our purposes right now – this surely stands as a great an example of any of how not getting what you wish for can prove to be a very good thing.

Other instances come to mind, of course. George Lucas’s inability to secure the film rights to Flash Gordon led him to create his own little story called Star Wars. Steven Spielberg later agreed to direct Raiders of the Lost Ark for Lucas out of his frustration at being turned down to direct a James Bond movie. Sam Raimi couldn’t get the rights to The Shadow, and so instead he made Darkman.

So it is for Matt and Ross Duffer – and so it is that they are now revered not only as excellent screenwriters, directors and showrunners, but as bona fide creators in their own right. And isn’t that a hell of a lot better? Isn’t that what everyone who sets out to make movies and TV really wants – to create something of their very own?

Of course, at the multiplexes we’re seeing less and less of that of late. Almost every new major film that comes along is a sequel or remake of some description – even when, as is often the case, the end results bear little more than a passing resemblance to the earlier material. Fans of the original are invariably wind up incensed if it strays too far or if it adheres too closely to what went before, which begs the question – why not just do something new?

Stranger Things demonstrates that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with taking influence and borrowing liberally from properties you love (and they really did borrow heavily, as this article at Vulture details), so long as you do it right; put the characters first, treat them seriously, and concentrate on telling their story, allowing your reference points to be part of the language of the piece, but not the be-all and end-all.

Put simply – if you haven’t watched Stranger Things, you really should. Trust me, the hype is warranted in this instance.

 

Am I The Only One Not Excited About Blair Witch?

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By Ben Bussey

I don’t mean to be a killjoy, honestly I don’t. However, when I see the bulk of online horror fandom losing their shit over something I just can’t get fired up about, I feel like I need to voice the opposing view. If you’re among the excited ones, then good for you, honestly. But I’m not, and I can’t believe I’m the only one.

Allow me to elaborate.

Blair Witch

Well actually, first of all I should make sure we’re all on the same page. If you’ve been anywhere near any movie news-related sites this weekend, you’ll know we just had the mighty San Diego Comic Con – and while horror news coming out of the event was fairly thin on the ground, there was one pretty massive revelation. We’d known for some time that director Adam Wingard had a new horror movie coming up entitled The Woods; little was known about this beyond the fact that it’s a found footage centred on some young folks who get lost in some woods and are swiftly swept up shit creek, and there were a few accompanying quotes declaring it to be a major event for the genre. The signs may have been there (quite literally, as Brian Collins points out at Birth Movies Death), but it still came as a massive surprise to all of us that The Woods is in fact Blair Witch, a direct sequel to the 1999 smash hit The Blair Witch Project.

Now, I can absolutely understand why this news has got a lot of horror fans frothing at the mouth. Anyway you look at it, The Blair Witch Project was bona fide game changer, and one of the most distinctive, unique horror movies of the last twenty years. That having been said, it’s also long been hugely divisive – and I’ve always been on the naysayer side of that divide. Many people, our own Keri included, went into the film for the first time relatively blind, and were left shaken to the core. As for myself, I made the same mistake that I keep telling myself not to make all these years later: I paid way too much attention to the hype, read far too much about it beforehand, and went in fully expecting to figuratively if not literally shit myself – and was left monumentally underwhelmed. And struggling with motion sickness, but that’s another matter.

And here’s the problem: even before it was revealed that The Woods was in fact Blair Witch, I was getting a sense of deja vu (and I’m not suggesting I guessed what it really was, by the way). All the trailers and pre-publicity for The Blair Witch Project declared in a stark and straight-faced fashion that it was truly THE most terrifying film ever made – and, lo and behold, all the pre-publicity for The Woods/Blair Witch has done exactly the same. Given that, for this horror fan at least, these declarations proved utterly untrue the first time around, surely I can be forgiven for feeling sceptical this time.

Blair Witch 2016

But that’s not even the worst of it. What makes me feel even sadder about Blair Witch is seeing Adam Wingard become a franchise guy. Now, I’m by no means Wingard’s biggest fan (quite enjoyed You’re Next and The Guest, hated his entries in V/H/S and The ABCs of Death, haven’t seen any of his earlier stuff), but I respected that this was a horror filmmaker who was climbing the ladder and making a name for himself off the back of original material of his own creation. Too often we see filmmakers of this calibre relegated to stuff that’s beneath them once they break big: I remain hugely disheartened that Starry Eyes directors Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer are following up that brilliant breakthrough with a sequel to Mama, and even though I have high hopes for Mike Flanagan’s Ouija: Origin of Evil, it still stinks that one of the best horror filmmakers of our time is making a follow-up such a subpar film. Of course, we can’t really accuse Blair Witch of being a quick cash-grab as we might those other sequels, given it’s been almost sixteen years since the last film in the series – 2000’s unforgettably awful Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2 – but it still can’t help but feel like a safe play based around a marketable title. (Side note here: both Wingard and Flanagan have been linked to the in-development Halloween reboot, but to the best of our knowledge nothing’s confirmed there yet. It’ll be interesting to see how that turns out.)

Quite apart from all that… neither the earlier ‘The Woods’ trailer nor the new Blair Witch trailer give me much hope that we have a truly scary movie on our hands, and certainly not one that breaks significant new ground the way the early hype has suggested. It seems clear the film will be considerably more visceral and traditionally horrific than The Blair Witch Project, in which a great deal more will be seen; and I can’t deny a begrudging curiosity about whether or not Wingard which actually reveal the witch herself this time.

Of course, we’ve had a hell of a lot of found footage movies since 1999 (another reason to not hold The Blair Witch Project in the highest regard), and while the vast majority of them have been unspeakably awful, there have been at least a few truly great, truly scary ones – and my gut tells me Blair Witch will borrow heavily from these. The moments that most jump out from the trailer below, (aside from those which point to the original of course) remind me of the most heart-thumping moments from the [REC] movies, and the wince-inducing climax of The Borderlands. Of course, a lot of the wider audience that heads into Blair Witch will be unaware of those films – and call me a cynic, but I can’t help suspecting that Wingard and Lionsgate may be counting on just that.

Please believe me when I say I hope I am proven wrong. Like any sensible person, I hope every new movie I go see will be good. I just can’t get as excited about Blair Witch as so many seem to be, and can’t shake the feeling that the hype will once again prove empty.

Interview: Director Chris Crow & Producer David Lloyd on The Lighthouse

Posted on by Admin

By Nia Edwards-Behi

In cinemas soon, The Lighthouse is Chris Crow’s fourth feature as director, and his second feature collaboration with producer David Lloyd. Following Devil’s Bridge, Panic Button and The Darkest Day, The Lighthouse is a chamber piece, a psychological drama based on a real life event in Welsh maritime history. Chris and David very kindly took some time to answer some questions about the film for us.

(Read Nia’s review of The Lighthouse.)

BAH: So, is Welsh maritime history something that particularly interests you?! Where did the idea to adapt this story come from?

Chris: Very much so, maritime history in general in fact. As a species we’ve been at sea for a long time and I really love the mythology and folk superstition that has grown around it. The Smalls Island tragedy is such an incredible story anyway and the fact that it took place in a period of Welsh history that is in itself really quite fascinating made it a very attractive idea for a film.

When we were shooting Devil’s Bridge, Vern Raye (who produced DB with us) told me the story and I was hooked, we talked about it as a film idea, then on the same shoot Mike Jibson brought it up. We talked about if for years and actually took it in a few directions; Mike tried a more modern ghost story set on the newer (stone) Lighthouse, I actually transplanted it to a space station, then I read about Gravity being in development and thought ‘bugger’. Eventually we all decided that it was pointless in doing anything with it other than telling the actual story.

David: I’d always had an interest in maritime history and culture and first came across this story in a book on the history of Welsh lighthouses, which Chris had bought me as a birthday present many years ago. I’d forgotten about it till it was brought up again as a possible next project, and with that connection it was a given – we had to make this film!

BAH: How much historical material did you actually have to work with in terms of adapting the story?

Chris: Fragments really, bare bones. A lot is lost to history however this particular tragedy did change the way in which Lighthouses were kept (from 2 to 3 men) which in itself is a fairly important shift. I did find some great accounts from other lighthouses from the time (British, American and French) which I used to flesh out the daily grind and routine of the keepers, their tasks, duties etc. What was lovely about tackling the bare bones was that you could fill in the blanks, imagine what happened, extend things.

David: Filling in the blanks meant we could take this somewhere that interested us, beyond a more factual historical retelling. Whilst we tried to remain as faithful to the small amount of information there was about the event, it also meant we could take some major artistic license with the story and fashion the world and events of The Lighthouse to suit our own tastes and ideas.

BAH: The project was funded by Ffilm Cymru Wales’ Cinematic project, chosen as one of three successful projects from many other strong contenders. How did you go about pitching the project?

Chris: I created a wealth of visual materials – mood boards, concept art etc. We also shot a mood reel/teaser, I think that gave the backers a feel for what we wanted to achieve. We were confident that we could achieve a fairly ambitious project on a tiny budget and we were extremely single minded in our pursuit of getting that green light. We’ve got a great relationship with Ffilm Cymru Wales, they’ve been really supportive of us and so it was great to actually fit this film to that particular funding scheme and work with them and the other backers on the film.

David: At all stages of the pitching process we wanted the backers to be able to visualise the look and the feel of the film, to make it feel like a finished and fully realised entity. Chris’ visuals and the mood trailer we submitted along the way went a long way to helping win the backers attention. At one point we made up fake DVD cases and covers to hand to the backers to solidify the idea in their heads. Our previous experience in film making also went a long way to help us answer the tricky questions about how we’d make the production work on our limited means, safe in the knowledge we knew we could do what we were saying.

BAH: Once you had secured funding, what was the process of planning the shoot like?

Chris: It is always relentless – exciting, terrifying at the same time. We had an exceptional crew and so putting everything together was a joy. There was a much bigger set build and CGI element for The Lighthouse than anything I’ve done before so everything really needed to be planned and budgeted for within an inch of its life. We had a fantastic production crew before we brought the HOD’s in too, so there really were months of nailing the approach and balancing the budget to put as much money on screen as possible.

David: Ideally we’d have had another month or two to plan, but given the scale and budget we had to shoot when we did and have it all ready for that. The planning was furious and demanding. The big things fell into place quite quickly, but some smaller elements took a lot longer to bring together, and even with all the planning that was in place, things happened.

Our first day’s shooting location backed-out less than 48 hours before principal photography began. This left us with a real headache and need to reschedule and rearrange so we didn’t lose that valuable first day. Thanks to the team’s work, an alternative plan was quickly made and the day was saved.

Whilst the big things like the studio and set were there and ready
on time, a couple of smaller elements were a real battle that didn’t come together till the very last moment. Given the scale of the production, you would be amazed at the problems securing a small pilot gig and church caused us in comparison!

BAH: Tell us a bit about building the lighthouse set – what an achievement! Were you using the original architectural plans?!

Chris: The lighthouse was based roughly on the original but we had to create something that would also work as a fully functional set. Tim Dickel designed the set and did an incredible job, Wild Creations (recently famous for the rugby ‘Ball In The Wall’ in Cardiff) did an amazing build and they worked closely with the VFX team who created the 3D CGI Lighthouse. We knew that the set had to look 100% authentic, lived in, filthy and claustrophobic but we also had to be able to swing a camera about and light it. They all did an incredible job of that set. I wanted to live in it after we’d wrapped. I even measured up my living room to see if it would fit, sadly it was too big and eventually followed its original counterpart to the big sea in the sky.

David: Whilst they look very similar in their outward appearance, the original and ours had differences that were made out of budgetary necessity and shooting practicality. I think the original was either 8 or 10 sided, but ours was 6 sided, and our internal layout was difference. Given the way the film is shot, you never see the whole layout for any length of time, our six sided one feels as real as the original.

 

BAH: You shot some scenes on location too – where was this?

Chris: We worked closely with Atlantic College with the boat sequences, we shot the Island sequences there, the rowing scenes in Cardiff Bay the Chapel and Tavern just outside Cardiff. The lighthouse was actually built in a warehouse in Splott which we essentially tuned into a sound stage.

David: It was important to keep everything fairly contained in terms of travel. We didn’t have the budget to put up cast and crew at locations so had to be able to travel from base. Luckily for us Cardiff and the Vale of Glamorgan offer everything we needed for the shoot, with stunning exterior locations at Llantwit Major and St Donats, perfectly aged interiors like those we shot at Gileston and Penced House and the unit base right next door to Splott Market, which led to a few interesting noise related moments and the ability to nip out and pick-up a top notch breakfast roll on market days. We were also a 100m from our post house, which meant we could easily go back and fore during the shoot with rushes and rough edits.

BAH: How did you go about casting – you’ve worked with both Jibson and Jones before, did you always have them in mind for these parts?

Chris: Yes, we developed the film with Mike and Mark was perfect for Griffith, PERFECT. Both are incredibly gifted actors, both fantastic character actors. I knew that they’d do a great job and both can grow admirable beards! They were the perfect casting for me, I also love working with them both, we have fun and we collaborate.

David: Both Mike and Mark went above and beyond in their services to this film, their performances are top-notch and I think they were born for these roles. Given the seriousness of the roles, you’d be amazed at the laughs we had during the making of the film.

BAH: How long was the shoot? What was it like working in such as small space? Presumably you had space to manoeuver outside the structure as you built it in a larger space.

Chris: It was a 4-week shoot, but we really could have done with 6. It was claustrophobic and cold (especially when the rain and wind machines were going). We designed the cabin so that each wall came off. So we could really get coverage. Even with the walls off you felt like you were abandoned it a bleak wooden lighthouse. We shot through Oct – Dec, that warehouse was cold and gloomy.

David: The warehouse was huge, but with the sets built and the green screens hung it felt a lot smaller than it was. And trying to heat a space that big in the midst of winter was impossible. But the freedom that studio set-up gave us to move around and dis-assemble parts of the set was essential to getting the shots we needed.

The Lighthouse

BAH: How did you make the storm? Were you working with much water, or was it mostly VFX work?

Chris: We used rain machines (indoors) that Tim our designer had actually built and wind machines, really that was just to effect the actors. The rest was pure CGI. Vern did an amazing job of working out the green screen logistics, I think at the time we had one of the biggest green screens in Wales. The CGI was actually hellish to be honest, really difficult to create a storm without the Hollywood budget. I actually designed a particle rain system in after effects that matched the rain machines, but the stormy sea almost killed all of us! We had a fantastic VFX team (I also worked on a lot of the VFX) but it was tough on a low budget.

David: Seeing the torrential rain happen indoors was both a moment of pride and panic, but the systems we had in place worked a treat and the end effect was well worth the effort. With the wind machines going too, it was really a bizarre experience to be in the eye of a storm whilst indoors.

BAH: What has reaction been like to the film so far? What do you expect people will make of the film?

Chris: We’ve only really done a few test screenings, so we’ll need to see what the wider world thinks. People love it or hate it, we really wanted to make a film that felt like an ordeal, like you’re stuck with them in that terrible place, lost in that storm. It is a fairly dark film, a very personal film. Starburst were the first to review it and they gave us a fantastic 8 / 10 so hopefully the right audience will get the film and enjoy that darkness.

David: We know this film won’t be to everyone’s taste, but saying that people that I wouldn’t expect to have liked it have done. I think at its heart is a very human story and ordeal that everyone of us can relate to and take a stake in as it unfolds. That was always our intention, to leave the audience feeling like they’d spent months stuck on that lighthouse in those extreme conditions, battered, bruised and on-edge. A couple of screenings we’ve been at end with a very palpable silence once the end credits role, which for me is the kind of reaction I’d hope we’d get.

BAH: Is there anything you would have done differently, either in the content of the film or how you went about making it?

Chris: When you finish a film you look back and see so many things you could have done differently. At the end of the day it is what it is, it is what you achieved at that time with that budget. I try not to look back these days, only learn from each one.

David: I can’t look at the films I’ve been involved in without spotting the mistakes we made along the way. I won’t point them out because most of the time they’re irrelevant to other people watching the film with no idea of what’s gone on behind the scenes. There are a few things we’d liked to have done if we had the money, but chances are they wouldn’t have worked out as planned. As it stands, for what we did and had to do it with, the whole cast and crew can hold their heads up and feel proud of what they achieved with The Lighthouse. I know I am. [Nia agrees!]

BAH: I believe you’ve got another medieval project in the works, called Conquest – is this something that we might see in the near future?

Chris: ‘Conquest’ has a lot of interest, I love that project so hopefully yes. Probably a film or two down the line though as it needs a big, big budget.

David: We’re still actively developing ‘Conquest’ and it would be a dream project for us to get our teeth into next. However, given its scale and the current film-making distribution and financing climate, we’ve made the decision to make something a bit smaller first. That said, the next thing we do will be considerably bigger than The Lighthouse, for our own experience and the peace of mind of the backers too. I mean, look what we did with £300,000. Imagine what we could do with a million!

BAH: Any other upcoming projects?

Chris: Yes, but none that we can quite announce yet. We’ve actually got a great little slate coming together.

David: There’s a number of very commercial and exciting projects in development at the moment, once The Lighthouse gets out there we’re hoping we can use the momentum built to bring these new films on and get them made. The next couple of years will be an exciting and busy time for Dogs Of Annwn.

Huge thanks to Chris and David for talking to me about the film and their work. To keep up to date with the film, give The Lighthouse a ‘like’ on Facebook and for more on Chris and David’s work visit www.dogsofannwn.com.

Soda Pictures release The Lighthouse in UK cinemas on 8th July.