31 DAYS OF HORROR

every day of October, I will be watching a horror film I've never seen before and then write a mini-essay on each one. LETS GET SPOOPY.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 14 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD (1980) dir: Lucio Fulci

Lucio Fulci pushes gratuitous gore to unfathomable heights of disgust in his 1980 art house B-horror film CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD. Sometimes designated as “the godfather of gore,” it’s difficult to think of any other filmmakers to follow him that retain such a penchant for grotesque levels of blood, bile and flesh. What makes his particular aesthetic stand out and induce total nausea from the viewer is his ability to marry the gross with an artistic sensibility that, in a way, makes the imagery all of the more nasty to look at. Rather than please the gorehound crowd, CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD probably alienates it and pretty much anyone else that gets a chance to watch this amazingly abhorrent film.

Forget the story and it’s convoluted plot, CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD concerns itself much more with its make-up, special effects, and set designs - slowly pushing its disgusting aesthetic into newer, higher levels throughout the running time of the film. Eyes cry blood, people vomit sheep entrails, zombies look as if they are covered in radioactive shit, and cobweb-plastered corpses rise from the dead, terrorizing people for no comprehensible reason. Most horror films, even ones concerned with the grotesque, usually find dissonance by juxtaposing the pretty with the disgusting. Other Italian horror director Dario Argento remains a perfect example of this juggling act. Lucio Fulci finds nothing pretty in his aesthetic and that makes his style all of the more avant-garde for the genre.

That’s not to say there isn’t anything pleasurable to grasp from this film. CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD’s intent on remaining sick and gross disallows the film to get even close to the sensual. Instead of making people look like food (like in many zombie or cannibal films) and finding the horror in that particular juxtaposition, Lucio Fulci creates creatures so outside of what’s associated with humanity - that they end up looking like something that could only exist in the mind of someone who feels at home inside the grotesque. The horror may not be visceral, it may not be brutal, or even that gruesome - it’s just irreverently disgusting and maybe there’s something beautiful in that.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 13 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE (1974) dir: Brian De Palma

Brian De Palma’s PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE (1974) somehow succeeds at wearing all of its influences on its sleeve while simultaneously standing its ground as a unique, over-the-top B-movie with plenty of cinematic flourishes and wild storytelling.  PHANTOM OF THE OPERA meets FAUST meets a 1950s rock and roll opera - this whole bizarro movie works because the set pieces and characters (including their outfits) correctly embody everything it’s trying to be. It’s fun, it’s weird, it’s dark, and it’s absolutely hilarious - a counterculture takedown of mainstream forces with its middle finger high in the air.

The zany plot revolves around a disfigured musician who sells his soul to the devil to produce a cartoonish rock opera version of FAUST under the evil Death Records company who plans to manipulate and tarnish everything he’s worked for. It’s ability to seem contemporary and completely out-of-this-world is a feat unto itself. The DIY sets all seem fully realized, cloaked and adorned with so many rock and roll references and styles that the viewer remains hypnotized throughout the film. The balls-to-the-wall creativity shown throughout and the camera’s willingness to play gives the film a rollicking rhythm and a deterrence to subtlety. Basically, this film does NOT care. It’s lavish and silly and takes itself seriously in its foolishness. I mean, there’s a literal scene made up of a split screen displaying two different angles of a long take as the phantom blows up a Beach Boys-esque band rehearsal. That’s a lot of work for a technical sequence that’s only attempting to be as on-the-nose as possible about it’s parody of 1950s teen pics.

Apparently, the members of Daft Punk saw the film 20 times as teenagers when it came to theaters and one can see why PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE has achieved a cult following. Like ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW (1975), the film allows an escape and catharsis for its misfit viewers. The film displays the world of art and performance as one that’s relentlessly manipulative and pokes fun at everything along the way. It’s one of those films that you can’t believe even got made. I wish there were more like it.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 12 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974) dir: Bob Clark

Many consider Bob Clark’s BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974) the first true “slasher” film, and, despite many copycats over the years, the film may still be one of the best ones. Three-dimensional character work, the cold Christmas backdrop, and the sorority house setting not only help to navigate the tense, chilly plot but also exudes other promising, original filmmaking techniques. From the disorienting camera work to the well-executed use of dramatic irony, BLACK CHRISTMAS exists not only as the first “slasher,” but also one the scariest and least exploitative ones.

From the beginning of the film, the anonymous murderer’s POV shots invite the viewer into the eyes of a killer, helping to create an anxiety-inducing atmosphere of dread. These sequences not only allow the viewer more information than the protagonists, but also aesthetically utilizes claustrophobic, disorienting movements to intensify the labyrinthian sorority house. It becomes progressively clear that this house contains dozens of nooks, crannies and hiding spaces for the killer, which makes his eventual conquering of the entire space all the more spine-tingling. Somehow, despite the plethora of visual information given to us, the audience never truly understands what’s happening. In a way, knowing the killer’s whereabouts does nothing to help ease the tension. The plots twists and turns the entire film - achieving a sort of hopelessness that other slasher films fail to deliver.

But it’s not just the way the plot navigates itself, the characters within the film defy caricature - a writing choice that steeps the film into dense areas of sexism that become eye-opening for the viewer looking at the film retrospectively. Taboo subjects, like abortion, become integral to the plot, creating even more doses of dread in the film’s running time. These smart, educated women consistently don’t get taken seriously and encounter threatening circumstances even outside of the main stalk-and-murder plot. Perhaps the true horror found within BLACK CHRISTMAS is that we intrinsically know that no one will be able to save these women - allowing the slasher film to feel more like a distilled, horrific version of reality rather than an exploitative bloodbath at the movies.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 11 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

DON’T LOOK NOW (1973) dir: Nicolas Roeg

The first five minutes of Nicolas Roeg’s psychological horror film DON’T LOOK NOW (1973) leaves an indelible imprint, perhaps even a stain, on the rest of the film. The horrific sequence, complete with disorienting edits back and forth between interior and exterior spaces, achieves a rhyme and reason through its preoccupation with objects. A slide photograph, a child’s ball, a red raincoat, and, of course, the omnipresent force of water not only haunts this opening sequence, but finds its way into the visual makeup of the rest of the film.

A married couple travels to Venice for the husband’s work, but the grief associated with the death of their young daughter bubbles above the surface in the City of Water. When a psychic insists that she can “see” the spirit of their deceased daughter, it sets off a chain of events that allows the aforementioned sequence to bare its visual teeth. DON’T LOOK NOW succeeds in its heady, symbolic form of horror because it understands the implicit relationship between objects and memories. In particular, the daughter’s red raincoat proves a significant detail in the husband’s haunted psyche - a fixation that leads him into danger.

The way the film cuts back and forth constantly between different times and spaces helps to sell the narrative idea that the spiritual realm exists somewhere in between. The old psychic lady believes the husband has the power of sight as well but fears to use it. As the world around him begins to dismantle more and more, the visual language of film gets consistently disrupted by the editing - making it difficult for him and the viewer to comprehend what’s actually happening. It’s this inability to distinguish between the past and the present that not only gives DON’T LOOK NOW it’s terrifying tone, but also what makes the horror relatable to anyone watching it.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 10 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

CAT PEOPLE (1942) dir: Jacques Tourner

Jacques Tourner’s CAT PEOPLE (1942) relies on a strange story that begs the question of how such a weird film could have been made at the height of Classical Hollywood cinema. A man falls in love with a Serbian woman tortured and obsessed with a folkloric story of evil cat people ravishly destroying everything around them when jealous or sexually aroused. CAT PEOPLE effectively utilizes strange, foreign objects to make the film feel odd and dreamlike. However, two particular scenes really stand out as smart, quiet uses of tension through sound and space.

The first, a night scene in which the mentally unstable protagonist stalks a woman she fears will steal her husband, triumphs in its use of sound. The repetitive sounds of high heels on the sidewalk go from two sets to one - giving the prey a suspicion that she’s not only being followed, but by something she can’t hear or see. She picks up the pace, and for a while, no other sounds can be heard but the clank of her heels on the cement. In an earned scare, a bus appears out of nowhere, right in front of the terrified woman. This could very well be one of the first “jump scares” to ever appear in a horror film.

The second and most memorable sequence, follows the prey as she gets ready to take a dip in an underground pool in the middle of the night. She hears the sounds of roars within the shadows and soon jumps straight into the pool. The camera oscillates from close-ups of her gasping for air in the water, and shots of the walls surrounding the pool, bathed in a shimmering light. The sounds of her lapping in the pool and the roars of the unknown feline echo incessantly throughout the chamber, creating a claustrophobic effect. These sequences prove that sound design is key in illustrating the monster in a horror film, perhaps even more than the visual.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 9 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

NOSFERATU: PHANTOM DER NACHT (1978) dir: Werner Herzog

Werner Herzog’s vision of Dracula in his 1978 art film NOSFERATU: PHANTOM DER NACHT recalls the past, present and future of the iconic vampire while stamping it with his own unique style. Distilling only certain elements of the original Bram Stoker novel, Herzog steeps the entire film in an artful display of stark mise-en-scene, possessed cinematography, shadowy lighting, and lived-in performances. Whether one knows the story or not, the film aims to explore an archaic, mythological form of the vampire - allowing the film to feel like the viewer is witnessing the end of the world.

But rather than try to understand the philosophical, thematic implications (which there are plenty of), NOSFERATU screams to have its style scrutinized. The way the camera frames the wilderness, 19th century Germany, and Dracula’s gothic castle feels so above and beyond anything else. I’m at a loss - Herzog’s film embodies beauty, art and the grotesque in such a heady way that I don’t even know where to begin. Instead, I’ll just give details of a scene that has haunted me since I watched the film:

Lucy, draped in all white, bathed in a stark, bright light, awaits quietly for the monster to arrive in a medium-wide with her right in the center. The camera remains unwavering as Dracula floats out from within the shadows, his piercing claws raised, like he’s in some sort of theatrical dance. He inspects Lucy, scraping her dress toward her pelvis to expose her thighs. Lucy remains dormant, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as Dracula leans down to her neck, ready to feed. The film cuts to a close-up of the feeding, his claw placed on her breast. He looks up, and soon the film cuts to a close-up image of a bat flapping its wings in slow motion. A melancholy choral song scores the bat in mid-flight and continues as the film cuts back to the original wide of the feeding. Dracula unclenches his teeth from around Lucy’s neck toward the direction of the light as the musical score fades away.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 8 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

BLACK SUNDAY (1960) dir: Mario Bava

Let’s be honest: the convoluted plot is not why most people enjoy Mario Bava’s landmark Italian horror film BLACK SUNDAY (1960). The attention to atmospheric detail sucks the viewer right into its 19th century gothic fairytale and proves itself to be one of the most influential films in the genre. Deadly trap doors, misty cemeteries, secret passageways and satanic masks populate the ghoulish setting. Barbara Steele’s central performance (and outfits) probably had an effect on everyone from John Carpenter to Siouxsie and the Banshees. BLACK SUNDAY’s aesthetic appears as one for retrospective analysis more than any other film I’ve watched thus far.

Bava’s ability to bring the 19-century gothic tone to visual heights rests heavily on the detailed mise-en-scene, a balancing act of dynamic darkness and spooky Halloween camp. BLACK SUNDAY plays like a B-movie with a decent budget, full of shocks, spooks and surprises. The central setting, a cobweb-adorned castle that looks like it jumped right out of children’s book, simultaneously invokes uneasiness and a sense of wonder. There’s something so approachable about the film’s aesthetic that it makes one almost want to live within it. Though the film rarely terrifies, each shot’s plastered with such rich lighting and production design that one gets easily lost in it. Everything’s just so creative and easily recognizable, it’s difficult not to associate BLACK SUNDAY with the many subsequent films indebted to it in the years since.

But can I just talk more about Barbara Steele? Everything from her make-up to her hair feels so fashionable and gothy that I’m shocked her aesthetic from this film isn’t recreated more. When she introduces herself at the beginning of the film, draped in a black dress and cape, while walking two Great Danes in the middle of a cemetery, my breath stopped. She embodies the film’s tone - it’s ability to terrify and hypnotize, and I can’t image the film working as perfectly without her presence at the center. When she rises from the grave, wounds from nails covering her whole face, all I wanted to do was immediately pay homage to the look: an indelible image of grotesque beauty.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 7 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

NEAR DARK (1987) dir: Kathryn Bigelow

Kathryn Bigelow’s NEAR DARK (1987) succeeds as both a vampire story and a teen pic by remaining thoughtful and serious about the genres throughout the film’s narrative. Though the film delivers several thrills, it’s mostly made up of quiet moments - creating a world in which a midwestern small town and the supernatural walking dead can unite effortlessly. Bigelow treats the subject matter with a delicacy that puts the film’s main romance under an unpatronizing lens. Not only does NEAR DARK tell the vampire story as if it were some sort of drug addiction, it may be one the most raw, straightforward depictions of fringe counterculture to be put on film.

Though the purposefully meandering road story helps set the unique tone of the film, NEAR DARK also utilizes color to its advantage. All of the night scenes appear serene and dreamy, bathing the characters in a welcoming moonlight that offsets nicely with the violence they invoke. Daytime appears more harsh - piercing the viewers with bright oranges and yellows that recall the fire that consumes the vampire when he or she becomes exposed to daylight. These inversions of the usual invocations of color palettes in horror films, particularly vampire films, helps to the subvert the usual narrative associated with them.

But it’s really the main romance that keeps the film’s artful approach afloat. Perhaps it’s the “80s-esque” tone of the film, but the cross-starred lovers at the center of the story really sell their puppy dog romance as two people willing to uproot their whole ethical philosophies for each other. The protagonist basically joins a cult-ish group of anarcho-country punks to have the ability to spend more time with his bloodsucking girlfriend. He gives himself to the way of the vampire, though he clearly sticks out like a sore thumb as an addition to the group. The “happily ever after” ending to the story could have completely tanked, but somehow becomes poignant. They save each other from an eternal life of debauchery as if it were how it was always meant to be.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 6 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

THE HAUNTING (1963) dir: Robert Wise

Robert Wise’s THE HAUNTING (1963) is the scariest film I’ve watched so far for this series. It understands that horror arrives somewhere within the unsaid, the unseen and, furthermore, the unknown. THE HAUNTING expertly feeds the narrative through its atmosphere, allowing both the psychological horror and haunted house aesthetic to coexist as one. The viewer can enjoy the film in a variety of ways, from its mysterious narrative to its spooky mise-en-scene, and draw a plethora of conclusions from the film-watching experience.

Despite plenty of exposition, the haunted house remains steeped in a fog of mystery throughout the entire film. With the information given to us from beginning, the film then uses its cinematic choices as the clues to solve the puzzle. Everything from the sound to the cinematography points us in the right direction. The source of the film’s most haunted moments lie within its riveting sound design, a symphony of loud bangs, children’s cries and squeaky doors. Outside of the scarier moments, the mansion’s strange collection of angelic statues will surely send goosebumps up one’s spine. Sometimes, the camera even becomes possessed, allowing for surprising, shocking and provocative camera movements. All of these filmic techniques work together to suck you into its wonderfully told story, one that’s populated by perfectly realized characters and performances.

Much like Jack Clayton’s THE INNOCENTS (1963), this tour de force of atmosphere and tone has potential to be completely subsumed at any moment by its unreliable narrator. Behind all of the creaky staircases and rattling doorknobs, THE HAUNTING’s protagonist narrates the chain of events with a mentally unsound desperation for the horror to consume her. She feels the house watching her, but soaks in the attention like a small child. Much like the viewer, she too has an affinity for the weird and the unusual.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 5 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

WOLF CREEK (2005) dir: Greg McLean

Greg McLean’s brutal WOLF CREEK (2005) heightens a grindhouse, “torture porn” narrative by its aesthetic drive to focus on its performances and dark, alien setting. The slow build-up and its dichotomous two-part structure gives the audience ample opportunity to spend time with the poor victims of a grisly game of cat-and-mouse set in the vast Australian outback. The artful cinematography focuses deeply on the setting’s terrain, exposing us to its sublime beauty and its most grotesque recesses. This shift from wide-eyed adventure to disturbing cruelty proves to be the most significant reason why WOLF CREEK works more than other films in its genre.

Herein lies the true horror. The film’s first half feels loose and unremarkable, allowing the second half to appear as nonchalant as the first. The camera displays the heartless violence with a subtlety that exposes rather than exploits, which somehow makes the brutality less fetishistic. It helps that the writing for and the performances by the actors gives them a sensibility and scrappiness not seen in most “torture porn” films. The second half wanders, rather than twists and turns, which achieves a quiet tension. Rather than frightening, WOLF CREEK’s deeply unsettling. The villain might also be one of the most effective villains in a 21st century horror film - funny, relentless and depraved.

WOLF CREEK definitely doesn’t shy away from its violence, but finds a way to make all of it feel earned. Actually, other films in the “torture porn” subgenre, like Eli Roth’s HOSTEL series, find great fun in their gratuitous nature. Thankfully, McLean’s attempt at a sparse, motivated use of tension and violence packs its scenes with a punch I haven’t seen since the incredible French Canadian MARTYRS (2008). Instead of desensitizing, WOLF CREEK tries to force the viewer to feel the pain in all of its visceral glory.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 4 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

PHANTASM (1979) dir: Don Coscarelli

A B-horror movie with art house aspirations, Don Coscarelli’s PHANTASM (1979) milks the most out of its small budget by remaining dreamlike throughout. The film works because the wooden acting, off-the-cuff sound design, and DIY special effects play effectively into its surrealist tone. What stands out the most, however, is the ways in which PHANTASM places scenes in only a handful of locations that really embody the spirit and tone of the film. From the black-and-white marble mausoleum to the witchy fortune teller’s home, Coscarelli consistently utilizes these spaces to create an insular world somewhere between the one we live in and one beyond.

Though the script reportedly changed frequently throughout production, Coscarelli frames these spaces expertly with shaky camera work and an array of wonderful wide shots. In particular, the cemetery plays out like one in a child’s nightmare, overlooked by a mansion of a funeral home in the distance. The cemetery serves as an effective backdrop to the opener’s murderous sex scene, helping the familiar horror trope achieve terror rather than silly exploitation. An orange-tinted bar, an ice cream truck, and a quaint antique shop help paint the picture of a typical American suburb, while the absolutely gorgeous and creepy gargantuan of a funeral home (where the hell did Coscarelli find this wonderful place?) foils nicely with the rest of the town.

What really makes PHANTASM shine is the strange sense of normalcy the whole nightmare achieves. Characters navigate the bizarre events as if a severed finger could turn into nothing but a mutant insect (yeah, I know). This Spielberg-esque style of fantasy mixed with a childlike sense of horror produces something wholly unique. It’s proof that great work can come from a commitment to explore within one’s limitations.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 3 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

WE ARE WHAT WE ARE (2013) dir: Jim Mickle

Jim Mickle’s WE ARE WHAT WE ARE (2013) relies heavily on a slow buildup that barely pays off. The cannibal film attempts to build tension through mysterious dialogue and its “hillbilly Christian” backdrop, but lacks any real surprises or thoughtful commentary on religious zealotry. The filmic techniques do little to paint a fully-realized world, though the well-decorated, purposely antiquated production design gets close. Unfortunately, the average cinematography does little to utilize the aspects of the film that do work.

Narratively, the film can’t seem to decide whether it’s an exploitation of religious nonsense (like 2015’s THE WITCH) or a horror-tinged coming-of-age story (like 2003’s A TALE OF TWO SISTERS). Mixing these elements together could definitely work, but WE ARE WHAT WE ARE lacks any substantial focus or motivation for the character’s decisions. Even the drawn-out exposition for their cannibalistic history doesn’t make a lick of sense. The actors really shine in their roles and several scenes of explicit bloodshed really make the stomach churn, but the meandering subplots and narrative flow suffer from its indecision to over- or under- explain the reasoning behind the family’s ritualistic sacrifices.

In the climax, all of these issues almost become worth it in a melodramatic, grotesque tour de force by the actors. The actors commit completely to their performances, allowing the shocking imagery to deeply disturb the viewer rather than induce a collective eye roll. Aesthetically, the disturbing, mythological climax certainly makes the slow build up pay off. However, thematically, it’s pretty obvious what the film wants to say. If the rest of the film was as aesthetically thoughtful as its final act, WE ARE WHAT WE ARE could have induced unthinkable inner turmoil rather than momentary nausea.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 2 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

THE FOG (1980) dir: John Carpenter

Atmosphere and a sense of unease make up most of John Carpenter’s THE FOG (1980), a spooky folkloric tale that puts an idyllic coastal town into a literal mist of horror. Idiosyncratic characters navigate the startling events of ghosts lurking in a supernatural fog, seeking revenge during the town’s 100 year anniversary. Though the film triumphs visually, the true star of the film reveals itself to be Carpenter’s thoughtful musical score and sound design, a symphony of buzzing machines and creepy synths that juxtapose nicely with the almost mythological force that wreaks havoc on the quaint town.

The beginning proves itself to be one of the greatest openers to a horror film I’ve ever seen. After a nostalgic, childlike campfire ghost story, the town goes into a state of disarray in the middle of the night. Machines and other electronic items showcase strange and bizarre behavior - car alarms go off, a tv goes static - all while a radio DJ gives news on the upcoming anniversary and the strange weather soon to arrive. All of this, paired with Carpenter’s dark synth score, provides something akin to a fantasy film fallen under a dark moon. It certainly provides the ultimate theme of the film - a seemingly normal small town can no longer hide from the dark secrets lingering underneath. The sound design provides the arrival of the darkness in all its glory.

This melding of diegetic sound and non-diegetic score creates a sound design that really showcases the losing battle between the modern, technological world and the inexplicable forces of betrayal and rage. Near the end, the fog even turns off the power in the whole town. It’s a horror film in which the characters have nowhere to hide and have no chance of fighting back. The sound design provides a constant, omnipresent reminder that nothing can even get close to defeating what lies deep within the fog.

[thelookunder-blog]

DAY 1 of 31 DAYS OF HORROR:

DEEP RED (1975) dir: Dario Argento

A morbid curiosity for the grotesque propels the narrative of Italian giallo director Dario Argento’s DEEP RED (1975) into creepy, surprising territory. The story follows a pianist’s attempts to solve the mystery surrounding the death of a mind reader, allowing the film to exist somewhere between detective thriller and supernatural horror. Argento binds these two genres together by framing the scenes with a fritzy, unpredictable camera that appears to have a mind of its own.

The shaky, mobile cinematography plays into the tension and ghostly tone of the film. For example, the camera begins a new scene with a startling moving shot of ceiling lights before whipping back down and introducing us back to our main characters. Frequently, the camera begins or ends new scenes in a similar fashion, creating an aura of confusion and wonder. Zoom outs, circling shots, and other movement-heavy techniques make up a large chunk of the film. The camera will even leave in the middle of a scene, presenting the viewer with strange set pieces outside the protagonist’s perspective. All of these stylistic choices frame the narrative as a chaotic descent into a whirlpool of psychological horror. The camera itself seems to be going mad.

Visceral, brutal death scenes really shine in the film. The camera gets really close and allows textures, colors, and, of course, gore to meld together into something both beautiful and horrifying. One particular death scene involving steam on bathroom tile really showcases Argento’s mastery of the genre. Hanging dolls, mechanical puppets, and disturbing children’s drawings are some of the terrifying objects that adorn the film. Throughout DEEP RED, the camera utilizes movement to really make the most of its eerie settings, almost as if it’s trying to give us clues to something that we’ll never truly comprehend.