Horror Movie Fave: The Harbinger (directed by Andy Mitton, 2022)

SPOILERS BELOW! Don’t read if you don’t want to know.

What’s the Horror: A deadly pandemic (yeah, I know, but I promise this one is worth watching)

Does the Dog Die? No animal cruelty in this one

Gore Factor: Maybe a 2? There’s really no gore to speak of here. Trust me, it doesn’t need it.

Character Quality: Excellent. Gabby Beans (as Monique) is captivating.

Re-Watch Scale: Not too often. Not because it isn’t amazing, which it is, but it’s a hard watch given that most of us, self included, really want to just forget all about the early days of lockdown, when no one knew what the hell we were dealing with and how long it was going to last.

SPOILERS AHEAD – LAST WARNING

The Harbinger came out in 2022, as did another film called simply Harbinger. I’m not sure if that’s why this one didn’t get as much attention as it deserves, but trust me, it deserves your attention. It deserves ALL the attention. Better than any pandemic-based movie I’ve seen over the past few years, The Harbinger serves as a sad, scary metaphor for death and how fear of it can completely dominate people’s lives. It also evokes the panic and trepidation of those early weeks and months of COVID-19, when everything, and everyone, felt dangerous, and learning how to navigate our lives in a different way felt daunting and depressing.

Gabby Beans as Monique

The Harbinger presents us with a world in still, silent turmoil: Monique has moved back into her father’s house with her brother to stay with them during the pandemic. She’s uprooted herself in order to ride out the crisis with her loved ones, hiding out at home and marveling over how they can now order groceries in advance and pick them up without making any contact with anyone (remember how novel that was in the beginning?). It’s the dead of winter, and while Monique and her family sit down for a warm family dinner, the view outside is cold, grey, and completely still – there’s nothing going on out there, no movement, no action, no life.

But there’s a twist here that, even though it’s not a detail the real pandemic contained, feels as real as COVID itself: in this version of the pandemic, when you die, everyone you ever knew immediately forgets that you ever existed. Let that sink in for a moment. The second you’re snuffed out, all of your loved ones forget who you are. And every time someone you love checks out, you forget who they were. Imagine it: All over the globe, people are looking at photos on their phones wondering who the hell that person is. And it’s you. Terrifying. Aren’t we all afraid of being forgotten after we’re gone? Isn’t so much of what we do in life an attempt to leave a legacy behind? Imagine being a parent and realizing that your children will forget you the instant you stop breathing. Now imagine being locked up in your apartment, looking at photos of strange people and wondering why the hell you’re surrounded by images of strangers. It’s horrifying, existential stuff. It harkens back to that first year of COVID-19, when the number of dead became so overwhelming we grew numb to it, unable to comprehend how so many human beings could perish in one day. And we weren’t even able to honor them with a funeral service. They just … died. And if they had to be hospitalized, that was another kind of disappearance, because you couldn’t visit them. You didn’t get to say goodbye. So many people died afraid and alone. And The Harbinger harkens back to those fears with astounding accuracy.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. It will take a while before anyone learns the truth about what The Harbinger does to any life it snuffs out. First, there’s a different dilemma Monique faces that will be familiar to all of us: she has a friend who lives in the city (I think it’s New York) and she is distressed. She’s in a very bad place, and she’s all alone. She’s a friend Monique hasn’t kept in touch with since college, but when they were close, Mavis helped Monique through a particularly dark time. According to Monique, Mavis saved her life, and Monique promised her that no matter what, she would do the same for Mavis if she was ever in need. And she’s desperately in need now. How many of us faced a situation like this throughout the pandemic? Going to visit a sick friend was an absolute minefield, and if a friend or family member needed anything at all, you had to evaluate whether or not helping them out was worth the risk. Monique decides it’s worth the risk, and against the advice of her family, she goes to help her friend.

A big part of Mavis’s distress is that she’s not just sick. She’s having visitations in her dreams. Nightmares from which she cannot wake. A horrible entity wearing an awful plague mask stalks her in her sleep. And it’s getting harder to resist it. Would it help just to know you’re not alone? Monique asks Mavis at one point, and damn, that hits hard. It should be such an easy thing to do, but during the height of COVID-19, it felt like an impossible task to accomplish for anyone. But Monique is a fucking hero. She made a promise, and once she arrives at Mavis’s apartment, she comes through for her friend, hugging her and even offering to sleep next to her so she won’t be so scared.

Unfortunately, human kindness in this situation means you risk being struck down by the same thing that’s tormenting the person you’re trying to help, and that’s what happens to Monique. She starts having bizarre dreams from the first night. So let’s talk about these dreams: Mavis describes how they’ve slowly increased in duration, to the point that now she sleeps for days at a time, unable to wake no matter what she does. The only reason she even knows she’s sleeping is because – she can’t go to sleep when she’s in them. She’s already asleep. And the plague doctor is always there, telling her it’s almost time for her to die, to fall asleep, and never wake up. Monique responds with empathy and support – exactly what anyone would do for a friend in this situation, except in this situation, showing up with empathy and support means you might be the next to die. It’s clear Monique doesn’t understand this, and whether or not she’d come to the aid of her friend if she knew is unclear. She probably would. It’s the sort of balance a lot of us had to deal with during the pandemic, and it forced us to make choices we never thought we’d have to make, to behave in ways we never thought we would behave. Suddenly, just extending a helping hand has disastrous consequences, and what that does to our collective psyche is incomprehensible.

Monique’s first dream reveals her as a child, walking through the snow with her mother. We can’t see Mom, but we hear her, calling Monique into the woods. She calls Monique “sparrow,” a detail that will matter later. Having already seen Monique with her family we know her mother has already died, and sure enough, instead of seeing her mother emerge from the woods, Monique sees a dark shrouded figure. Please don’t hurt me, she begs, and then we cut to Monique in the present moment, sitting upright on Mavis’s bed, still sleeping. She wakes up and checks her phone, only to find a long list of unreturned texts from her brother. Who knows how long she’s been asleep. Mavis is still snoozing, so there’s no way to know. Monique hears coughing from the apartment upstairs and goes out into the den to listen more closely. Her brother Facetimes her and immediately asks why she isn’t wearing her mask. And just like that, reality intrudes upon the safe little bubble Monique created with her friend. When it was just the two of them, it felt like the right thing to do to unmask and hug. But with her brother on the line asking questions, Monique struggles to justify herself. Again – such a familiar experience, right?

Her brother Lyle tells her their father started running a high fever the night before. They hope it’s not that, but they can’t be sure. Suddenly Mavis starts to scream, and just as suddenly, the ceiling caves in and the body of a little boy crashes through it, landing on the floor with a thud. He’s bleeding from his mouth. Panicked, Monique looks around for any sign of what the hell is going on, and through an open doorway, the image of the plague doctor appears. “He says it’s nice to meet you,” the ceiling kid says, and then Monique wakes up again – but is it for real this time? It’s already getting hard to tell. Damn, this plague moves fast, doesn’t it?

Lyle calls (again), but Dad is fine. And Mavis screams (again), but no one falls through the ceiling. Monique goes to Mavis, who has bitten her lip in an attempt to wake herself up. Monique asks Mavis to describe the entity to her, and she makes a sketch of it – looks like Monique is quite the artist given the quality of the sketch. Then they post the picture online everywhere they can, asking if others have seen the same thing. I’m surprised they don’t know anything about the plague doctor and his mask, but the internet has to tell them what it is. While they’re reading about it, they hear an ambulance siren stopping in front of the building. It’s the little boy. He was real, and he had the plague, and the ambulance is there to take him away. He’s dead.

We cut to nighttime. It’s raining as we peer through a rainy window. A woman is lying in bed as a young girl approaches her, and we see that it’s young Monique again, and the woman in bed is her mom. She crawls into bed with her, frightened by the storm, and saddened that she’s forgetting what her grandmother looks like. She’s afraid people will forget her when she dies. Mom reassures her that the end of her life is a long way off, then points at a picture of her grandmother to reinforce to Moniqe that she will be remembered. But the plague doctor is there, hiding in the corner of the room, and when Monique sees it her Mom changes. Some sort of black, thick tongue sneaks out from between her lips, and she shoves Monique under the covers. As she fights, Monique (in adult form) suddenly finds herself in some sort of morgue-mobile; it’s cold and blue and there are dead bodies on either side of her.

She bangs on the walls of the truck, begging it to stop. It stops. She leaps out, and finds herself in a dark room. A flashlight is at her feet. She picks it up and starts to walk through a hallway, trying to find a way out. Instead, she finds the little boy who died in Mavis’s apartment building. I can help you wake up, he tells her before plunging a needle into her temple. Monique wakes up screaming.

Unfortunately, Mavis is in worse shape than Monique. She’s standing stock-still in the middle of the bedroom, fast asleep. It’s unclear how long she’s been standing there. She’s urinated on herself. Monique cleans it up. It’s another reminder of how humiliating illness can be, how undignified our bodies can be as we die. Yet Monique is there to take care of her, even though she’s paying a heavy price. When Mavis screams herself awake, Monique admits that she’s seeing the plague doctor in her dreams now, too. Mavis is understandably distraught. She feels like she never should have called, that she’s doomed her friend just as surely as she is doomed herself. It’s a sucky way to feel, for sure, but there is nothing to be done now except deal with it. Monique isn’t ready to give up. She’s made an appointment with a demonologist for them to meet with on a Skype call.

The demonologist doesn’t have good news for the two. This entity they are seeing is NOT the plague, she says, but it feeds on the fear the plague creates. What it is, according to her, is a bad idea. It lodges in your head and won’t leave. This being has come to be known as The Harbinger because once you see it, it’s all over. It uses anything and everything it can to deepen your fear and confusion. And the more fear it generates within you, the deeper it digs – until at last it consumes you entirely. Everyone you’ve known, everything you’ve ever done, even everything you own disappears when it finally erases you. Because of this, it’s impossible to track. No living person even knows there’s something to track at all, because they’ve all forgotten the dead ever existed. The demonologist only knows about it because the process isn’t perfect; it often leaves relics behind like a photo or a piece of clothing, and through talking to so many people some relics of their stories have stayed in her memory. But she doesn’t remember anything about them. And that’s all the information she has – there’s no solution to the problem she can offer. She’s just hoping to stop the spread of the fear that invites the entity in.

Monique and Mavis are stunned. It’s not just the dying, Mavis tells Monique. It’s the cruelty of it, that no one will remember her when she’s gone. She shows Monique a picture of a man who is looking at her with love. Mavis has no idea who he is, but she can tell it is someone who loved her, but she has no recollection of their relationship. They both surmise that this is the person who infected Mavis. She probably loved that man too, Mavis concludes, but now he’s just gone as if he never existed. She cannot remember him. And she knows that when the plague doctor finally gets his hands on her, no one will remember her either. It’s brutal.

And it’s too much for Monique, who waits until Mavis falls asleep that night and then writes her a note before taking off. She drives back home to her father’s house, where her dad and her brother are both angry she’s come back after being exposed to the illness. Welcome home!

The note Monique leaves for Mavis

There’s a surreal conversation that takes place here; the camera cuts between close-ups of Monique and her brother as they discuss the consequences of her return. Close-up of the brother, talking through his mask: Monique has to isolate herself in her bedroom. Cut to close-up of Monique, also talking through her mask: yes, yes of course. Back to Lyle: and you have to wear your mask everywhere outside of your room. Cut to Monique: Absolutely. I promise. Cut back to Lyle: Did you do what you set out to do? Did you help your friend? Cut back to Monique, but this time – she’s not wearing her mask. Tears fill her eyes as she starts to tell them how she abandoned Mavis in her time of need, but Lyle cuts her off. Where is your mask? he demands of her, and Monique reaches instinctively for her face where her mask should be, but it’s gone.

Lyle’s body language shifts, as does that of their father. Lyle rushes Monique and grabs her roughly, dragging her up from the sofa and towards the stairs. “I’ll go! I’ll go!” Monique shouts, trying to get Lyle to stop manhandling her, but he persists, as Dad shouts at her to get upstairs. It’s another harsh reality of the pandemic that’s easy to understand: as soon as you’re infected, and at the point where you need the most love and support, you’re cut off entirely from everyone, left to handle the illness on your own. You know you’re a danger to others, but the instinct NOT to isolate is still there; as soon as Lyle shoves Monique into her room and slams the door, she turns around to see her dead mother sitting in her bed. Monique immediately starts pounding at the door, begging to be let out, but of course, no one comes to help her, because as far as they know this is just Monique trying to get out of isolation. Now the Harbinger appears before her, and she turns back to the door, pounding and shouting until she knocks a hinge loose and collapses onto the door as it smashes to the floor.

Monique stands up and looks around. She’s no longer at home; she’s in a funeral parlor. There’s an open casket at the end of the hall – it’s the boy from Mavis’s apartment building who died. Monique hears a sound – it sure sounds like Mavis screaming – and when she turns back around, the boy’s body is no longer in the casket. The lid slams shut, and the boy is standing behind it. He starts to walk towards her, and she takes off through a door at the back of the room. She ends up in a morgue, complete with a dead body on a table, and, still hearing the little boy’s footsteps behind her, hides inside an empty cabinet. The boy, of course, knows where she is, and gives us a good jump scare when Monique peeks out from behind the door. But he’s not following her to try and harm her; he wants to tell her that there’s a way to defeat the Harbinger. He knows this because he died from a disease that only adults were supposed to get, and that made him an aberration, even in the awful afterlife of the Harbinger. He wants to help her. Show me where you sleep, he says, and immediately they’re back in Mavis’s bedroom. The real Mavis and Monique are asleep in bed.

The boy tells Monique that the Harbinger is on its way, and soon the figure appears in the open doorway. Monique is frozen in fear, but the boy says the Harbinger is not there for her. It approaches the bed on Mavis’s side. We have to do something, Monique says, but the boy tells her they can’t because they are in a dream. They aren’t real, but the bodies on the bed are, and suddenly Mavis sits straight up and begins to scream. The Harbinger grabs at her and starts to drag her away as she screams and fights. Dream-Monique grabs her own sleeping body and starts shaking it, shouting at herself to wake up. We see Mavis as she is dragged off the bed and out the door, and as soon as she is gone Monique wakes up in Mavis’s apartment, alone. Every trace of Mavis has disappeared. It’s just an empty apartment. And Monique has no idea what she’s doing there. She’s forgotten Mavis already.

The landlord shows up to tell her that she can’t squat in an empty apartment, assuming Monique has been on some kind of bender. Monique has no idea where she is, or how she got there, so she calls Lyle, who’s upset with her for disappearing the way she did. He can’t understand how Mavis got into the city without her car, which is still at home (because she never drove into the city, since there is no Mavis now), and Monique can’t explain any of it. Lyle is frustrated, but kind, and the love between the two is clear, as is the strain Monique’s mental illness has put on their relationship in the past.

Once she’s back at home, Monique goes to bed, and as soon as she falls asleep she’s awake. Here we go again! She’s back in Mavis’s apartment, and it’s still furnished as if Mavis lived there. Monique has a moment of remembering, whispering Mavis’s name. The sadness in her eyes is heartbreaking. She walks into the den – the room where the little boy fell through the ceiling in another dream – and sits down on the sofa with a deliberateness that reveals her courage. She’s waiting for the Harbinger, and it’s clear she is going to confront it when it arrives.

And arrive it does, in dramatic fashion. Ol’ Harbinger is really pulling out all the stops for Monique here, materializing in the apartment on a wave of golden light. Monique stares at it knowingly before standing up and walking right up to it. They share a conversation that sheds some light on why Monique is not as afraid of the Harbinger as others might be: You have no family, the Harbinger tells Monique, in a voice that is clearly Monique’s own. You were never born. Just like you always wanted. So in a way, Monique’s past suicidal ideation has familiarized her with the Harbinger in some unconscious way, and the Harbinger is using this knowledge to get at her.

But Monique isn’t going down without a fight. She screams and digs her fingers into the open eyeholes of the Harbinger’s plague mask. Blood streams down its face. She grabs a knife, and in a flash, she’s stabbed the thing in the gut and tackled it to the floor. She saws off its head in a fit of rage, then covers its dead body with a sheet. Problem solved?

Unsure what else to do, Monique sits on the floor of the apartment and waits. Soon a bright blue light appears across her face, and there’s a knock at the door. She opens it, and the little boy is on the other side. The door no longer leads into the apartment hallway; it now opens onto the same bleak, snowy landscape Monique saw in her very first dream. She tells the little boy she’s happy to see him. He’s happy to see her too – but the green screen is really bad here. Ok, he didn’t say that last part, that was me. Moving on.

The little boy praises Monique for killing the Harbinger, then asks her if she wants to wake up. Monique didn’t realize that she could, and the boy says she can if she follows him. Out they go into the snowy woods. They make quite a pair, as neither one of them is dressed for chilly weather, but they don’t appear bothered. They walk deep into the woods until they come upon Monique’s bed nestled among the snowy trees. The boy encourages her to climb in, which she does. He tells her to close her eyes, and she asks him where he will go. He doesn’t know – maybe he’ll just disappear. Monique smiles at him kindly. I won’t forget, she tells him. The little boy smiles back at her. It’s a lovely moment.

She closes her eyes and wakes up in her bedroom. Her brother is there, and as soon as he sees that Monique is awake he calls out to their father. The two of them tell her about how she’s been unresponsive for three days, and how they had to badger their doctor to do something about it. The doctor ended up sending someone in a Hazmat suit to tend to her, and while they were there they administered all three of them a plague test. They were all negative. Damn, this just keeps getting better and better doesn’t it? And the light outside seems to agree – there’s no doubt this scene is brighter and more vibrant than any other scene in the movie up to this point. Monique is thrilled and clearly taken aback at all this good news.

We get some shots of a statue in the snow – the Angel of Hope, it says, and hey, why not? – and then a close-up of the family’s mailbox, which has a note on it reading “Thank you essential workers” with a heart drawn on it. These are good people, this family, and it’s a relief to know they’re all OK. It’s cathartic, after all the horror we’ve watched Monique go through so far.

A rare moment of happiness

Cut to Monique in her bedroom on her laptop, talking to the demonologist. She remembers the doctor, although not that the last time she met with her Mavis was there. She’s telling the demonologist about how she slept for three days straight without having any sort of dream, and the demonologist seems…significantly less enthused about this than one would expect. Monique notices, and asks her what’s wrong. The demonologist asks Monique how she knew what to do to escape the Harbinger and wake herself up, and Monique tells her it was an angel, a little boy who came to her and led her out.

If your demonologist makes this face, RUN

The demonologist looks panicked. She tells Monique that the Harbinger is everyone in her dreams. There is no one else there. Monique says this was different, and the demonologist reminds her that everyone and everything is a tool for the Harbinger, to get closer to her. Monique slams her laptop shut, not wanting to hear any of it. But it’s clear on her face that doubt has taken hold. I’m not ready to – she starts to say, when BAM! The Harbinger slams through her bedroom wall with violent force.

We cut to the brother and the father downstairs, who are both in a trance. At first, I was sure this meant they have both also been invaded by the Harbinger, but upon re-watch, I’m not so sure. They’re not asleep, they’re just frozen in place, so maybe that’s what happens to the uninfected while someone close to them is being taken? I’m still not sure. Either way, they stay stock still as the Harbinger drags Monique kicking and screaming down the stairs and out of the house. As soon as she’s gone, Lyle comes to while someone pounds on the front door. It’s a policewoman. Someone called in a report of some commotion in their house. But Lyle’s all alone there. Dad is in the hospital, and Lyle has no brothers or sisters. The officer asks if his dad is going to be OK, and Lyle says yes, he is, and that they are taking him off a ventilator and bringing him home the next day. The officer leaves, and Lyle looks around the room, confused.

Cut to the next day, when Lyle is helping his feeble father back into the house. They remove their masks and stand quietly in front of a window. It’s back to being cold and bleak outside. Lyle notices that Dad doesn’t seem happy to have survived, to be out of the hospital, and Dad says he could be happy if the world around him wasn’t so damaged and empty. Oh, if he only knew. Dad says a shadow is falling over them, and that he knows Lyle can feel it even if pretends he can’t. There are worse things coming, Dad says, and Lyle tells him he has to keep up hope. Dad asks why, and Lyle says that’s just what they do; they keep hoping. Dad isn’t convinced. He tells Lyle he’s going to bed. But as he walks towards the stairs, he sees something on the floor. He stops to pick it up. It’s a sketch of a sparrow, and it was clearly drawn by Monique. Dad looks up and around the room with a look of fear, sadness, and confusion on his face. His eyes are full of tears.

The end.

This is a heartbreaking film that’s scary in so many ways beyond supernatural jump scares and suspense, although there’s plenty of that as well. When the Harbinger slams through Monique’s wall after she hangs up on the demonologist, it’s a huge shock, even though we too have figured out that the Harbinger tricked her. I think it’s because she’s in the middle of making a statement (I’m not ready to…to what? To think about the possibility that she wasn’t saved? To die?) that the crash through the wall sent me through the roof. It’s a terrifying moment, but it’s well-executed and well-earned. This may be a tough movie to watch, especially at a time when the world’s collective trauma still has us running from all memories of that awful time – but it’s worth watching at least once for its sad, elegiac beauty.

Found Footage Faves: Bad Ben 10 & 11 – Eulogy and Undead

What’s the horror: ghosts (in the form of Tom Riley), zombies

Does the dog die? Nope

Gore factor: Nah – our man BB doesn’t go that way

Re-watch scale: Eulogy is not one I will re-watch, but Undead has grown on me much like Haunted Highway did.

Here we are again – Nigel Bach is crankin’ these movies out more quickly it seems, for better or worse. Mostly it’s for the better, but along the way, there’s bound to be some duds. Eulogy isn’t Bach’s strongest entry, but it does serve a necessary purpose in bridging the death of Riley in the last episode to future episodes. After confirming Tom was killed at the end of Benign, Bach has to do something to open the Rileyverse back up for future films, and in that regard, Eulogy serves its purpose. Also, I think Eulogy was made towards the end of the pandemic, when working with others was still dicey, so that probably affected the end result as well. And kudos must go out to Bach for continuing to make films throughout the pandemic – nothing slows this dude down, it seems, and even when the world feels apocalyptic, there he is, doing what he does. It’s pretty comforting.

With Eulogy, we start in familiar territory – an investigative podcaster has gained access to new footage regarding Tom Riley’s current predicament and plans to create a documentary about the goings-on for his viewers. We saw this premise in Badder Ben, and it worked well, so I don’t have any problems with Bach mining familiar territory here. After viewing the usual “this is footage we found” opening text, and a quick catch-up/review for anyone who’s either new to the franchise or has forgotten what happened in the previous nine movies, our investigator for this outing, who identifies himself as Jackson Scott, promises to show us new information that will, of course, blow our minds. Let’s get to work!

First, Jackson reminds us that somewhere along the way, Bach started a paranormal investigation service called Boo Be Gone, because of course he did. Jackson gained access to hours of recordings related to BBG through a Freedom of Information Request, and the first clip he shows is one of Tom Riley himself (hey, Tom!) with a collection of BBG’s contacts, client files, and recordings that he’s hiding in his shed. He wants someone to know where his shit is, in case anything happens to him, which we know has come to pass.

Jackson’s standing in front of Tom’s shed as he tells us this, then he uses a crowbar to break into it. He finds the files, and just as he’s about to leave he hears that familiar Bad Ben screech – it’s honestly the weirdest sound ever – and in an old mirror hanging crookedly on a wall of the shed appears the message: He Rots in Hell. Wow, thanks mirror. Now we know what happened to Tom so we can all go home, I guess.

Just kidding. Jackson’s got a ton of material to review now, so we cut to his studio where he’s ready to record a new episode. He starts off by telling us he’s contacted the people in Tom’s files, and any time he encountered someone who was willing to talk to him he asked them “One simple question: did you know Tom Riley?” We then cut to Tom talking about what he thinks people will say about him when he’s dead. “I think people will say, yeah, I knew Tom Riley,” he says, which, way to shoot for the absolute minimum there, Tom.Then we cut to a collection of Tom’s clients all saying, unsurprisingly, “Yeah, I knew Tom Riley.” So far, so good, Tom. You’re predicting the future quite well.

But not for long, because soon Tom is being asked what else people will say about him, and he of course says people will probably say he’s a nice guy. Cut to the same group of people calling him an asshole, moron, and idiot. Heh. It was a pretty obvious setup, but it’s still funny.

This is as good a place as any to mention a key component of this BB installment – all of the clients Jackson interviews throughout the movie are fans of the franchise. Nigel Bach started offering cameos and mentions in his movies to fans who donate a few episodes ago, and with each subsequent film, the number of contributing fans increases. This movie approaches that funding much like Pandemic did, by primarily using these contributors as minor characters in a series of vignettes. It’s a trick that worked well once, but I’m not sure it’s good enough to be used a second time as it gets old rather quick here. Each scene from Tom’s video diary has a random picture in the background that’s clearly another contributor, and different fans create the video vignettes Jackson shares, all of which discuss their experiences with using Boo Be Gone and Tom Riley to rid their house of evil spirits.

As you can imagine, there’s a varying level of acting talent among these fans, so not understanding why they’re being used in the film at all might make the viewing experience baffling. And the random photos that keep showing up behind Tom can be distracting, as they’re clearly added digitally into a frame rather than being real photos. It’s an odd problem to solve; Bach needs financing to keep doing what he does, and he went through some financial difficulty with a shitty distributor who screwed him over which led to needing even more outside help, so I get why he solicits fan donations. Being totally independent is key to Bach’s movies; he does homemade cinema better than just about anyone, but that does mean a lot of crowdfunding, and he needs to keep upping the stakes, I guess, so fans continue to donate. It can weigh the films down, to be honest – BUT, again, the pandemic must be considered here also. Now that the world is back to business, Nigel Bach can find a way to make his contributors and his viewers happy, as well as appeal to new viewers; I’ve no doubt of that. If anyone can do it, he can. And his fans deserve to be featured, to be honest – they’re the ones who step up and keep him going when things get rough financially. Bach has managed to keep this train rolling since 2016, so I’m pretty confident he will iron out the kinks with each new installment.

But to make it work during COVID-19 time, this film is mostly just interviews – of different clients, and of Tom himself. Then we have Jackson occasionally popping in to stare into the camera and relay information, so overall, yeah – there’s a lot of scenes of people just talking into a camera in this one. The stories they all relay revolves around the idea that while Tom thinks he’s a kick-ass ghost hunter and has cleared the spaces of his clients to their satisfaction, his clients have quite a different perspective. Tom either failed to fix the problem, made the problem worse, or in some cases destroyed people’s property in the process. Some of the stories clients tell could have been their own movies, and in fact this kind of feels like a bunch of Bach’s ideas that never fleshed out into full-blown films.

One of the strangest things about this installment is how stiff Tom is in front of the camera for most of the runtime. He clearly had very specific things he wanted to say about each experience that he relays to the camera, and his interviews have the quality of being recited rather than spontaneously discussed with an interviewer. It’s unusual for Bach, who was definitely funnier and more spontaneous in Pandemic as he reacted to the situations people were sending him via video.

Things continue along in this vein until about the one-hour mark (!), when Jackson speaks to Tom directly via a psychic with a crystal ball. Sure enough, he is in Hell, and has taken to calling Satan Glenn just to piss him off. Heh. As soon as Tom Riley is back to wisecracking and done with reciting stories, the energy picks up tremendously, especially as we watch Jackson track down Tom’s lost grimoire (it was stolen by Bad Ben when he ticked Tom off and he threw it at the creature) and use it to bring Tom back to life. And back to life Tom is, about seven minutes before the end of the film. Unfortunately, almost as soon as Tom is brought back to life zombies come stumbling out of the woods, and Jackson and Tom take off. End of movie.

This leads us to Undead, taking place right where Eulogy stopped. Now that Nigel Bach is back to telling one cohesive story, Undead is all wise-cracking Tom, all the time. It starts out a little slow, as we get a fair amount of Jackson and Tom just running around trying to avoid the zombies and figure out what the hell is going on. This is all shot outside near Steelmanville Road, but not at the house, since at the end of Benign it was revealed to have a new owner. Bach, ever the master of the do-it-yourself horror film, does a good job compensating for the fact that there’s traffic driving up and down all the roads they travel as they try to get back to Jackson’s studio – “Are we the only ones who know what’s going on?” they keep asking themselves, which is a simple but clever move – I can’t tell you how many low budget horror films have neglected to acknowledge the normal daily traffic zooming around in what’s supposed to be the apocalypse. Nigel Bach can’t stop the traffic, but he will sure as hell quip about it. And quip he does. It’s all quite meta.

It takes about 20 minutes of wandering around outside and filming themselves talking about what might be going on before they make their way into Jackson’s studio, and Tom’s quips aside it’s a bit of a slow start. Still, there are some good bits in here, such as when Tom calls the cops and tries to tell them they’re being attacked by zombies, but they hang up on him. Jackson rightly points out that he shouldn’t be talking zombies with the police – just say we’re being chased by something else, he suggests, otherwise, they won’t take him seriously – so Tom calls the cops back and quips: “Hello police? We’ve got hummingbirds!” For some reason, this really cracks me up. They also find an abandoned campsite with a severed hand, and a note inside a backpack from the victim’s wife, telling whoever this poor dead dude is not to wear his earbuds too much and to have a good time. “Well, he’s not listening to his earbuds anymore,” Tom tells the camera, then looks at the severed hand. “Or his wedding ring, apparently.”

Things kick in soon enough, once the guys change clothes and pick up Jackson’s assistant, Mitch. They stumble into a zoo, of all places, and film different animals until a zombie pops up in one of the cages. It’s odd, but clearly, Bach got permission to film inside a zoo and was not going to pass that up. Either that, or they snuck into a zoo and were determined to shoot as much footage as they could while they were there. Either way, the zombie in the cage is a pretty good scare, as is the moment when several zombies are shuffling towards them and Tom says, “They’re slow-moving…that’s the good thing,” and a VERY fast-moving zombie bursts out from behind the shufflers to attack the camera. Heh.

They make it out of the zoo and walk right into a cemetery, where Tom gets the brilliant idea to dig up a body and try to “test” what’s up with the wandering undead situation. Jackson is, obviously, against this idea, and when Tom asks Mitch what he thinks, the face Jackson gives him to encourage him to back up his assessment that this is a bad idea is pretty funny:

So yeah, Mitch agrees with Jackson.

Soon enough, another zombie attack sends them on their way without any graverobbing, and then they’re resting in the woods after giving it the slip while Mitch takes a shit in the woods. Hey, I’m just telling you what the movie says, don’t blame me. Anyway it’s here that we get our first big chunk of contributor shoutouts, in the form of social media comments that get posted as Jackson updates his podcast. They read the names first, then the comments, which are mostly insults aimed at Tom, although a few attack Jackson also. Once that’s out of the way, Mitch reappears and off they go again. I can’t help but notice that Mitch is wearing some seriously weird pants – are they cropped? Super long shorts? Capris? I cannot say.

Another zombie comes along, and Tom, true to form, is tired of running. He fights the zombie instead, and after he throws it to the ground Jackson puts a go-pro on its head. They send him on his way, content that they can track its progress in the hopes it leads them to some sort of clues. Tom is chafing and wishes he had baby powder. Heh. Mitch says he might know someone who can help them, and sends a text to his ex-girlfriend. She doesn’t text him back – instead, she poofs into the forest in a puff of smoke. Turns out it’s the witch from Haunted Highway who cut off a dude’s head then carried it into Tom’s Drop-U-Off ride. And what do you know – the headless dude was Mitch. He was into that sort of thing for a while, but he got over it. She doesn’t understand why he ghosted her, because she did reattach his head and everything. And she’s wearing the same style of baggy ankle pants as Mitch, so I feel like they’d make a cute couple. Anyway, the witch has some info for the group – she knows that all the zombies are “fresh kills,” in other words, people who died recently. It’s not much of a clue, but it’s something, and after she eliminates two zombies by throwing fireballs at them, she promises to get back to them with more information and poofs away.

We are now exactly halfway through the movie, and here comes the hard part. The guys find an abandoned laptop and sit down on some tree stumps to have a look. There’s a video file on it showing a burly man named Tony Ponzetti, who works at that cemetery, and he’s discovered some strange things going on with the dead bodies, and he’s going to talk about them. He proceeds to show a grave, then a photo of that same grave all dug up and empty. Then he tells the story about whose body was in the grave and how they died. Then he shows security footage of that body zombie-stomping through the cemetery late at night. Yep, you guessed it – this is Nigel Bach’s next contributor dump, and it’s LONG. The stories are funny, of course, and I’m sure if one of them were about me I’d love it. But I’m not one of them, and in spite of the humor and the clever device Bach has come up with here to include his donors, it slows the movie to a zombie-like crawl – especially since it goes on for 18 minutes. Still, a Wiccan who died while trying to sacrifice a black virgin goat and a woman who was killed by a street sweeper while she tried to retrieve a winning lottery ticket from a storm drain are amusing anecdotes; I just wish there had been more variety in the way these deaths were presented.

Finally, Tony concludes his video by saying that the people who’ve risen from the dead all died within the last 12 months, adding some specificity to what the witch told them earlier about the fresh kills. Before they have too much time to ponder this, a zombie sneaks up on them out of the woods and they scatter. Tom falls into the campfire, which leads to him having to don a borrowed pastel peach half-shirt from this point forward. Hehe. Tom explains that his body didn’t burn because he spent twelve months in hell so he can’t be burned. This triggers a thought for Jackson, who concludes that the spell he cast to bring Tom back to life in Eulogy must have brought every dead body that was twelve months old or less back to life as well.

The gang decides they’re hungry, so they walk back into town and find an abandoned restaurant. Inside, Tom finds some tarot cards, and tries to use them to get a clue about how they should proceed. But as soon as he lays out the cards, he starts talking in these strange tongues, that are basically just Tom’s voice slowed down while he speaks gibberish. It’s still pretty funny. As soon as he puts up the cards he can use his own voice again, and he relays that the cards sent him a message that he can’t trust someone around him. Both Jackson and Mitch swear that they’re trustworthy, and Tom seems to believe them. In another callback to Haunted Highway, the guys call Drop U Off to get a ride back to the house on Steelmanville Road, where they think the grimoire must be.

Once the guys are back at the house, we cut between footage of them looking for the grimoire in the dark, and scenes of the zombie with the go-pro on its head meeting up with other zombies as they wander through the woods. Eventually, Go Pro Zombie and all of his companions meet up with Mitch’s witch – the one who promised Tom she’d return with more information for him – and she tells them all it’s time to destroy Tom Riley. So she was the person he couldn’t trust.

As the zombies draw nearer, the three retreat to Tom’s shed to hide. Mitch mentions he needs to go #2 again, and Tom and Jackson complain about him trying to do so inside the shed. Mitch tells them it’s OK because he found an old book he’s going to use to wipe with, and of course it’s the grimoire. Hehe. The grimoire tells them that if they say the same spell Jackson cast to bring Tom back to life into the mirror, it will be reversed, stopping the zombies in their tracks. Unfortunately, it may kill Tom as well, but it’s a risk they have to take. Jackson reads the spell into the mirror, and all the zombies disappear. Suddenly, Tom groans and grabs his chest, falling to the ground. Jackson and Mitch are upset, but Tom soon pops up on his own, claiming he has a fainting goat disease. Heh.

They exit the shed and encounter the witch, who intends to kill Tom herself since he defeated her zombies. But Mitch offers to let her kill him instead if she will leave Tom alone, so she slashes off his head and disappears in a puff of smoke as Mitch’s headless body falls to the ground. Knowing that the last time the witch cut off Mitch’s head she eventually re-attached it, neither Jackson nor Tom are too concerned; in fact, they’re thrilled to have defeated the zombies and the witch on their own. “Is there anything I can’t conquer?” Tom boasts to Jackson. He’s faced everything at this point and always won, he says – well, except for aliens. And it’s at this point that a light shines down on them from above and zaps them into the sky. And just like that the next installment is up – Tom versus the aliens.

I have not had a chance yet to view Bad Ben: Alien Agenda, but when I do, you’ll most likely hear about it.

Heavy Rotation Horror: Suspiria (2018)

Anyone who attempted to re-make a beloved horror classic like Dario Argento’s 1977 original was bound to catch shit for taking it on (while I like the original, it never left a big impression on me; I much prefer the second film in his Three Mothers trilogy, Inferno) but Luca Guadagnino just said fuck it and re-worked the entire concept, keeping the barest of the original’s structure (a new girl moves to Berlin to join a dance company secretly run by witches) and pretty much telling a completely different story from there. To be honest, there’s not even much use in comparing the two, as the setup of the original Suspiria serves as inspiration for Guadagnino’s film, but nothing more.

If you can get past making comparisons or if you aren’t overly committed to the original, I think Suspiria is a breathtaking, enthralling film. Not everything works (dividing the movie into “acts” as if we are watching a theatre or dance performance is overly pretentious, and weaving in the sub-plot of Dr. Klemperer and his Holocaust-based trauma, as well as the 1977 hijacking of Lufthansa Flight 181 during the German Spring, weigh the film down unnecessarily) and many positive reviews mention how the movie baffles on first viewing but comes together after a second – which was my experience also. I was left feeling disappointed after the first watch, primarily by the third act, which came off as too much of a shift tonally, as well as awkward and unsatisfying. But there was so much going on in the first two acts that I loved that I was willing to give it a second try, where, sure enough, it all come together better – even though I still felt (and still feel) like the script bit off more than it needed to chew.

One of my main reasons for coming to love this film is how integral the element of dance is to the story. In the original, the ballet studio is a backdrop, a way to collect the witches together and get Susie, the protagonist, into the mix. In fact, that Susie is taken ill right away when she arrives, without performing much more than a few pirouettes before she gets hurried away to her room to recover. Not so 2018 Suspiria, where Susie Bannion (played by Dakota Johnson) performs an impressive audition and executes a stunning, impromptu lead performance that also serves to witchily punish a wayward company member in the movie’s most grisly, yet strangely gorgeous, body-horror scene before she needs to be carted away to recuperate. The movie has several extended dance sequences, including a full performance of the piece the company has been working on throughout the duration of the film, and a macabre performance during the gory, over-the-top climactic ritual. This is modern dance, powerful, primal, and purely female, as opposed to the traditional ballet of the original.

Femininity is central to this Suspiria. The dance company is entirely female, as is the staff who oversee the performances and living arrangements, which are dormitory-style. The only man with any presence in the story is Dr. Klemperer, who gets involved in the witchy dealings when one of his clients, a dancer for the company who has become convinced it’s run by witches who are trying to take over her body, disappears. But even Klemperer has a feminine twist up his tweedy sleeve – it’s actress Tilda Swinton in heavy disguise. Swinton is, as usual, rock-solid in this film in every form she takes. She plays Madame Blanc, the lead choreographer, artistic genius, and primary contact with the young dancers, as well Klemperer and, in the insane ritual scene, the diseased, grotesque Mother Markus, the company’s namesake. The first time I watched this, I knew something odd was up with Dr. Klemperer – he had the weirdest voice I’d ever heard – so I wasn’t totally surprised to find out Tilda played him. In fact, knowing it’s Tilda in male drag made me appreciate the character much more, because the director said he made that choice to keep the energy of the set entirely female, even with a male character in the mix.

The same person. Yep.

But just because the environment is entirely female doesn’t mean it’s free from struggles for power and control. While the dancers who live there feel like family, and Susie is welcomed with surprisingly open arms by all of the girls as well as the staff, there’s something off about this place from the start. There’s the sudden overnight exit of Patricia, Dr. Klemperer’s patient, whose room Susie will be taking; the nightmares Susie has each night, as well as the admission from the other dancers that they too had terrible dreams when first joining the company; and there’s the outburst from Patricia’s friend, Olga, who basically calls the dance instructors witches to their faces.

Patricia. Don’t get too attached to her.

There’s also the odd bond Susie has with Madame Blanc, who is not the founder of the dance studio but appears to be its heart. While it seems clear Blanc sees herself in Susie – who manages to gain acceptance to the company when they are not holding auditions, and who manages to take over Patricia’s lead role in the piece the company is rehearsing when no other girl is able to do it – she also appears pained by Susie’s rapid ascendence to principal dancer in a way that suggests something darker is afoot here.

What that something is seems evident from the start – before she disappeared, Patricia confided to Dr. Klemperer that the dance company had something more nefarious going on underneath the surface, that she believed Mother Markos was trying to get inside of her. Patricia’s name comes up regularly among the women who run the company, with intimations that some ritual they included her in went awry, and it’s not a stretch to conclude that the ritual they discuss is, in fact, one that will project Mother Markos – the founder of the dance company – into another body, just as Patricia feared. It’s also not a stretch to conclude that Susie’s incredible instinct as a dancer as well as her innate ability to conjure up some seriously dark magic – although the extent to which Susie is aware of how the movements of her body are used by the coven to exact harsh punishment on Patricia’s friend Olga remains unclear- makes her the ideal candidate.

Olga. Don’t get too attached to her.

One of the elements that is interesting to watch during the film’s long runtime is the role-switching Madame Blanc and Susie engage in throughout. At times, Susie is, as one would expect, the ingenue who needs the guidance of Blanc’s fierce creativity and drive; while at others, Blanc wavers in her resolve to do as has been dictated by the coven, based on her affection for Susie; at such times Susie is the one whose confidence and surety reassure the Madame that everything is going to be all right. Of course, the audience knows, or thinks it knows, that Susie keeps saying this out of ignorance; surely she has no idea what the company really has in store for her, and is merely comforting Madame Blanc over what she thinks is the choreographer’s uncertainty about her ability to meet the demands of a principal dancer in what is undeniably a difficult piece.

And yet…there’s something unnerving about Susie’s calm, quietly assured manner throughout her time with the dance company. Through flashbacks and a conversation with Blanc, we learn that she ran away from her Mennonite family in Ohio, where she was homeschooled by a mother who despised her and considered her to be something more than a disobedient child; on her deathbed (she has slowly been dying of cancer throughout the course of the film) she refers to Susie as “my sin I smeared on the world.” We get no further information about that, but the mother motif connects Susie’s mother to Mother Markos of the dance company. While Markos refers to herself as Mother Suspiriorum (the Mother of Sighs), both Markos and Susie’s mother can be heard at different moments breathing heavily, as if sighing in pain and anguish – Markos’s pain at having to live in an ancient, diseased body, and Susie’s mother’s pain enduring the end of her relatively young life in a body riddled by cancer. There’s more sighing afoot throughout the film – when the dance company performs, the girls all breathe and sigh heavily, almost in unison, and Susie’s breathing is dominant in her audition, which seems to draw Madame Blanc from the rehearsal room into the tiny studio where Susie is performing.

There are other sounds that recur as audible motifs throughout the film: the haunting sound of the music composition rewinding in the studio echoes the sound of Dr. Klemperer’s recordings of Patricia’s therapy sessions being rewound. The dancers, as well as the staff, often burst into laughter at the oddest moments, and for no apparent reason – when Olga calls the women who run the company witches, several of the women burst out laughing; gaggles of girls whisper and giggle together in corners, and there are several times throughout the film where one character or another simply bursts into laughter as they leave a room, again, for no apparent reason we can ascertain. I’ve given this element of the film a lot of thought over the years, and I think I finally came up with an explanation for it that I’m satisfied with: I think this constant giggling and whispering on the part of the young girls and the older women represents the mystical, unique bond they share as a functioning unit. Most of the time, this laughter comes off as if the amused are sharing a secret, one we are never privy to but that seems to be held by everyone in the company. Susie, however, seems removed from this gossipy giggling – not engaging with it, but not bothered by it either. From the moment she arrives at the company, Susie manages to both fit in and stay distant at the same time.

Much like Madame Blanc, who has challenged Mother Markos for control of the company, and is therefore at a remove from the other staff. Early on in the movie, we witness a vote being taken, although it is done entirely through telepathy, with the women moving about the building’s kitchen, preparing breakfast for their morning meal while their voices call out for either Markos or Blanc. It’s Markos who wins, which means another dancer’s body must be prepared for her to use as her own; it’s unclear how long she’s been existing in her current one, but when she appears in the movie’s climactic scene it’s clear there’s nothing left of it but tumors and rot. Madame Blanc rightly points out that if Markos really was who she claims to be – one of the Three Mothers, ancient witches who rule different parts of the globe – there would be no need to keep channeling her spirit into different dancers, but once the tally is taken, Blanc is forced to go along. As much as she dislikes the idea, she must choose another dancer for Mother Markos to use.

It’s this tension that propels the film forward as the company rehearses for their final performance of Blanc’s celebrated piece “Volk” (“folk”). We know that by volunteering herself to dance Patricia’s lead, Susie has unwittingly offered herself up as some sort of sacrifice for Mother Markos; we also know that Madame Blanc is increasingly unhappy about this but is either unable or unwilling to stop it from happening. In one scene near the climax of the film, Blanc visits Susie in her room at night, communicating with her telepathically that she wants to explain to Susie what she’s gotten herself into, but feels that she can’t – we can assume that is because of her loyalty to the coven, but it’s also clear that Blanc is out of her element with the whole situation; she knows what’s happening feels wrong, but the idea that it’s simply because she cares for Susie doesn’t quite explain her unease. It’s another situation where Susie takes on the mothering role, reassuring Blanc that everything is fine and there’s no need to worry. But does Susie really know what the company has in store for her? She never says anything to indicate that she does; she just exudes this confident certainty that reveals her willingness to accept whatever fate awaits her. She is truly Not Bothered.


There are other characters here who factor greatly into the overall story; Mia Goth plays Sarah, the dancer who befriends Susie the day she arrives at the company. Sarah was also good friends with Patricia, and her worry over her disappearance propels her into the heart of the darkness that lies beneath the dance troupe’s surface. She tries to track Patricia down at the same time Dr. Klemperer, Patricia’s therapist, is also trying to find her; once the two meet and compare notes Patricia’s disappearance becomes more ominous. Sarah takes to sneaking around the building at night, looking for clues, which leads her to the home of the coven hidden underground, beneath the studio. She has to sneak away quickly in order to remain undetected, but Sarah sees enough to convince herself that Olga wasn’t playing when she called Madame Blanc and the others witches.

So Sarah becomes the second person to be concerned about Susie’s position in the company. She begins to connect Patricia’s experiences as the principal dancer to Susie’s – the way Blanc seemed to groom her for something beyond a dance performance, the way Patricia’s dancing seemed to improve magically and exponentially once Blanc’s attention shone down on her, and of course, the way Patricia, in the end, disappeared without a trace. She fears the same for Susie, but when approached Susie replies with the same sense of calm and confidence that she shows Madame Blanc. She’s not worried about anything, and she knows it’s all going to be fine. Sarah disagrees.

As it turns out, “Volk,” the dance the troupe has been rehearsing, is much more than a complex and beautiful performance piece. It’s a ritual that will cast Susie’s soul out of her body and replace it with that of Mother Markos, who is literally rotting under the floorboards of the studio. All Susie has to do is lead the troupe through the moves as choreographed, and Mama Markos is good to go. But Susie has other ideas. She argues against some of Blanc’s moves, arguing that she should stay grounded, closer to the floor instead of leaping into the air as early on in the performance as Blanc has staged it. Won’t it make the leaps more effective if they come later in the piece? she asks, leading Blanc to criticize her lack of understanding about the conditions under which the piece was originally created. It was written at a time when Germany wanted women to submit to their men, shut their mouths, create good German babies, and support the war. Leaving the earthly plane of an oppressive reality and leaping into the ether was a necessity back then, for women, to survive. We need to get you into the air, Blanc says, but Susie’s not convinced. The war is over, and the company is living in the past. Susie’s pushback against Blanc’s signature piece reveals another division within the company: those who are still stuck in the past, and those who want to move forward. Susie doesn’t feel the need to escape from the world or leap into some other, ethereal realm; she wants to stay grounded in the world as is.

Blanc, of course, also represents this division as the person who challenges Markos’s authority, as are those who vote for her over the decrepit MM (which is its own representation of a past that has hung around too long). But the strength of these women – or witches, let’s just say it – falters as soon as their challenge is defeated. They’re too loyal, too connected to the history of the coven to break free of it and forge a new direction. There are hints of it, such as when Blanc starts choreographing a new piece for the company, but even then, she allows Susie to improvise her part rather than directing her movements. It’s possible the company cannot move forward without Susie, that Blanc needs her to help guide them in a new direction, but as the audience knows, the presence of Markos makes this impossible. As long as she is in the picture, Susie’s doomed, and the company appears destined to stay stuck in the past.

Mama Markos. There’s no doubt Susie’s body would be an improvement.

Cut to the day of the “Volk” performance. Susie preps with a seriousness and calm which indicates she knows something’s at stake, but how much she knows is still a mystery. It’s hard to believe she would actually be okay with having her soul cast out of her body, but it’s clear her instincts are elsewhere, and she’s too opaque to decipher at this point. Unfortunately, Sarah has decided to take advantage of the company’s distraction with the show to go back into the depths of the building and try to find Patricia, whom she is convinced is being held captive somewhere down below. When it’s time for the show to go on, Sarah is nowhere to be found – something Susie definitely makes note of – but go on the show must, and the dancers take the stage without her.

Sarah probably would have been better off sticking with the performance, though – she finds Patricia all right, but she’s zombified in some state of undead, suspended animation. She tells Sarah that Mama Markos visits her every night, feeding off of her energy (and quite possibly her body; it’s unclear), and soon other bodies in various states of decomposition and mutilation start to crawl out of the shadows, calling Sarah’s name, begging for help. It’s pretty awful.

Sarah really struggled at first to believe that such a warm, loving place that has always felt like family to her could really be this horrid under the surface. It’s a struggle I experience when watching the movie, too. There’s no doubt that Blanc is a loving presence who cares for the girls (to a point, at least) and that the dancers themselves are a tight unit. The way they welcome Susie with open arms reinforces the impression of the company as a safe, supportive space for women, just as one of the matrons tells Susie once she’s accepted. It’s this warmth and welcoming that makes what’s later revealed feel like such a deep, disappointing betrayal; on the surface, this appears to be the perfect nurturing environment for these talented young women, and many of the matrons themselves are conflicted by their desire to provide that for them, but they’re unwilling to challenge the power structure that has protected them for so long, and ultimately they all choose their own security over that of the girls in their charge. It’s…the wrong decision.

Take Sarah, for example. She is kind, and caring, and she loves the dance company like her own family. But her foray into the bowels of the building crosses a line, and she must be punished. It’s significant that Blanc is the one to mete out the punishment here – as Markos’s former challenger, she’s the one most likely to protect Sarah over the coven’s secrets. But she does not. Even Blanc bows to the perceived power of old MM in the end, and she orchestrates the same sort of grisly fate for Sarah that the other undead bodies in the basement have endured. So long, Sarah. We barely knew ya.

But not before they send her zombified body back to the dance floor to complete the ritual. Every dancer must be present and perform their part if the ritual is going to work, and once Sarah returns it’s Susie’s turn to recognize that something is not right. What she knows is unclear – but everyone can see that Sarah’s not okay. Susie throws the performance off by improvising instead of sticking to the steps, which breaks the spell, and Sarah suddenly falls to the floor, screaming in pain. The matrons rush forward to carry her off (So long, Sarah. We barely knew ya) and bring up the lights. Ritual interrupted. Performance over.

Blanc tries to chastise Susie for breaking the spell, but what she really wants to do is prepare her for what’s coming. She wants to tell her everything, but she feels like it would be wrong. Susie comforts her, tells her she knows Blanc loves her, but the conversation ends on an ominous note: Why is everyone so quick to assume that the worst is over? Susie posits to Mme Blanc. It’s unclear who she’s talking about, unclear which one of them is making this incorrect assumption, but Susie’s not yet confident enough to express her own thoughts without looking to Blanc for validation. It’s all a mess, isn’t it? she asks Blanc. The world out there, the world in here. She’s right, of course, but Blanc is unwilling to spill the dancing beans. The most she can do is ensure Susie a night of sleep unbroken by disturbing dreams.

I’m not getting into the dreams here. Maybe I’ll do it in another post.

So OK, things are about to go off the rails, and keep in mind there’s a lot I’m not digging into here. I’ve barely mentioned the plight of Dr. Klemperer – and honestly did anybody miss him? – but he’s been searching for Patricia ever since her disappearance, to the point of contacting the police. The witches know he’s the one who’s tipped off the cops, and even though they pose no threat as the matrons simply cast a spell on them and send them away, they decide to up the stakes of the next ritual by including “a witness.” They have an idea that this will help seal the deal and make for a smooth transition from Markos to Susie – as if punishing the outside world for intruding will help. It won’t.

Turns out the girls are going to have to perform “Volk” again, and soon, because Mama M can’t wait much longer for a new body. The old one is looking ROUGH, y’all. So, the witches enchant the dancers at night, bringing them into the secret chambers of their coven where they will perform again while under their spell. The lack of a costume isn’t the only thing different about this performance; it’s decidedly more wild and animalistic in nature, and it indicates the level of desperation Markos has sunk to at this point. She needs this shit to go down, pronto.

One dancer has not been summoned though: Susie is still upstairs in her room. She dresses for the ceremony with intention and makes her way down the stairs into the chamber on her own – again, it’s as if she knows what’s coming, and she’s okay with it. Once she enters the chamber, though, the color palette of the film makes an immediate shift: everything, and everyone, is now bathed in a deep red the color of blood, and it will stay that way for the duration of the ceremony. I think it’s a nod to the garish colors of the original since elsewhere the film remains awash in muted, earthy tones.

Blanc is there, also swathed in red, and Mama Markos looks like the world’s biggest molehill with eyes. Blanc stops Susie as she enters the room, and implores Markos to wait. Something’s wrong, she says to MM, can’t you feel it? But at this point, Markos can’t feel anything except her own bones disintegrating, because faster than you can say “Volk” she’s hit Blanc with some kind of magic that almost decapitates her. Blood spurts everywhere. Consider that a preview, because something’s going on with Susie while Blanc’s being relieved of her head.

She’s standing at the top of the stairs, breathing heavily but peacefully. Actually, she’s not just breathing – she’s sighing. Slowly, in an extended moment of utter weirdness, she reaches down and digs into her own chest, prying it open to reveal – a mouth? A vagina? It’s unclear to me what it is, but it ain’t normal, and it seems clear that Susie is the real Mother of Sighs reborn, which portends dark things for the fake Mama who’s sitting in the corner. Sure enough, a literal manifestation of death emerges from some even deeper space within the chamber, like some grisly familiar of Susie’s, and proceeds to blow the heads off every matron who supported Markos instead of Blanc. Unfortunately, Blanc’s head is hanging on like the tip of a Pez dispenser at this point, so she’s far from spared.

According to the credits, the woman who played Susie’s Mennonite mother also plays Death here, which seems significant but I’m not gonna get into it because I’ve already gone on way too long.

Still bathed in red light, along with a LOT of blood, Susie makes her way down into the chamber where all the enchanted girls are still dancing feverishly. Sarah, Patricia, and the other sacrificed girls have been brought into the room, and Susie approaches each one, asking them what they want from her. One by one they all ask to die, which, I get it, but since she’s asking, why not ask to be brought back to life with an undamaged body? I guess that’s not an option, and Susie asking them what they want is just a formality. She takes particular care with Sarah, embracing her gently as she releases her to death. Susie then instructs the rest of the girls to keep dancing, as she finds them beautiful. It would appear that, as Mother Suspiriorum, Susie may just be a different kind of witch.

Mme Blanc. Don’t get too attached to her.

With the phony Mother disposed of, as well as her supporters, there’s not much more for Susie/MotherSuspiriorum to do but clean up – literally and figuratively. She leaves the actual cleanup of the disastrously bloody chamber to the matrons who were spared – Susie may have allowed them to live, but she hasn’t completely forgiven them their transgressions, either. After all, they all played a part in the deaths of Patricia, Olga, and Sarah, as well as who even knows how many others, so they’re not out of the cauldron yet. In fact, as they clean up the muck, one of them discovers that Mme Blanc, while almost completely decapitated, is still alive – just like the other dancers were after rituals that went awry. I guess it’s Blanc’s turn to rot away in the basement in a state of mutilation, while Susie does what with her, exactly? Who knows. It would seem she’s kept her in this state for a reason, but it’s also possible it’s some punishment exacted on her by Markos’s magic that can’t be undone.

The dancers, for their part, have no recollection of what happened the night before, so imagine their shock when they are told that Mme Blanc has left the company. One of the surviving matrons tells them this, not Susie, and it’s unclear how the troupe will function moving forward. There’s no doubt that losing Blanc is a huge loss, as she was the heart of the company, but we’ve already heard Susie say she wants to be the company’s hands, so my guess is she will guide them well. And as we’ve already seen, there’s a good chance she won’t be making the same mistakes – indeed, since she is the real Mother of Sighs, there will be no need for more dancer sacrifice. So alls well that ends well, I guess.

There’s also Klemperer to deal with – the psychiatrist who was forced to be a “witness” to all that madness in the blood-red chamber. He’s had one hell of a shock as you can imagine, so the final scene shows Susie, now fully grown into her role as Mother, visiting him at his home. She apologizes for what he was forced to watch – she was not yet in a position to control what happened in the coven, and she could not prevent it. As a sort of backhanded gift to him, she waves her hand over his eyes and erases not just all memory of that horrible night, but his memory of all the women he’s ever known, including his long-dead wife whose disappearance during the war he still mourns. We need guilt, doctor, she tells him, and shame. But not yours. Susie’s right about the dance company – a little guilt and shame would have prevented the coven from sacrificing their dancers and being misled by a phony Mother, lessons it appears Susie has learned and intends to correct. But the company is still an insular world by necessity, so Klemperer’s memories of it have got to go. And while she’s at it, Susie removes his memories of his lost wife too – dude’s been through a lot between losing his wife, searching for Patricia, and then watching a witchy ritual gone bloodily awry, so Susie clears the slate and moves on. Like everything else, there are two sides to this action – sure, he no longer will suffer painful memories from his past, but he won’t recall the good ones, either. There’s always a price, after all, and Susie will still have to make hard choices to keep the coven alive, but as long as she stays grounded (as she wanted to do with “Volk”) there’s hope that she can lead without causing too much damage.

But wait – as if there wasn’t enough packed into the movie’s three-hour runtime, we get a post-credits snippet showing Susie outside, in the bitter cold of a dark night. All we see is a tight shot of her face as she reaches out with one hand to do – something we don’t see. She reveals the slightest hint of a sly smile, before glancing to her right, looking back at whatever she’s just touched again, and then walking away. There’s no clear explanation out there as to what this means, but I like to think it’s Susie locking the doors of the dance company building one final time. With Blanc gone, and Susie’s desire to move the company forward, it would make sense for them to move elsewhere and start afresh. That may be more hopeful than other interpretations, but personally I like to think that the superficial warmth and kindness of the coven’s previous existence could be manifested in a more honest and real way. It also hints at sequels, something the director discussed when the film came out, but not having heard anything about that since 2018 doesn’t bode well, so for now my interpretation will have to do. Or come up with your own – after all, I’m not your Mother.

So long, Susie – the Mother we never had.

Summer Update

Up here in Nacogdoches, we managed to escape the blistering heat a little while longer than down in Houston. Until about midway through June we could still sit outside on the porch in the mornings and evenings, but that’s over for now. Now, it is brutally hot here just like everywhere else, and Nac is an outdoor sort of town, so a lot of the things we want to go do and see have to wait until it cools off.

Taken before the heat kicked in

My sister came up for a visit a few weeks ago, and to be honest, it was kind of weird. I don’t think I was ready to open the place up to others yet, if that makes sense. I’m a pretty introverted, homebody kind of person, so entertaining really isn’t my thing. Usually I can handle it when it’s family, but I just wasn’t ready to entertain someone yet – especially since I really don’t yet know what my “places” will end up being yet. I was still trying things out that I’d never experienced, and taking her along, with mixed results as you can imagine. We still had fun hanging around the house and watching the rabbits and deer (as well as a lot of TV in the sunroom) but I felt kind of exhausted when she left. I think it’s just not yet time to be having company as we are both still wrapping our heads around the fact that we live in the country now. It’s a huge change from living in one of the largest cities in the nation to a small town. It’s a wonderful change, to be sure, and I haven’t regretted it one bit, but it’s going to take time for me to embrace the novelty of it to the point that I want to share it with others. I guess that sounds selfish, but I’ve never been a let’s-throw-a-housewarming-party kind of gal, and I guess I need more time here with just Doug before I’m ready to share.

I attempted, before it got too hot, to take some levitation photos outside, with mixed results. I’ve always wished I lived in an environment where I could take self portraits outside in some interesting location as a set piece, but I don’t know how to do it properly. I am so used to working with studio lighting and a totally controlled environment (with the exception of plane photos), so when things don’t look right while taking outdoor shots, I am clueless as to how to fix it. It’ll take a while to learn, and for now it’s too hot to even try.

And by the way, overalls are even more unflattering than I thought

Also, we’ve discovered that a doe has hunkered two fawns back in our woods, and if we go anywhere near them they take off and disappear for several days. I’m sure they’re fine and they clearly are comfortable in the area, so they have several locations around here where they can safely hang out, but we certainly don’t want to scare them off forever, so we’re staying off our walking trails for the moment. I haven’t gotten any decent pictures of them yet, because unlike back in Houston I still haven’t set up a camera that’s ready to go at all times (something I need to hurry up and do as deer and rabbits provide nice photo opportunities regularly – sometimes right outside my window) so I’ve had to settle for phone photos which have been pretty crappy.

Part of our trail

As a fashion and makeup fanatic, I will say that so far I haven’t seen much that’s going to tempt me in those areas around town. We have a Belk store, which is basically a Kohl’s under a different name, and some boutiques with names like Glamour and Guns that all sell the same rayon dresses and rhinestone-embellished jeans. Suffice it to say I am not going to be tempted to go out and spend a lot of money on clothes like I was in Houston. Thank the gods for online shopping, right?

I will say, though, that there is an EXCELLENT Goodwill in the historic downtown area – it’s probably the nicest Goodwill I’ve ever been in. Super-clean and organized, with hardwood floors and everything. It looks nothing like the Goodwill that was right by our house in Houston, and it’s a great resource for photography costumes. In fact, once it became clear it was too hot to take shots outside, Doug and I stopped by there a few weeks ago and I picked up some things to wear for photos. I’d also bought a few wigs from Sams Beauty online, so last Sunday I set up my office for studio shots and took some pictures.

I also put on a full face of photography/drag makeup, which I have not done in forever. Since I’ve gotten so good at adding makeup in post, I’d gotten to a point where I quit putting a lot on because it takes at least half an hour to do, but in looking over old photos there’s no denying that the best sets always involve me wearing full makeup, and really, it’s not like I am pressed for time up here. Plus, it was quite fun to go through the whole process, and since my office here is a bit smaller than my old one in Houston, and the light is better, I actually didn’t have to set up a bunch of my lighting equipment to get good shots, which saved both time and space. You’d be shocked if you saw how tiny the room is where I take these photos, and just how cramped into a little space I am when posing – it’s kind of ridiculous, but hey, it works.

I also have a blonde wig like the one above that transitions from blonde to blue, and I found this awesome old 60’s style blazer with big lapels that’s bright blue with white polka dots, so I’ll be taking pics of that outfit at some point in the near future. Overall I was pleased with how many good shots I got out of this shoot, so that makes me optimistic for the next one. It’s good to know that even though my office is smaller I can still pull off a good photo session, and can do it without having to set up as much lighting as I had to do at home.

It’s also good to know that at 54 I can still pull off a good drag look. Obviously, these are processed, and my drag makeup in person would not pass ANY drag queen tests, but for photos and with a little bit of digital magic I can still pull off a good selfie. I am always drawn towards photos in a set that look as little like me as possible; since I only work with my own face I’m always looking for expressions or poses that I haven’t done before, which is still possible after all these years as my face changes, so hey, a positive side of aging! Take, for example, this photo I took well over ten years ago:

This was probably taken in 2011 or 2012, and I had barely any makeup on at all. I definitely look a lot younger here, and it’s wild that I’ve been taking selfies long enough to make the comparison, but I’d say the source material is holding up as I get older. That may sound conceited, but I don’t really give a damn. Since I don’t like working with other people when it comes to what I consider art more than traditional photography, well, it’s good to know I’m still a pretty good subject to photograph. I’ll definitely be sharing more selifies soon, for anyone who cares. 🙂

Old Horror, New Fave: The Other (1972) (SPOILERS!!!)

What’s the horror: ghosts and weird kids

Does the dog die? Death toll is one rat and possibly one cat, but neither are particularly upsetting

Gore factor: None

Re-watch scale: This one is somewhere in the middle for me. I’ll watch it on occasion, but it is pretty slow, so I don’t revisit it often. Still, it’s a great hidden gem for its time.

The horror movie The Other, made in 1972 and based on the novel of the same name by the actor Tom Tryon, generated some negative feedback when it came out for taking liberties with the text. I’ve not read the novel so I can’t speak to that, but there is some interesting trivia I can offer up before we get into the film. First of all, Tryon had quite an acting career back in the day, with tons of TV and movie credits to his name, although I don’t think he was the star in most of them. He did receive a Golden Globe nomination for his leading turn in The Cardinal in 1963, but his work with the renowned asshole director Otto Preminger almost did him in, and he never could stand to watch the movie. By 1969, Tryon was disillusioned enough with acting to try his hand at being a writer and made a name for himself as a novelist and film financier.

Another interesting bit of trivia is that the twins who played Holland and Niles Perry, Chris and Martin Udvernoky, never made another movie. Seems a shame, since they do a bang-up job in this film of being creepy and crazy while also oddly innocent and sensitive. I’m not sure why they never did any more acting work; apparently, Chris Udvernoky worked as an EMT until he died in 2010 while Martin works as a massage therapist somewhere.

The only other trivia I’ll mention is that the renowned Uta Hagen played the grandmother in the film, and as far as acting goes it doesn’t get much better than Uta. She, however, also hated the film, and I’m pretty sure she called it a trash movie in an interview sometime later. She felt she was signing on for a Gothic thriller, and was shocked when the final edit changed the tone of the film to what she felt was cheap horror (Tryon, who wrote the screenplay, said basically the same thing). And oh wait! One more little bit of trivia I’ll toss out here – The Other also had a young, little-known actor in a minor role who would go on to massive fame in the 80s:

Why yes, that is John Ritter playing husband Rider to the young Jenny Sullivan, aka Torrie, who was a sister to Niles and Holland. Oh, and Victor French is in it too, for anyone who remembers him.

SPOILERS AHEAD! DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW

Set during the Great Depression, the story begins with a glowy, surreal shot of Niles kneeling in a clearing in the woods. It’s a gorgeous shot, that pushes in slowly to reveal Niles sitting stock still, and wearing a large ring on one finger. He hears the leafy crunch of footsteps and looks around warily while birds trill from the trees. A twig snaps, and Niles leaps up, runs away, and hides inside an old sewer pipe, yanking the ring off his finger and placing it inside a tin cigarette box (this box and its contents will keep the Foley director quite busy for the immediate duration; it rattles like a chandelier store during an earthquake). Soon we hear whistling, then a pounding on the old pipe, then Holland pokes his head inside and clicks his wooden toy gun in Niles’s direction and takes off.

Holland and Niles come across the property of a woman they call Old Lady Rowe, who is outside beating a rug hung over a clothesline. The actress is Portia Nelson, whom I know nothing about except for the fact that she looks MAYBE forty years old in this movie, yet they’ve stuck a bad gray wig on her and expected the audience to buy that she’s a crotchety old woman. Holland tells Niles to keep watch as he sneaks over to a cabinet in her barn that houses all sorts of canned and pickled things; he goes to retrieve one of the jars and accidentally knocks another one off the shelf, which loudly crashes to the ground. Then we’re all subjected to a quaint, 1930’s-style old-fashioned neighbor-beating, as Rowe uses the stick she was whacking the rug with to beat the crap outta Niles, who she keeps calling Holland by mistake. “I’m not Holland, I’m Niles!” the kid yells stupidly, obviously not realizing he could’ve just let Old Lady Rowe think he’s Holland so that his brother got in all the trouble, but no matter, OLR retorts with the timely “I don’t care if you’re FDR, the dirty Democrat!” and yanks him by the ear into the barn to clean up the mess, only to freak out and run away at the sight of rats eating the pickerel or whatever it is that’s been flung onto the dirty floor.

So there you go – Niles and Holland are twins who run around and basically act like kids, annoying old ladies and shooting each other with fake weapons while sweating profusely in the Connecticut summer. When OLR tells Niles she’s gonna tattle on them to his father, Holland quips “Someone needs to remind her Dad’s dead,” before dashing off into the light of day again. So, there’s that bit of exposition covered. OLR is pretty dotty, can’t tell a Holland from a Niles, and can’t even remember that her neighbor died tragically a year ago. That might matter later.

Holland seems to be the ringleader of the two; more mischievous and bold than the follower Niles, who does what Holland asks and tends to get caught while Holland manages to stay under the radar. Soon the still-running duo dashes into a barn where Winnie, who I believe is some sort of housekeeper, is also working a clothesline, looking like an absolute poster woman for the Depression era, sackcloth dress, sagging bra strap, and all:

Niles does hear her, and he runs to the front yard where his Uncle George is cranking up a car, as one does. Aunt Vee and Uncle George have a horrid son named Russell who specializes in shouting out awful rhymes based on Niles’ name – probably because both Niles and Holland have a tendency to call him Piggy Lookadoo instead of Russell. That might matter later.

We do get a lot of swell old terms throughout the film; we’re eight minutes in and have already heard repeated yowsahs and one cripes, so imagine my surprise when Holland calls Old Lady of the Rowe a bitch – that Holland, he’s so naughty! Niles dashes off to the house to fetch John Ritter, aka Rider, for his Uncle George. He confidently tells his sister Jenny that her baby is going to be a girl, then Jenny tells Rider about how Niles can successfully predict storms without the benefit of a meteorologist. Wanna know if those dark clouds mean tornadoes or hail? Ask Niles! But not before Jenny lets him “tune in” to her baby by putting his ear to her belly and proclaiming once again that yowsah, it’s gonna be a girl. “You witch,” Jenny says to him playfully, and all I can say is, watch your back Jenny.

Winnie starts to carry a tray upstairs, only to have Jenny take it from her and offer to take it up to “Alexandra” herself instead. Winnie snatches the morning paper out from under Jenny’s arm before she goes up, telling her that the news will “only upset her.” I feel you, Alexandra. The daily news has that effect on me too. Niles tells Jenny to relay to Mother that he’ll be up to read to her later, which seems like it should be the other way around, but obviously, Mom is fragile. And possibly never leaves her room.

Off goes Niles into the apple cellar, where Holland is still hiding out in the dark. Thinking, apparently, about mean Old Lady Rowe. That’s probably not good. Niles pulls the ring out of his cigarette tin and asks Holland for reassurance that it’s really his. Evidently, it’s an old family ring that belonged to their grandfather. When he died, it was passed to their father, and when he died, it was passed on to Holland, since he’s the oldest of the twins, even if it is only by twenty minutes. Anyway, Holland got it, and he gave it to Niles, and he promises he’ll never take it back from him because he doesn’t want it anyway. With that squared away, Niles pulls something else out of the tin – something small and wrapped in blue cloth, and asks who owns it. Holland tells him to put whatever it is away, and never mention it again or he’ll let Niles have it.

It’s about this time that ol’ Piggy Lookadoo comes bursting through the door, threatening to tell that the twins are hanging out in the apple cellar where they’re not supposed to be. True to form, Holland ducks under the stairs without getting caught, leaving Niles holding the ring and whatever the other thing is when Piggy catches him, tells him he’s not supposed to have the ring because it’s supposed to be buried with their dad (which definitely is not the story Holland gave to Niles) and that when Uncle George comes home, he’s gonna tell. Niles tries to give the ring and the thing back to Holland, who’s too smart for that shit, and Niles tucks the trinkets away.

Before the two leave the cellar, Niles flashes back to a scene of his father lugging a basket of apples down into the basement. We clearly see Holland’s, or maybe Niles’s, legs walk past the cellar entrance, and then, as Dad starts down the stairs, the door above him slams down hard, and Dad falls to the ground, hitting his head and, we can assume, dying. That’s – quite a flashback you had there, Niles. Wanna tell us a little more about it? No, he does not. Then, after Niles and Holland exit the cellar, Holland takes one of Russell’s pet rats out of its cage and squishes it to death (they don’t show it, and the fake dead rat we see is laughable). WTF with these two anyway? Niles is upset, and we cut to a scene of him burying the rat in a garden. He’s marked the spot with a little wooden cross, and as the camera cuts back we see way too many wooden crosses stuck in the ground. Damn, Holland’s a rat killer from way back.

And here’s Mom! Looks like Alexandra has come out to play. She steps onto a balcony and Niles goes loopy with joy. He rushes up the steps to where she stands, looking anything but comfortable to be there. She smiles and hugs Niles, who begs her to come into the garden with him, but she freezes when she sees a water well that has clearly been covered over. Soon Mom rushes back into the house, claiming she just can’t get up the courage to leave the house yet. But we know Dad died in the cellar, right? So what’s up with this defunct water well?

Troubled but STUNNING

Soon Niles is down by the lake, looking like he might go fishing, but he’s mostly just screwing around with that cigarette tin again, playing with the ring and whatever’s wrapped in that blue paper. Uta Hagen appears, in the form of Niles and Holland’s Russian grandmother, Ada. Niles is thrilled to see her, and rushes into her arms, which is kinda sweet. Where’s Holland? Ada wants to know, but Niles brushes the question off. Soon he’s asking Granny if they can play “the greatest game,” and Gran seems to know exactly what he’s talking about. So sure, let’s play.

The Game, as they call it, basically amounts to picking some living thing, in this case, a crow, and projecting your consciousness into it. It’s unclear if this is some real power Niles has, or if it’s just Ada encouraging his imagination to run wild and pretend he’s become the bird, but either way, we see Niles go into some weird trance and then start describing what it’s like to be the black crow as it flies over the farm. He doesn’t seem completely happy to be doing this, as he finds it scary and it seems to take a lot of concentration, but hey, he wanted to do it. Gran seems totally comfortable with The Game, encouraging him to become one with the bird. I mean, it’s the 1930s, so I guess kids didn’t have much else to do, but still, this is some weird shit.

Looks like fun, doesn’t it?

Niles, as the crow, flies over the crops, the farmhouse, and the barn. Then we cut to inside the barn, where Piggy Lookadoo aka Russell is shouting “I’m king of the mountain!” and preparing to jump from the barn’s loft into the hay below. Sounds awesome until he launches himself and immediately sees a huge metal rake sticking straight up out of the hay, in the exact spot where he’s about to land. Cut back to Niles, who suddenly leaves his trance while shouting in pain that he felt something sharp in his gut while we hear Russell’s screams in the background. Fast cut to a funeral, so in the Piggy Lookadoo vs. The Rake competition, The Rake won.

He’s not going to be King of the mountain for long

At the funeral, we see Victor French’s character blaming himself for Russell’s death. As the farmhand, he believes he’s probably the one who accidentally left the rake sticking straight up in the hay. This will matter later. Afterward, Niles goes up to his bedroom where Holland has already retired; they’re both wearing ties, shorts, and long socks, like little Depression-Era Lord Fauntleroys. Holland uses a slingshot to smash a mirror for no real reason and leaves, and Niles uses the opportunity to reveal what else is in that noisy-ass cigarette tin along with the peregrine ring: a human finger. So, there’s that mystery solved! It’s a very decayed, old, gray finger that looks like it’s been rattling around in that tin for some time, and the scene ends with a shot of Niles’s reflection in the shattered mirror, staring at the finger while we hear a crowd of people screaming in the background. The screaming turns out to be a crowd at a county fair, and off we go to the next scene.

Holland and Niles sneak into the freak show, and Holland in particular is obsessed with this weird-ass floating baby in a jar. We see Holland’s face through the distortion of the glass while Niles looks on; it’s a jarring juxtaposition (get it?) from the previous scene, where Niles’s shattered reflection is shown in the mirror. Going on imagery alone, I’d say we’ve got two seriously disturbed kids here. Niles decides to play “The Game” on the magician, who gives us our first 1930s-style taste of racism: it’s a white man with his eyes pulled back to look Chinese, with a fake Fu Manchu mustache and creepy eyebrows to boot. He’s doing a vanishing trick, which via The Game Niles sees is nothing but a trapdoor under the box his assistant just locked him into. What a phony, Niles says disdainfully, but again – did he really project into the magician’s mind, or did he just use his imagination to figure out the very obvious solution to the vanishing trick on his own? It’s unclear which it is, but when Niles tells Ada about it later, she’s concerned. There’s more to life than playing The Game, she tells him. She also tells him he needs other friends besides Holland, and I can’t disagree with her there, as they seem to bring out the worst in each other at the least, or are a rat-strangling, kid-impaling menace at the most. Niles blows her suggestion off and begs for Ada to sing to him. The neediness coming off this kid whenever adults are around is palpable.

Granny tells Niles that bad boys who terrorize Old Ladies Named Rowe have to apologize for the error of their ways, and they need to do it the next morning, in person. I’ll tell Holland, Niles says and leaves the room. The next morning, out Holland comes wearing a magician’s costume with a painted mustache on his face. Off we go to Old Lady Rowe’s place, where OLR is flat-out cranking the ragtime tunes on her piano. OLR’s got a wild side, y’all, I’m sure of it. Niles told me I had to come apologize, he tells her when she opens the door. She accepts, then invites him in. Bad idea, Miss Rowe. He tells her he can do magic tricks, which, given his getup, is a relief, and of course offers to perform one for OLR. She agrees, seemingly charmed by his enthusiasm.

If a kid ever does this to you after covering all your windows, run.

Then, in a twist on the ol’ watch-me-pull-a-rabbit-outta-my-hat routine, Holland takes off his hat to reveal – a rat. A big-ass rat that he waves in front of OLR’s face. He does this until she keels over in her chair. Because all women in their early forties have heart attacks when they see a rat. Oh wait, she’s supposed to be seventy. Whatever. Anyway, Rat = 1, OLR = 0.

Cut to Niles running (of course) into a church where Nana is sitting. Niles asks her why people have to die, and Ada gives him the answer you’d expect (every living thing has a time, etc etc). She tells Niles that a beautiful, smiling angel will come for him when it’s his time. She’ll fold her wings around him and carry him off to paradise forever. Hell, sign me up. This seems to placate Niles, especially after Nana points at the angel in the stained glass window of the church and tells him it’s an “angel of light.” This does the trick, I guess, because we’re out of the church and hitching a ride back to the farm, where lo and behold Alexandra herself is sitting in the garden. And, once again, bitch is STUNNING:

Niles is bringing her a copy of Anthony Adverse from the library, a collection of three stories where one of which is titled The Lonely Twin. That might matter later. Then, they discuss Holland’s favorite book from childhood: Piggy Lookadoo, about a pig that ends up getting roasted with an apple in its mouth. Guess Russell was not familiar with this tome, or he might not have spent so much time antagonizing the two. Then they talk about the story of a changeling and some elves who steal a baby. Holland loved that story, but Mom isn’t into it. Given the fact that the Piggy Lookadoo book took a real-life turn, I’m curious to see when the elves show up and whose baby they steal. Maybe they’ll take the freaky one from the jar at the carnival. Moving on.

A grocery truck stops by to make a delivery, and the driver asks Winnie if they’ve seen Old Lady Rowe. They haven’t. He wonders if she left town because she hasn’t come out for groceries lately, and there’s a bad smell coming from her house. Oh, dear. Meanwhile, Niles has changed into swimming trunks and hidden his tin in his bedroom. It’s good to know there’s at least one place Niles goes without carrying that thing. Turns out Mom’s noticed the ever-present cigarette tin, and she wants to know what’s in it too. After Niles leaves the house, she sneaks into his bedroom to find it. Meanwhile, Niles and Holland have discovered that Uncle George put a lock on the basement door, and Ada has gone over to OLR’s house and discovered that she’s dead. Niles returns home to find his mother in his room, holding the ring. She grabs it and runs out of the room without another word, which is weird. Holland runs into the room and pitches a fit, threatening retribution upon Niles if he doesn’t get that shit back from dear old Mom.

And for some reason, there’s a drawing of Bruno Hauptmann on his wall – the man who kidnapped the Limburgh baby? This might matter later.

It’s nighttime now, and Mom has wandered into the garden for a good-old late-night weep by the sealed-up well. At Holland’s insistence, Niles goes to her and helps her back up the balcony stairs to her bedroom, where he discovers she’s holding the Peregrine ring in her hand. She wants to know what he’s doing with it, as it should have been buried with her husband. Niles says Holland gave it to him. Mom looks…scared. Where was Holland when he gave it to him? They were in the parlor, Niles says. Mom looks…more scared. When was this? she wants to know. In March, Niles says, after our birthdays. After your birthdays? Mom whispers, looking – you guessed it – even more scared. Suddenly Holland appears on the balcony, demanding the ring back, and a struggle ensues. Sure enough, Alexandra ends up falling down the stairs. She’s not killed in the fall, but she is paralyzed from the waist down, and she cannot talk. Damn, this farming community has quite the accident count this summer. Dad and Russell killed, along with Old Lady Rowe, and now Mom has lost the ability to walk or speak. Which is pretty convenient for the twins, considering what Mom knows. Mom vs. Stairs, the Stairs take the gold.

Niles, upset over what’s happened to Alexandra, fights with Holland, who refuses to take responsibility, saying it was all an accident and that their mom will be fine. Niles runs off to the church to pray, and Ada follows him. Niles tells her he’s scared of Holland, and Ada responds by whipping out Holland’s harmonica, which he apparently left at OLR’s house the day she died. Ada forces the truth out of Niles – that Holland was there the day Rowe died, and it was maybe, kinda-sorta possible that the big-ass rat he waved around in her face caused the heart attack that killed her. “He doesn’t mean to be bad. He doesn’t mean to be!” Niles insists, but Ada is having none of it. She does that thing Alexandra did when discussing the ring with Niles, getting more and more horrified every time Niles says Holland’s name. Then she basically tells Niles to shut his yap and drags him out of the church and into the graveyard.

She yanks Niles over to a particular tombstone, and in our post-Sixth Sense world you’ve probably figured out by now what’s going on, but the movie drags it out a bit longer. Niles refuses to even look at the tombstone, so Ada makes him play The Game by moving into the consciousness of the corpse buried there. This seems…fucked up, to say the least, but at this point, I guess she sees no other alternative. Niles plays The Game, describing what he sees and feels, which is about what you would expect: he sees a box, it’s dark, it feels like a prison that he can’t escape. It’s a coffin. It’s about this time the film shows us what Niles and Ada are looking at – Holland’s tombstone. He died on their last birthday. Hey, that explains why Mom was so horrified hearing Niles go on about how Holland gave him that ring after their birthday!

If the movie had just stopped here, I would have been extremely disappointed, given that this is a twist we’ve all come to know by now. I have no idea how often it had been used back in 1972 when the film was made, but fortunately, the script has more up its sleeve than just relying on this device to complete the story. Personally, I had not figured Holland’s death out the first time I watched the movie until Ada dragged Niles to the cemetery, but on a re-watch, it holds up: there is, in fact, no time where Holland and Niles appear on camera together (all their conversations use panning techniques to cut between the two of them when they talk) and no other character ever speaks to or sees Holland. We do have plenty of photos around the house of the twins, to reinforce that Holland was, in fact, a real person, and there’s the trick of Old Lady Rowe confusing Niles for Holland and being so dotty she didn’t remember that Holland died. And then there’s Ada, who’s been playing along with Niles about Holland believing she was helping him heal. She was wrong.

So what did happen to Holland on their birthday? We flashback to Niles sitting in a tree, where he catches a glimpse of Holland attempting to throw a cat down a well. So OK, Holland was a little shit when he was alive, too. It’s unclear what happened exactly, except that in the contest of Holland vs. Cat, the cat won, and Holland tumbles down the well to his death. We see Niles scream and climb out of the tree, rushing over to the well and peering down to see Holland’s body at the bottom. He’s clearly dead. Damn, lots of people seem to fall around Niles, don’t they? Even though Niles’s flashback shows that he was nowhere near Holland when he fell, you have to wonder. Who really did Dad in? Did the twins do that together, or was it all Niles all along? Or, as Niles is playing it, was it always Holland who was the evil twin, and now that he’s dead Niles has taken on that aspect of his personality? It’s left open to interpretation, and I tend to think Holland really was the shitty one, but he and Niles worked together until karma came for Holland in the form of one very feisty cat and Niles had to take the lead. But who knows – maybe it was Niles all along and even his memories have convinced him otherwise.

Niles collapses from the shock of facing the truth, and he’s rushed back home in a state of delirium. When he comes to, Ada admits to him that she went along with his perception that Holland was still alive because of how badly Niles wanted it to be true. It’s not stated, but if I had to guess I’d wager that Ada also wanted to believe Holland wasn’t dead, and that played into her decision as well. But now, Ada sees how far The Game has gone for Niles, and she puts her foot down. No more playing The Game. From this point forward, we live in the real world only. Have I seen the real world yet? Niles asks, which does not bode well. Niles rightly asks if he’s going to be sent away, and Ada insists he won’t be, which leads me to believe she’s not going to tell anyone what she knows. It seems pretty messed up not to get the kid help, but I’m pretty sure this is how things were done in the 1930s. It’s also not clear exactly how much Ada has put together here, beyond the fact that Niles thinks Holland is still alive and that means Niles was at OLRs house the day she died.

It only takes about seven seconds from the time Niles promises not to play The Game and Ada leaves the room for Holland to show up again, this time in the form of a shadow on the wall. It’s more ghostly and creepy than seeing him in the flesh, especially now that the audience knows what’s really going on. He calls Niles downstairs where a coffin is set up in the parlor. It’s Holland in the coffin, and he encourages Niles to play The Game with him, which Niles does. Holland tells Niles to take the Peregrine ring from his finger, but it’s stuck. He then tells Niles to get the shears out of the garden and cut the finger off to take the ring. Niles says something interesting here – he says Ada told him the ring was cursed and needed to be buried, but we never hear them have that conversation, so I suppose that’s something that got edited out? No idea, but yeah, the ring doesn’t seem to bring much luck, cursed or not. I’d gladly bury that thing, but no one asked me.

As soon as Niles snips off the finger, the vision of the coffin disappears, and Niles is alone in the parlor. Then Holland appears, all fingers intact, acting like nothing happened, and the two sit in the parlor bickering about their fate. Niles is scared, and he doesn’t want to play The Game anymore. He didn’t like seeing Ada cry, and he feels like something bad might happen if The Game continues. But when Holland rightly points out that Niles will never see him again if he stops playing The Game, Niles flips out and begs him not to say such things. At this point, we continue to hear Niles whispering in the darkness, but Holland’s voice has disappeared, and we’re aware once again that it’s just Niles manifesting all this weird shit and none of it’s real. The camera pans over to the stairwell where Ada is listening to Niles talk to himself, and she’s clearly distraught.

Cut to the next day, when Niles is sawing a log in the barn. I’m not comfortable seeing Niles with a sharp object in his hands, but no one asked me. A horn honks, and it’s Jenny and Rider, home from the hospital with the new baby, and yep, it’s a girl. Niles doesn’t look all that happy about it, though; we see Ada take the baby in her arms and call her “my dear child” just like she does Niles, and yikes. This might not go down well with him, much less our dear dead Holland.

Cut to Niles visiting Alexandra in her room. And yes, she’s still stunning, if a wee bit worse for wear. Niles gleefully offers to feed Mom her soup, and Mom looks appropriately horrified. She may not be able to say it out loud, but Mom clearly remembers what happened to cause her tumble down the stairs, and she’s less than thrilled with Niles’s visitation. He announces the arrival of Jenny’s daughter, then sits down with a book to read to Alexandra aloud. The story he chooses is the one Holland loves, about evil elves stealing a baby and leaving an ugly changeling in its place. Mom manages to look even more horrified.

Cut to Niles approaching the apple cellar again, and pondering the lock Uncle George put on it. He hears commotion coming from around the corner, and peers around to see the farmhand (Victor French) desperately trying to get some booze out of a barrel. The spigot is stuck or something, and Vic, who seems to have imbibed plenty of devil water already, smashes the lid of the barrel open out of frustration. Just when he’s about to stick his whole head in it and go bobbing for hops, he spies Niles peeking at him, apologizes for breaking the barrel, and covers it up with a cloth, claiming it’s broken.

Cut to Jenny and Rider heading out for a night on the town, while Ada looks for Niles. She finds him in the barn, still sawing, and instead of screeching in horror at the sight of a mentally unstable child with sharp tools in his hands, she simply tells him to put them away and go back to the house. Night is falling, and the wind is picking up threateningly. It’s clear there’s a strain between Ada and Niles now, and when Ada asks if he’s been playing The Game he denies it and walks back to the house. Ada knows better, of course, but rather than go back into the barn to investigate what the hell Niles is up to out there, she just stares after him as thunder rolls in the background. Looks like there’s a storm a-comin’ to the Perry household, and given their luck lately, I doubt they’re going to survive it without casualties. Moving on.

The wind and rain have kicked up, and Niles is listening to a radio program in the parlor while Aunt Vee puts the baby to sleep upstairs. Victor French is outside removing awnings from the house in preparation for the storm, but when he reaches the window outside the nursery Vee flips out like he’s a peeping Tom. Her shouting brings Ada into the room; she was bringing a tray of tea and medication to Alexandra when she overheard Aunt Vee scream and went to check. Niles ends up bringing the tray into the baby’s room, and Ada leaves him alone with the baby so she can take the medicine to Alexandra. Just as we’re starting to think about what a terribly bad idea this was, Niles pulls the netting around the baby’s bassinet, shuts off the lights, and leaves. OK, well that seems to have gone well. Crisis averted?

The storm is coming on strong now, and we’re treated to a series of shots of the house in darkness, as shadows dance on the walls and the thunder and lightning roar outside. The camera pans through the parlor, then up the stairs, then past a hallway window where we see the rain pounding outside, then into Alexandra’s darkened room, where Ada is asleep in a chair next to Mom sleeping in her bed. It’s totally quiet except for the sounds of the rain and thunder outside, and we can clearly see the teacups and medicine bottle next to Ada on the bed. That seemed – intentional. We cut to Niles’s room, where he’s clearly asleep, and for a moment we think everything’s still OK, but then a crash of thunder prompts Niles to leap up from sleep. He rushes into the nursery, and freezes as soon as he opens the door, a look of horror on his face. We can see that the window to the room is clearly open. Niles runs to the bassinet and sure enough – no baby there. Niles rushes off, screaming for Ada.

Chaos ensues. Rider and Jenny return home, and as you can imagine, promptly freak out. Police are called. Men show up with dogs and lanterns. Men are running every which way, searching for Victor French, who they’ve already decided is the one who took the infant, especially since he was snooping around the nursery window earlier, according to Aunt Vee. The rain is pouring down. Niles wanders around the front porch, looking as if he’s in a trance, as he watches the madness unfold around him. Ada tells him to go back inside, which, really Ada? Nothing? Niles marches out to the barn instead, and Ada calls to him. He shuts the door as if he didn’t hear her, and from the look on her face it appears that she may at least be copping to what’s what in this situation. She follows him in, and hears Niles in the loft whispering for Holland. It’s then that he utters the famous line:

Oh shit

Nana looks appropriately terror-filled at hearing this, and when Niles appears at the edge of the loft and sees her, he immediately spills all the beans. Yes, Holland took the baby, because he’s a bad boy who will never get into heaven. He also used the medication to drug Nana so she’d fall asleep. Oh, and Holland also killed Russell, murdered Dad, forced Niles to cut off Dad’s finger when he was in his casket to get the ring, and threw Alexandra down the stairs. None of it was Niles’s fault – it’s all because of how evil Holland is that all this has happened. Ada clearly disagrees, and grabs Niles as he tries to run away. She tries to force him to admit that he was the one who stole the baby, but Niles isn’t having it – he pushes Ada down and runs out of the barn just as the police are arresting Victor French, who they automatically assume is the one who did the kidnapping because he’s a drunk and an immigrant.

We cut to a scene of Uncle George carrying the same barrel we saw Victor French smash open when Niles was watching, and it was at this point I realized what was about to happen.

Y’all. Y’ALL. Niles/Holland drowned that baby in the barrel! Uncle George opens it up, and we see the wee little top of its head just bobbing there for a second. Then everyone loses their shit, as you can imagine. Ada runs in, sees what’s happened, and well, I guess she finally understands the depth to which The Game has taken Niles. Next time, Nana, just teach them hopscotch or something, maybe?

Back Ada goes to the barn, where Niles is hiding in the cellar. Now, she walks right past a crowd of cops and onlookers who are all grabbing and shouting at Victor French, bellowing about how they’re going to see that he hangs for what he’s done, and she doesn’t say a damn thing. I get it, I get it, she needs to find Niles, but poor old Vic is in the process of getting the shit beat out of him, so it seems like she could have made a different choice there. But no one asked me.

Down in the cellar, we hear Niles calling for Holland. At first, there’s no answer, but then we hear Holland call out to Niles in the darkness. Who are you? he asks Niles. We can’t see him, only hear his voice. I’m me! I’m Niles Perry!, Niles answers. Are you sure? Holland asks. The look on Niles’s face makes it clear that he’s not.

Cut to Nana grabbing a gas can from outside the barn. She walks inside, then shuts the barn door. Damn, Nana’s taking the law way into her own hands, y’all! She locks the door behind her. She opens the trapdoor (or whatever you call a door in the floor) and looks down. Niles, who we can only assume has gone totally off the rails at this point, smiles blissfully at her, mistakenly thinking she is the Angel of Light come to take him away to heaven (Ada’s flowing white nightgown with bell sleeves that look like wings certainly help). Niles seems totally ready to go with her until he sees her pouring gasoline down the stairs, then he starts to shout for help. Too late, as Ada grabs a lantern, adopts her most impressive angel pose, and throws herself down the stairs. Guess she figured she’d better go down with the crazy train, all things considered. The barn cellar is engulfed in flames.

Cut to a tractor, pushing piles of burned barn debris into piles. Pan over to the house, where we see poor paralyzed Alexandra peering out the window. She’s looking rough at this point, but who can blame her? With Ada gone, she alone knows what happened, to herself and to the baby at least, and she’s most likely figured out the rest of it by now since what else does she have to do but dwell on it all? Pan over to the front porch where we see Winnie and Aunt Vee going through the front door. Pan up to a bedroom window where we see – wait, is that Niles? It’s Niles all right, staring out the window at the burned-out barn. Wha? We cut to the barn as workers tear it down, and the camera pans down to the cellar, where it zooms in on the lock that Uncle George put on the door earlier. It’s still there, on the ground, but it’s clearly been cut in two. Somehow, Holland/Niles manages to break it before all the shit went down, and somehow this allowed Niles to get out while Ada burned inside the barn. It doesn’t totally make sense to me, but I’m not going to complain. It’s the only plot point that doesn’t pan out for me in the end, as the rest of it is effectively done. I’m particularly impressed with just how powerful the scene of finding the baby in the barrel is, given the fact that the “big twist” about Holland being dead is where a lesser film would have stopped. And all of the shots leading up to it, when it’s dark and storming and the camera is just wandering around the house, is also eerily effective as a buildup to the main event, and Ada deciding to show up as Niles’s angel in order to comfort him before killing him was also very well-done, even if it didn’t work out as planned.

This movie is a slow burn, but overall I think it stands up to the test of time well. In fact, it serves as an example of what can be done via the less-is-more technique and some really good storytelling. It is damn near impossible to find at this point, but if you ever come across it, I highly recommend you give it a watch. You’ll be surprised at how it stays with you. Yowsah!

Country Codes

Well hellooooo there from Nacogdoches, Texas!

We’ve been here about two weeks now, although Doug has gone back home to collect the furniture that wouldn’t fit in the moving truck last week. Easing the cats into the new location has kept me around the house for the most part – as has the fact that I don’t have much in the way of clothes or makeup unpacked to be presentable. I’ve tried a few things, but haven’t met yet with much success-mostly because I’m realizing there are a LOT of little things about small-town living I have yet to learn. Here are a few of them:

  1. Small towns have the JANKIEST roads I’ve ever seen. I’ve been driving my big old Mercury Grand Marquis for many years, and have never had an issue with parking or driving it – not even once. But on our first day here I ran into a parked car while trying to pull into a spot, which was mortifying (no real damage to either car). The next day, I popped my car over two different curbs while trying to turn, and I accidentally ran over an old parking block today while trying to find the entrance to the Taco Bell drive-thru (don’t judge – we have no refrigerator yet). It’s like there aren’t even standards about how wide or narrow the roads or parking spaces have to be, and apparently, I was more dependent upon those city standards than I thought.
  2. It’s always been a THING with me, as a city person, to avoid crowds whenever possible. This means doing grocery shopping and other errands during the week, leaving the weekends for the nine-to-fivers to navigate. Also, it always felt imperative to get to wherever it was I wanted to go as soon as possible, preferably as soon as the doors opened, again to avoid crowds. But I’m starting to suspect that in a small town, stores only open when crowds are likely, and if you try to go visit them during “off hours” they’re just going to be closed. Either that, or they’ll be open and you’ll be the only person in the place, while the workers stare at you with a look that says, you know we don’t get customers until after lunch, what are you even doing here?
  3. Everybody waves. Maybe not on major roads, but on smaller or neighborhood ones, you best believe everyone who passes you coming from the other direction is going to wave at you.
  4. Sound travels! We have two acres, but we’re only about a mile or so from Nac’s historic downtown area, and there are a lot of restaurants and bars there that have live music on the weekends. And we can hear them from our front porch. Not only that but sometimes we can hear the SFA band practicing. I admit I thought we’d have more quiet here, but we also looked at houses farther outside of town and decided we didn’t want to be isolated, so more noise is a part of that deal, and it’s not constant. Once we get settled we’ll have to go listen to some of that music at the actual location where the show is happening. And the train sounds are heavenly.
  5. Fitting in takes time. I don’t know what I expected here – part of me thought everyone would know immediately that I’m some city chick who knows nothing about this place, and the other part thought everyone would be falling all over themselves to be our friends. The reality has been more…normal. So far I’m just another chick driving a car (and popping curbs) or buying groceries, and everyone I’ve encountered is just a person doing person stuff. There truly are a lot of things in the area I want to experience, in fact, there’s so much it’s overwhelming, but I’m starting to feel like the best thing to do over the next few weeks is just settle in at home and get used to the vibe.

And on that note, I haven’t started taking any pictures yet. Part of that is because until my house is in order I’m really not thinking about anything else, but it’s also that aforementioned feeling of not fitting in just yet. I’ve never been comfortable taking pictures in public places because it makes me feel so obvious, so doing it somewhere new is even more intimidating. But I will get there.

Found Footage Flail: Real Cases of Shadow People, The Sarah McCormick Story

What’s the horror: shadow people, or ghosts, that hang around in dark corners and scare people silly while stalking them

Does the dog die? No animal cruelty

Gore factor: None

Re-watch scale: Only when I want to torment myself, or someone else

Honestly, reading this fake news report is way more exciting than watching the movie

I don’t normally write analyses of movies that I dislike, but this one is SO SPECTACULARLY BAD it deserves some mudslinging. I normally appreciate even the worst found footage for the effort involved, but this one is so bad it’s downright offensive, and there isn’t one redeeming character in the mix. It is INSANELY awful. Let’s dig in.

Things start off normally enough – we get a few talking heads of people who’ve seen and suffered with the shadow people phenomenon, then cut to a TV news report about the disappearance of three student filmmakers, one of whom is Sarah McCormick. Why the case is consistently called the “McCormick case” when there are also two missing young men is a bit of a mystery, and until we realize this is without a doubt the most entertaining section of the film we might have questions about this. Trust me, it’s not worth discussing as there’s absolutely no reason for this film to exist at all, so who cares about the details. Moving on.

Once the media reporting section is done, we cut right to the report that footage has been found that might help with the case. Then we cut to a “memory card #1” title, and right to the footage in question. And here, friends, is the opening line of the film, which I think sums up the entire movie nicely:

Indeed, movie. Indeed.

In true form, the individuals involved in filming this documentary start off right away by filming everything that happens as if it would ever be used in a real doc. It wouldn’t. Do we care that Sarah has packed a lot of stuff in her bag? No, we do not. Do we care that Sarah appears to have prepared for being an interviewer not at all? Well yeah, actually we do, and it’s not encouraging to watch her struggle to simply tell who she is and what she and her “crew” (and it’s not encouraging that the videographer of this crew doesn’t know what frame rate to shoot in, and Sarah has no idea what a frame rate even is, and that we’ve already heard 75 fucks and shits when we’re only four minutes and eleven seconds into this ordeal – cursing is the fallback position of any FF film that doesn’t know what else to do with itself, and we’ve already arrived at that milestone) are heading out to shoot. Sarah never does manage to cough and stutter out that they’re going to interview some individuals who claim to be haunted by shadow people, and they end up deciding that it might behoove her to write down what she’s going to say in advance (ya think, movie? YA THINK?).

Strap in folks. This is as good as the dialogue gets.

A few more shots of people cursing and putting bags into a trunk, and we’re off to what will turn out to be the MAJOR SET PIECE of this movie – the car. Folks, approximately 90% of the movie takes place in this vehicle, and at no time does anyone in said car discuss shadow people. No one in this car is haunted by shadow people – at least, not that we know of. No one in this car, at any time, sees a shadow person – at least, not that we get to see. Instead, we get endless stretches of time where these three sing, burp, fart, and convince themselves they’re amusing when mugging for the camera.

We’re six minutes in, people. SIX MINUTES IN.

Once when I was in college, I went with a group of friends to a big old cattle ranch that was owned by the grandfather of one of us, I forget who, I just know it wasn’t me. This was in the nineties, and I brought a huge-ass camcorder with me to record the event for posterity. Did we mug shamelessly for the camera while pretending that was how we acted all the time? Yes, we did. Did we laugh hysterically at every joke told on camera, no matter how dumb it was? Of course we did. Did we record hours upon hours of ourselves walking through forests or riding in trucks, commenting on the cows, the lakes, the grass all around us? Yep. Did we tell tons of private jokes that made no sense to anyone else? You betchya. And did we force others to watch this drivel when we got back home, simply because WE had such a fun time acting like fools that we were convinced anyone who watched that crap would be equally amused? Heck yes we did. The difference is, we didn’t turn that shit into a movie. And these people DID. This is every single person with a camera who ever thought they were so super-entertaining in life that they didn’t need to do anything except turn the fucker on and the world would be amused.

You know what no one has ever said about Real Cases of Shadow People: The Sarah McCormick Story? This.

Sarah doesn’t know how to use her iPhone’s GPS. Hilarious. The driver – I still don’t know his name – explains to Sarah what B-roll is. Hey, guess what B-roll is, Sarah? It’s this movie. Driver makes a joke about being psychologically scarred by the death of his mother. Heh. Little kids losing their parents. Hilarious. It’s not even true, as it turns out – but I would totally believe that the parents of all three of these dipshits went out for milk and cigarettes one day and never came back. Who could blame them? I say let the shadow people have these three.

You know what’s really funny? Beans. And people who eat beans.

You might be forgiven at this point for assuming all this nonsense is just character building, showing the dynamic between the characters before the action kicks in. I assumed that the first time I saw this also, so I wasn’t super-annoyed yet. I mean, we’re only nine minutes in, so spending some time getting to know these people and how they interact with each other isn’t an unexpected development. But we’ve already been made painfully aware that these three aren’t anywhere near as funny as they think they are. And at nine minutes in, we may already be hoping none of them survive, but still. The true horror of this film is not yet evident. And shortly after they film themselves eating beans and corn (with great difficulty, I might add) we get a scene or two that actually tricks us into thinking there is going to be a real movie here, and it’s about to get started.

But first, we have to film Sarah peeing along the side of the road for some reason, when they are clearly in a populated area with an abundance of bathrooms. We listen to Sarah as she sputters out the story of the first person they’re going to interview – y’all! They’re going to do something! – with a man whose daughter disappeared months ago, a man who claims to have seen shadow people right before the disappearance. Okay, this might get good.

But first, we have to film the driver peeing on the side of the road. And Sarah tells us she peed on her sandal. Then the driver says he stepped in Sarah’s pee. Sarah wonders what will happen if an animal comes along and smells her pee. Oh, I say we wait for that to happen, movie. I’d totally watch that.

Oh hey, the driver’s name is Joe.Thanks, movie. This may be the first useful piece of dialogue we’ve gotten so far.

Dude in the back seat wants to sell something he calls “nut art,” because he thinks his ejaculate comes out in pretty cool designs. He’d like to ejaculate onto canvas and sell that shit. Of course he would. And if you’re wondering why I’m subjecting you to this stupid dialogue, well reader, I had to sit through it, twice I might add – so you get to sit through it too. The backseat nut artist makes an incest joke. Classy.

Oh sure, leave the talking to the gal with pee on her sandals.

They’re out of the car! Hooray! It looks like there is going to be an actual interview of an actual person who has something to talk about other than human excretions. But not only did Sarah NOT change shoes, she’s totally dressed for a day at the beach here, which annoys the shit out of me. I mean, can you put on a blouse with a button or something? Would it be so hard to make yourself look somewhat professional for this important interview? Although, interestingly enough, Sarah does a pretty good of convincing the man, who has decided he doesn’t want to talk to them, to let them in for a quick couple of questions. She actually sounds sympathetic to his situation here, and her voice is – dare I say it – calming. This just serves to frustrate me more, since it appears Sarah could have been a much more compelling character, had she anything to do besides laugh at fart jokes. Oh well – this is about all that actually happens in this movie, so let’s pay attention.

Credit where credit is due, Sarah does a good job with this interview. She shows genuine empathy for the father’s plight and appears to be a good listener. She simply lets him tell his story, asking guiding questions as necessary. And his story is compelling, leading me to wonder why the movie had a good idea like this and then whiffed it so completely. Because the story he tells is one I would totally watch. He’d started seeing shadow people right after the birth of his daughter. They were usually around or in her room. They were always in shadow, but they were darker than shadows, more like an absence of all light, and they could still be seen in darkness. He’d turn the light on, however, and they would disappear. Later on, her daughter started talking about seeing these shadow people also, but Dad always pretended that he wasn’t seeing them even though he was – he wanted his daughter to feel safe and protected, and since he had no way to stop these shadow people from lurking about, he didn’t want his daughter to believe they were real. Then one night she came into her parent’s bedroom in the middle of the night, saying she woke up to a bunch of shadow people holding her down in her bed and telling her to go back to sleep and never wake up. They tried to comfort her, she went back to bed, and was gone in the morning. Again, why didn’t we get to see this movie? So much more interesting.

The movie tells us via title card that we’re now on Memory Card #2 and I don’t know why it’s bothering because we then cut to the trio in the car. Again. Sarah does a decent job telling the camera that they are going to interview a woman whose husband disappeared years ago, and again I wonder how much more likeable Sarah would have been if she’d never hooked up with these bozos. But now I understand why the only person the cops ever looked for was Sarah. I mean honestly, would you worry about the disappearance of a guy who thinks this is decent casual conversation?

And by the way, no she didn’t.

Interview #2 is up – the subject this time is Mae Montgomery, who, as Sarah already mentioned, lost her husband years ago when he just up and disappeared. She seems nervous, but much more welcoming and forthcoming than the previous subject, and she appears to really want to tell her story. Sarah is, once again, a good interviewer, asking questions in a gentle voice and expressing sympathy in appropriate places. Oh Sarah, how I wish you had better friends. Mae has some interesting things to say about the shadow people, how they compel people to look at them by feeding off their energy and then refusing to allow them to avert their eyes. It’s an interesting discussion, but it’s also clear the director told the actress to play this all kooky like the woman is some nutjob (not to be confused with nut art, let’s be clear). Which is a shame, because it cheapens all of the interesting things she says. She sees the shadow people as extensions of human beings, their “shadow side” so to speak. She has advice to give, having dealt with seeing them for so long – try not to fear them, as they will feed on it. Remember that if you are seeing a shadow person, they want something from you. And although most of them are evil, there are shadow people that are kind. Then her lamps start flickering, and the trio starts hearing weird labored breathing sounds, although Mae insists she doesn’t hear anything (it’s clear she’s lying because she’s lonely, and doesn’t want the trio to leave), and Sarah flips the fuck OUT.

See that lamp behind Mae? Yeah, it flickered.

I know that a big frustration with horror movies is how dumb the characters are, how instead of doing the logical thing and getting the hell OUT of any situation where lights flicker and growling sounds are heard they stick around out of curiosity. Well folks, Sarah is EXACTLY that person we all claim we’d like to see in a horror film, because she shuts it down and practically sprints out of poor Mae’s house. And guess what – it may be the logical reaction, but it’s boring as hell on film. How could someone so fascinated with shadow people just bolt when there’s evidence occurring right in front of her, while cameras are rolling? This should be exactly what Sarah wants to capture. She should have taken Mae up on her offer to stay and moved the fuck IN. Set up cameras all around the house and waited for the magic to happen. I mean, come ON, Sarah, we all know how this works. But no, Sarah does the smart thing and leaves, and we are terribly disappointed. Because now, we’re back to this:

At least Kyle – oh hey, backseat guy has a name now! – is saying something I can actually agree with.

Yep, we’re back in the car. Sarah is dashing my hopes for her to ever become an investigative reporter when she shows ZERO interest in investigating the very thing she’s supposed to be investigating. You know it’s bad when Backseat Kyle takes a more logical approach to anything than you do.

Oh look, it’s memory card #3, and we’re – in the car again. But this time it’s raining. They’re listening to some random song that must be someone’s cousin’s band because we hear way too much of it, and without dick jokes no less. Then the camera dips into this weird slow motion mode for no reason whatsoever, and then we’re in Georgia and a clock is chiming. And hey look – they’re out of the car! And they’re walking! Backseat Kyle is filming, Sarah is carrying a backpack, and Sloppy Beans has a bug on him. They want to smoke, but no one brought a lighter. They borrow one from a passerby. Sarah is on camera again, explaining that they are going to interview another woman whose daughter disappeared. She is not wearing anywhere near as much makeup as she has been so far, and she looks so much better. Thick blue eyeliner does not a good smoky eye make, Sarah. Keep that in mind for future reference. Oh wait, you don’t have a future because you’re missing.

Backseat Kyle raves about her “fucking fantastic” performance, which is high praise for someone who simply managed to explain what they were about to do without, I don’t know, squirting? Based on their previous conversation on the subject, I take it that the boys don’t like it. And I hate it that I know this. Then we take some time to walk around downtown somewhere in Georgia, because why the hell not? You in a hurry or something? It looks very quaint, wherever it is. Old stone streets that the trio struggles to master. “It’s like hiking,” says Sloppy Beans, and no, it is not. It’s like walking on a stone street, and nothing else. There are bugs, and it is hot. And then…

oh for fuck’s sake

We’re back in the car! Someone found a cheeto that looked like Harambe the gorilla and sold it for $100,000. And it’s hot. Sarah, for no explainable reason, is tired. She wants a nap. Seriously, why? You have done two interviews over the course of I don’t know how many days they’ve been driving now because it HAS to be more than one by now. How could you possibly need a nap, Sarah? Did all that running away from a good story that might have given you actually decent footage tucker you out?

We’re then treated to a time-lapse of the trio pitching a tent, yep, a TENT because apparently we’re going to camp now. Why? This adds nothing to the story of shadow people, but we do get to see Sarah in a bikini which I suspect is the real motive here. She looks good, and we’re treated to audio of Sarah explaining why this documentary means so much to her while she wanders around on the beach. It seems she’s had similar experiences, and that’s why this movie is SO important to her. So important that you bolted at the first evidence of shadow people you caught on film, important like that, Sarah? I can’t help but think this backstory would have been much more effective had we actually watched Sarah talking, but hey, bikini.

We watch Sloppy Beans and Backseat Kyle mug for the camera, and you gotta give it to these two for consistently coming up with unique ways not to be funny. It gets dark. The sunset is impressive. Sloppy Beans plans to imitate an Australian wilderness dude for the entire night. There’s a fire. And a raccoon? It’s hard to tell, because it’s dark. Sarah thinks they got some good footage. Whatever you say, Sarah. I want to like you but you make it hard sometimes. A plane flies overhead. Sloppy Beans entertains himself by repeating the word “Albequerque” over and over again in an Australian accent.

Yes, we’re still doing this. Just wait until he farts in the tent.

Now we’re in the tent, and you guessed it – the conversation is all about farts. Who farted, how they farted, what the fart smells like. Then they discuss each other’s stinky feet. Then Backseat Kyle shushes the other two and says, wait wait wait, did you hear that? And they all fall silent. And just when you think the movie’s gonna go all Blair Witch on you, Kyle farts loudly into the silence. Hilarious. Hey, wanna know what girl farts sound like? Because this movie wants to tell you. And tell you. And tell you.

It’s morning now. Everyone gets up, ready for another busy day of interviewing people who’ve seen shadow folks hanging out on the beach. Backseat Kyle zooms in on Sarah’s rack. It’s pretty good, not gonna lie. Oh Sarah, your rack deserves to get attention from far more decent men than these two. Oh wait – now we’re back in the car again. They’re going to see a Ms. Phillips, whose daughter disappeared quite recently. Turn right here, Sarah tells Sloppy Beans, who promptly turns left. Heh.

The trio gets to the Phillips house, and the aforementioned Ms. beckons them inside. As soon as she points out her little dog and is sure to tell them all that it doesn’t bite and is super-friendly, we are certain that said dog is going to make a meal out of Sloppy Beans. The dog stares into the camera and growls. I’m with you, dog. And also, heh.

Ms. Phillips is eager and outgoing, and ready to tell her story. Backseat Kyle actually does a decent job with the B-roll here, focusing in on little house details that inform us what Ms. Phillip’s life is like – a collection of little wooden angels playing musical instruments, a photo of a volunteer fire department that most likely includes her husband, a wedding picture, and a few of those wooden signs with sayings painted on them in whatever that half-cursive, half-print font is that wooden signs with sayings painted on them always use (I’m assuming the font is called “Hobby Lobby” or “Michael’s”). It looks like a cheery, soccer-mommy kind of place, and Ms. Phillips adds to the warmth with her welcoming personality. Again I am reminded of the ways in which this could have been an interesting documentary. Hey, maybe something else supernatural will happen, and Sarah won’t cut and run this time. But no. Instead, Mr. Phillips shows up, looking a hell of a lot like Wayne Newton, by the way, and he is not down with this interview shit. He chases the kids out of the house.

Yeah, now you know how we feel

They stop at a depressing-looking gas station and complain about bad smells and bugs. Guys, if bad smells and bugs appear everywhere you go, maybe you’re the problem. Just saying. Backseat Kyle entertains himself, and no one else, by performing racist imitations of other nationalities. It’s wildly uncomfortable. Hey Kyle, got any new poop jokes for us instead? For fuck’s sake – now he’s just making gurgling noises for no damn reason while Sarah and Sloppy Beans laugh. There’s no way they actually think this is funny. Or maybe they do, because a plastic bag floats over the car and they lose their shit like it’s the most hilarious thing that’s ever happened.

And now we’re lip-syncing.
Who screws up the lyrics to Row Row Row Your Boat? Jeebus.

Now Sloppy Beans is doing a terrible Redd Foxx imitation. God I wish Redd Foxx were still alive – can you imagine? He would destroy these idiots. He’d slap the Redd Foxx right out of Sloppy Beans’ stupid mouth. Sorry, I just checked the runtime, and we’re only halfway through this mess. It’s the big one, Elizabeth. I’m coming to join you.

Now they’re on the hunt for a random guy who wouldn’t give Sarah much information, not even his real name, but he does have a video he wants to show them. Sounds like a really bad idea, guys, so by all means full steam ahead this shit. They find themselves in a desolated area – old warehouses that are rusted and overgrown with weeds, abandoned cars, et cetera. Maybe, just maybe, this is where something scary actually happens? It’s the right place for it at least – no little wooden Hobby Lobby signs here. It really does look like a location where some spooky stuff could go down. In spite of myself, I feel a bit of anticipation. In the end, all we get is a jump scare by a grouchy old man who suddenly pops into view in Sarah’s passenger-side window. And this dude is pissed. He berates and insults the team, which is pretty enjoyable, I must say, claiming that they don’t know what they’re doing (true) and that others have tried to document shadow people before, and they all end up disappearing (if only). Then he says he has video of something to do with shadow people, but he won’t show it if the camera is running. Kyle does keep it running, but makes zero effort to actually film the video grouchy dude is showing Sarah on his phone. Sarah sees something that makes her react with shock, and cut. Then we’re BACK IN THE CAR.

Dear God, just make it stop

They pull over to pee, and yeah, Backseat Kyle films himself whipping it out. Then we cut to Sarah, who sings a few bars of some bluesy song I don’t know, and she has a really nice voice. I feel bad for this actress for being involved in this mess. She has some talent, but none of that has a chance in this mess of a movie. Not that it matters in the least, but Sloppy Beans, who apparently also saw Grouchy Guy’s video, tells Backseat that it’s security camera footage of a dude walking on some ledge and then getting swallowed up by a shadow and disappearing. Would have been nice to see it, but never mind. Backseat Kyle is too busy doing that found footage thing where one character refuses to believe anything that any other character says about supernatural events. So they bat that around for a while – that didn’t happen. I swear it happened. Come on you’re lying. I’m not lying. etc. etc.

They’re in Tennessee.

THERE ARE STILL FORTY MINUTES LEFT IN THIS FILM, Y’ALL.

They’re back in the car. Now they’re filming a stream. Back in the car again. Now Sarah is walking along the side of the road, filming scenery with her iPhone. Back in the car again. Trees and more trees. This is like some backwater Skinamarink shit now – just images with occasional sounds. And annoying background music. Siri tells them to turn left, then Sarah is standing on a bridge. Is it possible a shadow person is going to snatch her away? Now she’s under the bridge, down by the river. She almost falls. They react as if this is funny, so whatever movie. Back in the car. Then back outside. Jesus, even for this movie this is some seriously confusing footage. Are they literally driving for half a mile and then pulling over only to get back in the car and drive another half mile and pull over again? Because if that’s not what you’re doing, movie, then for fuck’s sake put the driving footage together and the outdoors footage together and stop chopping this shit up. It’s ridiculous. Although I will say this much; I’ve never been to Tennessee, and it does look beautiful.

Well said, Sarah.

More car footage. The car pulls into the parking lot of a restaurant. Then they’re driving again. Then the car pulls into the parking lot of a hotel. Thank god we’re seeing all this parking or we’d never know that they ate dinner or how they got to a hotel! They check into a room. They shower. They review the day’s footage, and no one shows any concern that it’s all garbage, so I call foul. There’s a fly on the wall and no, I do NOT want to be that fly. They sleep. They’re back in the car. Then they’re outside the car loading luggage into the trunk. Wait, what? They already left the hotel, didn’t they? The movie is completely off the rails at this point. No one has the slightest idea what’s happening.

I swear to God, they’re now hiking. They’re hiking. The movie has officially become a travelogue, and a terrible one at that. We get a shot of Sarah peering over a cliff. She looks pretty, but we can clearly see her unfortunate tramp stamp. Goddamnit, Sarah. Make better choices. I want to like you! Now they’re eating again. I’ll spare you the shot of Sloppy Beans opening his mouth while it’s full of food and waggling his tongue at the camera. True to form, we cut from that scene of them eating their food to a scene of them – no lie I swear – STANDING IN LINE TO ORDER THAT FOOD. Who edited this mess? Now they’re touring a cave. There are thirty-three minutes left in this movie. THIRTY-THREE MINUTES. Remember when they were interviewing folks about shadow people? Yeah, those were fun times.

OMG – shadow people! We found them!

Now they’re riding a tram up a mountainside and we’re treated to the recorded tape spewing information for the tourists. Did you know there’s an eight-degree difference between Chattanooga and Lookout Mountain? Or that Lookout Mountain has the steepest railway in the world? Back in the car. Tunnels. More tunnels. I expect the movie at any moment to flash back to the day Sarah was born, but it doesn’t. Bridge. Tunnel. Train. Trees. After all of this Tennessee tourism shit we’ve been watching for twenty minutes, Sarah asks Backseat Kyle if the camera is rolling – come on, Sarah, do you really have to ask the man who filmed himself peeing if he’s rolling? – then she turns to it and says, “We’re in Tennessee right now.” No shit? Wild! I thought they were in a rain forest. Anyway, they are on their way to their last interview. Let’s hope something happens. Or nothing happens. Who cares. Sarah says they’re going to interview a Stephanie Yost and she really thinks it will be an interesting story. Backseat Kyle speaks for all of us at that moment:

MOST of them, though? They’ve filmed two.

The only thing keeping me going at this point is knowing that eventually, they are going to disappear.

Sarah does not take kindly to Kyle’s negativity, and Sloppy Beans chastises him for not being civil (ie, telling the truth). Then Sarah, bless her heart, takes responsibility for the entire, shitty endeavor by blaming herself for being a bad interviewer. This is ridiculous, seeing as she’s been a fine interviewer, aside from being too scared to stick around and film the flickering lights. And honestly none of them have sucked at their jobs – the sound is fine, the camera work is fine. The problem is that they’ve interviewed two people and been iced out by two others, and are instead filming themselves eating and peeing and farting and thinking it’s interesting. Kyle continues to speak truth to power, and as much as I hate to agree with this cretin about anything, he’s totally in the right here. They should have made the most of the interviews they did have, and the fact that they didn’t makes the fact that they’re still pursuing this shitty documentary a moot point. Even if this last interview is any good, it’s not enough to make a documentary out of, and they still don’t have any documented evidence that the phenomenon is real. He really hammers the other two about this, which Sarah again interprets as him being negative, when in reality he’s the only one making any sense. Sarah is far too sensitive to her subjects’ feelings and doesn’t want to push them, and while that’s nice and all, it doesn’t exactly bode well for her journalism career. So preach, Kyle.

Ok, so now we’re in much more familiar found footage territory. Kyle and Sloppy Beans think they’re lost, and Sarah insists they aren’t. Backseat Kyle starts complaining and Sarah starts getting snappy. It may be the first time I’ve ever been happy to see bickering in a found footage movie because at least it means the movie has remembered what it’s supposed to be. Oh hey – they found it! Stephanie Yost’s house is in sight. And ol’ Steffy is standing on her porch with her hands in her pockets, looking all sorts of unhappy. She’ll give the interview, but she’s not letting them in her house. Way to keep your home smelling fresh, Stef.

Turns out Stephanie lost both her sister and her brother to what she believes are shadow people. Man, that’s a hell of a bummer. Soon after the second disappearance, Stephanie and her mom fled the house, and she’s not seen any sinister shadows since. Sarah asks what happened to the house, which seems like a weird question, but it sets up Stephanie to say it’s just a few miles away. Sarah asks if they can go film it, and Stephanie reluctantly agrees, although she doesn’t recommend it and warns them that they shouldn’t go.

We’re one hour and twenty-two minutes in, folks, and we’re entering an abandoned house. I feel like this should have happened about one hour and twenty-one minutes ago, but whatever. They peer in the windows, but it’s too dark to see anything. Sloppy Beans tries the back door (I know that sounds like one of his awful sexual encounter tales, but in this case it’s literal) and eureka! It’s open. Then Sarah inexplicably exclaims that there’s no way they’re actually going inside. What the fuck, Sarah? I still want to like you, but this is ridiculous. First off, I am sure the woman knew you would go inside, why else would you go there? And secondly, what kind of documentary filmmaker are you? Why would you pass up an opportunity to film a creepy, abandoned house where two children were taken by shadow people? What do you need, a written invitation? A cookie? A lot of vocal haranguing by two obnoxious idiots? Oh wait – that’s what she actually gets, and it works. I really hate Sarah for making me agree with Backseat Kyle and Sloppy Beans. Not really, Sarah. Against all logic and reason I still like you. And I would totally respect your desire not to encroach upon the Yost’s privacy if you weren’t making a documentary that needs exactly this type of footage.

Backseat insists they spend the night in the house – which isn’t in nearly bad enough shape to be all that scary, but is definitely in good enough shape for them to sleep there without getting tetanus or something. And as Kyle points out, this is their best shot yet to catch a shadow person on film, seeing as Stephanie was convinced that the house itself had something to do with the supernatural weirdness she experienced as a child – she never saw another shadow person again after they moved out.

Come on, Beans. You have no best judgment.

And oh my god – this movie is FINALLY acting like the movie it’s supposed to be. Backseat is talking about putting security cameras all over the house. Yes! Why did this take so damn long? Stephanie Yost and your creepy, abandoned but still totally livable house, where have you been for the past hour and twenty-eight minutes? Just think gang, something might actually happen now. The last supernatural event we got was back at Mae’s house when the lamps flickered and growled, remember that? Good times. They discuss how there’s no electric or running water, but I’m so happy they’re finally DOING something that I’m not even gonna question how they’re gonna run all these cameras with no power. Or how they’re going to catch anything in the dark. Screw it – I’m taking what I can get.

My god, somebody pinch me, because Kyle is actually acting like someone who knows what he’s doing right now. It’s the first time he’s been even remotely tolerable. He even addresses the no power issue in a fairly plausible way. And thank God, because there are only 14 minutes left in this thing. They’re all very tired, so maybe next time don’t waste a day hiking and exploring caves? Just a thought. Sarah needs to pee. She makes Backseat go with her because she’s scared. He gives her shit because of course he does. While they’re back there, Beans sees something on one of the cameras.

We haven’t heard anything so far about shadow people acting like poltergeists and moving stuff around, but whatever movie. I’ll take what I can get.

And hey, we actually see it this time! One of the stuffed animals sitting on a couch bounces around a bit on its own. Sarah immediately wants to leave because of course she does. But it is pretty creepy to see. Even though they’re trying hard to make it look like it’s night when it’s clearly still daylight outside. Sarah is scared. She feels a presence. It’s clear the guys don’t feel what she is feeling, but you can’t blame them for not wanting to leave after days of getting nothing and finally having captured something, anything, supernatural on camera. Sarah comes clean, admitting to the guys that she did see shadow people when she was a kid, that one was tormenting her father to the point that he shot himself, and that she once woke up with a shadow being hovering over her bed. She’s telling this to explain why she’s so scared, but before the guys can react a clock starts chiming. It’s a clock that was clearly not working before, but now it’s somehow working again. And while this is all kinda fun, typical haunted house stuff, I can’t help but notice how it doesn’t fit with any story of shadow people we’ve heard up to this point. Nothing about things moving around or stuff starting to work or ceasing to work in its presence. So far we’ve only heard about the shadow people being seen and making other people disappear. So, this is all a bit weird as it doesn’t fit the story so far as we know it. It’s as if the director suddenly realized he only had ten minutes to get to the scary part so he just threw every horror trope he could think of into this house, even if it made no sense.

Five minutes left, and a door slams somewhere in the house. Now Beans wants to leave, too, but Backseat is holding out. He heads back into the hallway where they heard the door slamming. We see the camera fall, and just like that, Backseat Kyle is no more. I mean, we had a decent scary moment there, but we definitely did NOT see any shadow people, and the way Kyle got got doesn’t exactly mesh with the other stories we’ve heard so far. But we’ve only got a few minutes left, so we’ll have to take what we can get.

.

I mean, you can kinda see it

It takes about fifteen seconds for Beans to also poof into nothingness. We don’t see anything, he’s just there one minute and gone the next, and Sarah is left alone screaming his name. Now, Sarah has never once been carrying a camera throughout this disaster of a movie, and there’s no logical reason why she would be carrying one now, but a camera whirls around and sees what is almost, kinda sorta, a shadow of some sort, and then she screams and it’s all over. So, okay, I guess. At least Sarah gives us some good screams before she disappears. Wouldn’t you know the one time Beans and Backseat decide to be quiet is the one time it would have been cool to hear their voices?

And that, my friends, is the absolute worst found footage movie I have ever seen. And now you’ve more or less seen it too. You’re welcome.

Found Footage Fave: Lake Mungo (SPOILERS!)

What’s the horror: ghosts

Does the dog die? Nope

Gore factor: None – just a few shots of a drowned body

Re-watch scale: Heavy rotation, in more ways than one

Lake Mungo is my favorite kind of found footage: mockumentary style. It follows The Palmer family – mom June, dad Russell, and brother Matthew – and the bizarre events surrounding the death of the daughter, Alice. The director, Ausstralian Joel Anderson, has not directed another motion picture since this one came out in 2008, and not much at all is known about him as he was hesitant to do interviews when it came out. Perhaps he wanted to keep the mystique of the film alive, who knows, but it’s a shame he hasn’t done anything else as this is one of the most bittersweet and sad mockumentaries I’ve ever seen. There is a lingering sadness to this one that haunts for days – which is part of what’s happening to the Palmers in the film. The extent to which we, as the audience, empathize with this family is intense, at least for those who loved the film. There are those who go into it hearing such fantastic things that they come away disappointed because the horror here is mostly of the human variety – the way the family deals with grief, and the way you can live your whole life with someone and not really know them at all. It’s got its share of creepy moments, and one humdinger of a jump scare, but this is a quiet film that deals with the silence and unanswered questions the living are left with when a loved one dies, especially one as young as Alice.

The actors are very convincing in their roles; I’ve heard it said that their acting is ‘wooden,’ but to me, it’s quite a genuine representation of how a family would act in front of a camera while discussing the death of a loved one. What some people think is wooden acting is, in my humble opinion, exactly the way a family like this would present themselves on camera; they’re keeping it together for the cameras, trying to get Alice’s story out into the world, and they’re going to do their best to stay collected and calm lest the whole thing goes off the rails. The mother and father both come across as smart, stoic, and damaged, but determined, in the end, to move on. The brother does the same, but his way of processing his sister’s death is, well, a bit problematic.

AND HERE COME THE SPOILERS!!

Mom, Alice, and Grandma Palmer

We first get the backstory of what happened to Alice Palmer. News footage tells the tale of the young girl who drowned in a nearby lake (but NOT Lake Mungo; that’s for later) and was found by a rescue team several hours later. The family had been on a day trip to the dam when Matthew decided to return to shore, leaving Alice swimming in the water alone. He reaches the shore, and Alice is nowhere to be seen. Police are called, and when her body is found Dad is called down to identify the body. Mom wasn’t up to seeing her daughter that way, and as Dad admits in his interview, that may have been a mistake.

Alice’s room as it was the night she died

Soon after her death, the family begins to hear strange sounds around the house. A contractor working at the dam where Alice drowned finds a figure in the shadows of one of his photos that looked mysteriously like Alice. Matthew sets up cameras around the house to try and capture what might be going on, and in several shots we see apparitions of Alice, sometimes walking past the camera, and other times hiding in corners of rooms. Things seem to be going down the same path as so many horror movies and mockumentaries that came before, but then – a twist.

A ghostly image of Alice Matthew captures on camera

Another couple discovers footage they took at the dam on the same day as the contractor, and once they realize the coincidence, they go back through their videos of the day to see if they too captured Alice’s likeness on film. And it turns out they did capture a figure in the background, just like the contractor, except from their angle, it’s clear that the figure is not Alice at all – it’s Matthew wearing her jacket.

Matty has some ‘splainin’ to do

It turns out that his mom’s growing conviction and obsession with the idea that the body Russell identified that night was not Alice, and that Alice might still be alive, prompts Matthew to run with the idea in order to convince his father to exhume the body and put his mother’s obsession to rest. At least, that’s why he says he did it. It’s really not clear that Matthew himself really understands what compelled him to pull off such a macabre scam, but it does come across that he did so without malice and was perhaps acting out some sort of desire on his part for his sister to still be alive. For whatever reason he did it, his stunt works – Russell starts to doubt that he did actually see the body of his daughter that night, and he agrees to allow the body to be exhumed and DNA tested. This is where you might expect another twist, but there is none – the body is Alice’s, after all. She’s really, truly gone.

The movie does something clever here; by having Matthew explain to the documentary crew exactly how he pulled off getting those ghostly apparitions of his sister on film, the director is essentially allowing the character to reveal his own secrets. Using old videos of Alice and strategically placing the television playing the footage opposite a mirror or other reflective surface, Matthew has made it appear that Alice’s ghost is haunting the house. It’s a pretty neat trick, and it has the audience looking out for further tricks as the story moves forward. But things aren’t that simple here. The story is just getting started.

Lake Mungo, looks creepy as hell to me

A psychic has gotten involved by this time; he runs a local radio show where people call in and ask him to help with all sorts of paranormal issues and with connecting to dead relatives and the like. June feels strangely comforted by his presence over the airwaves and asks him to come help them out. He even holds a seance wherein they try to contact Alice, but nothing happens.

As we delve into Alice’s history, it’s clear things were not quite right between her and her mother. It’s handed out in little bits and scraps, but it seems clear that June had become rather distant towards Alice as she grew into her teenage years; as if there was some deeper level of love June was unwilling to invest in her. It’s revealed that this coldness, for lack of a better word, runs deep on Mom’s side of the family, as she experienced the same distance from her own mother as a child. Alice and June, in short, were just not getting along at the time of her death, and it’s clear Mom carries the guilt of that in her heart. At one point she tells the camera that she hopes Alice knew she loved her, which is telling. She’s not at all sure Alice did know.

And in spite of Matthew’s revelation about his deception, the strange noises around the house don’t stop. June decides to go back over the old tapes he produced, wondering if she can see anything else in them that might explain whatever is going on, and sure enough she finds something in one of the videos – there’s a figure hiding out in Alice’s bedroom, all crouched down in a corner. Even weirder, Mom tells us that this figure is – their neighbor?

Meet the neighbors – on second thought, don’t

June rightly decides that if the neighbor – Brett Toohey was his name – is skulking around Alice’s room at night, there’s got to be a reason and it’s probably not a good one. Some snooping reveals the truth about Brett’s late-night visit (or visits, who knows how many times the guy snuck in there). He was looking for a tape that June found in Alice’s belongings. How does June know he was looking for this tape? Because the tape reveals that Alice had become involved in some sort of sexual “relationship” with Mr. Toohey and his wife. It’s not clear when this situation developed or how long it had gone on – Alice had babysat the creepy Toohey’s children for years – and it’s also not clear why Alice has this tape in her possession. Now, Alice can’t be more than 16 or 17 at the time of her death, which makes this nothing like an actual sexual relationship at all and much more of sexual abuse of a minor, but the movie doesn’t dwell on that, which isn’t the greatest choice in my opinion. But I hate to admit that at the same time, this revelation about Alice is oddly effective; the flat-out oddness of the revelation, and the magnitude of its effect on Alice, serve well to deepen the sadness and detachment she had from her family when she was alive. Who knows how she felt about this situation with her neighbors, but we can project plenty onto it – it’s deeply wrong, and probably scarring for Alice emotionally, and it probably caused her to feel isolated not just from her family but from everyone around her.

Dr. Slatter, the psychic

And it’s not just the tape June discovers. In Alice’s planner, June finds a business card taped to one of the pages – and it’s the same psychic the family has been consulting with recently. Why does Alice have his business card in her calendar? Because as it turns out, Alice had been going to see him for readings or sessions or whatever he calls them in the weeks before her death. Dr. Slatter claims he didn’t tell the family he knew Alice due to confidentiality issues, but June ain’t buying it, which seems reasonable. Based on his situation he never should have agreed to meet with the Palmers once he realized who their daughter was, but he did it anyway, and he doesn’t have a really great explanation as to why. He is quickly booted out of the picture, but the whole situation adds yet another layer to Alice’s secret life. Why was she going to see him anyway?

Searching for Alice’s body

June finds something else in Alice’s planner that triggers a memory; Alice had several days marked off for a trip to Lake Mungo with high school friends at the start of summer. June recalls that Alice wasn’t the same after taking that trip. A few of Alice’s friends are interviewed who reveal that they, too, noticed a change in Alice after that, and that she actually seemed upset about something while still on the trip. Several of Alice’s friends share cell phone footage they took on the night in question, when something clearly upset Alice, and through the dark and shaky video June discovers something – in the background of one shot, Alice can be seen by a small copse of trees, burying something in the ground. Off they go to Lake Mungo.

It’s easy enough for them to find the spot where Alice did her digging, and soon enough they uncover Alice’s cell phone – she’d told June when she got back from the trip that she lost it – along with some jewelry that was special to her. There’s footage on the phone, so they fire that bad boy up and get to viewing.

Alice, looking less than happy to be there

It’s shaky footage of Lake Mungo as Alice walks along, alone in the dark. In the very far distance, her camera spies movement. Then a small speck. The speck gets bigger and it’s clear that it’s a figure. It walks slowly but directly towards Alice. The closer it gets into view, it becomes clear that it’s a person. A female. And slowly it dawns on us – as it must have dawned on Alice – that this figure, this person, is her. The figure moves closer, and we recognize the odd distortion of her face matches the disfigured face of her corpse when it was lifted from the water. This is Alice seeing herself dead, drowned – the face moves right into the camera, and seems to float there for some time. Then it shrieks like a damn banshee and lunges at her. The video cuts out. And that, my friends, is the jump scare to end all jump scares. The director has been slowly tightening the tension for almost an hour at this point, and we’re all ready to spring right out of our seats from being wound so tight. It’s a horrific jolt, being so out of place in such an otherwise quiet film, and it’s wildly effective.

Yikes

So this is why Alice started seeing Dr. Slatter, and this is why she was so affected by the Lake Mungo trip. She saw her own death coming for her. We see footage of Alice in one of her sessions with the psychic, and she describes to him her feelings of isolation and loneliness. She describes a dream in which she walks into her parents’ bedroom at night, soaking wet, and stands at the foot of their bed, crying and begging them to wake up. But they don’t respond. They don’t hear her. They can’t help her. And Alice realizes she is completely alone. It’s – pretty sad, actually. It’s a terrible realization for someone to have at her age, and it’s a terrible way to feel at any age. Whether or not we can believe she actually saw her own death that night, we can sympathize with her pain, and it makes her premature death all the sadder, that she had to die while carrying the burden of so much fear and loneliness.

This seems to be the missing piece in the puzzle for the family. After making this discovery, as June describes it, they actually start to move on. They don’t make any actual decisions to move on, it just sort of happens, as if they are finally able to put Alice’s memory to rest. June even visits Dr. Slatter one last time, to get some closure on the whole experience before they move out of the house where so much tragedy has happened, and try to put themselves back together again. At this point, the film cuts between a session Alice had with Slatter before she died and the session June is currently having with him. June describes walking into the now-empty house, and moving towards Alice’s room. Alice describes being in the house alone, and hearing her mother coming towards her. June sees herself entering Alice’s room and looking for her everywhere – but she can’t feel her in the house anymore. “She’s gone,” she tells Slatter, and she appears to be at peace. In Alice’s session, she describes her mother not being able to see her, even though she is in the room, and then her mother turns and walks away without saying a word. “She’s gone,” Alice says, and from her perspective, it has a completely different tone.

Matthew’s backyard photo, with the image of Alice in front of the bushes

The film moves from this scene into a replay of photos and filmed moments the crew has shown before, but this time our eyes are drawn to what we missed before – even in Matthew’s faked images, there’s a presence we’d never noticed in every single one.

The same picture, with another Alice sitting on a bench off to the right of the frame
That’s definitely NOT Matthew in Alice’s jacket
And that’s not Matthew off to the left either
Can you see her? It’s tough to make out, but she’s standing behind the cabinets

Faked apparitions or not, it appears Alice has been in the house with them since her death. And based on her session with Dr. Slatter it seems Alice was having experiences of her life after death before she died. And while the family has found the closure they were seeking, selling the house and moving elsewhere to start over, it’s not so clear that Alice has gotten the closure she needs to move on. Looking back at that first photo we saw of the family, taken on the day of their move out of the house, we can see Alice staring out at them from the window behind them.

Check again

So what does this mean for Alice? Is she trapped in the house now, doomed to haunt it for all eternity? Or does her staying behind mean she’s releasing the family and letting them go? Did she guide June to discover her secrets for some reason? Or is she simply trapped in the house, watching the family carry on without ever being able to reach them? Does she know she is dead, or is she still stuck in the house, thinking she’s alive and no one’s listening to her? There aren’t any answers to these questions, which seems fitting really. It’s like June says at one point: “Death takes everything eventually. It’s the meanest, dumbest machine there is, and it just keeps coming and it doesn’t care.” 

The movie isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. It’s slow, and quiet, and definitely not your typical horror film. But what it definitely IS, is haunting. It’s one of the most effective portraits of being haunted by grief I’ve ever watched, really, because of how subtle and confusing it is. And the way the filmmaker managed to create a haunting that torments the dead as much as it does the living adds to the grief.

We as the audience are left feeling more like Alice at the end of it than the rest of the family. We’re stuck in that house with her, watching them leave us behind, and we don’t at all know what that means for us, and where, if anywhere, we will go. And that, my friends, is terribly, tragically sad. And scary as hell.

Out of Town Bound

Welp, we did it. We bought a house in Nacogdoches.

Welcome home

The house sits on a two-acre lot that is heavily wooded around the perimeter as you can see – there’s even a walking trail back in our woods, which is really cool. But even more awesome is that we feel like we’re in the country, but we’re actually smack in the middle of town, so anything we might want or need, including entertainment, is right up the street. This house is nestled in a tiny little neighborhood where most of the houses are just like ours; sitting on a couple of acres and set back from the street, so it’s lovely and shady and seems to be quiet.

It’s smaller than our current house, which was our goal, and it’s only one story as opposed to the two we have now. The owners are already out of the house and aside from some minor repairs it’s ready for us to move in once we close at the end of the month. So yeah, this happened fast!

Selling the house we’re in now is a whole other ordeal; we haven’t listed yet or really prepped for it in any way except for meeting with a realtor this afternoon. But we are doing our best to stay calm, take breaks from the madness, and try to stay focused on the positive end result.

It’s funny when I think about it – the life decisions I’ve made so far, the ones that felt really huge and even scary, are decisions that probably would be considered small to most people. I have friends who have changed states in their lives at least three times and friends who’ve moved to different countries, and I’m nervous as hell about moving three hours away. I’ve lived in Houston my whole life and never intended to leave until this past year. It seems like it should be an easy move at this point in my life – tons of people move after they retire, after all. But for me, this is a scary venture even while I’m super excited about all of it.

My great-grandmother had a screened-in porch and we all loved it as kids; I’m stoked to have one in the new home

Teaching was the same way for me. I know many people take up teaching when some other career doesn’t work out, or as something to hold them over until the ‘real job’ comes in. It’s considered an “oh well if it doesn’t work out I can always teach” sort of thing. But for me, it was terrifying to even consider it. I was terrified for the first five years, to be honest, and I never totally got over the fear that something would go terribly wrong. But just making it through my student teaching year, when I wanted to quit a thousand times, was a huge accomplishment for me. Hell, graduating from college was a huge accomplishment, for that matter, as it was never really emphasized to me that college was something I needed. The expectation was that I would get married and have babies, and my family never cared much about my grades or my future career. To be fair, all of my siblings, male and female, were raised this way, and I was the only one of us who was not married straight out of high school. If someone had asked, I’m sure I would have done it too, but I was terribly shy and kinda prudish so no one was knocking down my door. This turned out to be a good thing, as it forced me to think about how I would take care of myself. Hence the college degree and the teaching career – two things I never thought I would be capable of doing.

Some of the lovely trees on our street

And now I’m actually moving. In fact, this is the first time I’ve ever picked out a house to live in. In my twenties I lived in other people’s apartments, and then another person’s house, and then I married Doug and moved into the house he already owned. And truth be told, I’ve never much cared for this house. I mean, it’s nice and all, it just is not at all a house I would choose had I had the opportunity. And now I’m actually going to live in a house that I chose and got to decorate myself. And it’s weird to think of this as something so momentous when most everyone I know did this shit decades ago, but I guess I’m a slow mover.

Downtown Nac at Christmas time

So things are gonna be crazy over here for a while, and after we get settled I am sure my blog will turn into non-stop pictures of Nacogdoches, but hey, I’ve been bored with everything else I could take pictures of anyway. So, stay tuned!

Horror Fave: Hellbender (SPOILERS!!)

What’s the horror: witches

Does the dog die? There are some dead forest animals; mostly we see the bones and that’s it

Gore factor: Medium – there’s lots of blood in this one, but not as much actual gore

Re-watch scale: Heavy rotation. This is a new film but I’ve already watched it many times.

First, let’s talk about the filmmakers here: The Adams Family (with one D, not two, so no nostalgic TV connection there) consists of mom, dad, and two daughters, who do all of the acting, writing, producing, directing, etc. among them. Sure, they call in resources when needed, but for the most part, this is some seriously all-in-the-family indie shit. And for the tiny budgets they work with, the two movies I’ve seen from them (they’ve made more but they are hard to find) are quite good. I much prefer their latest, Hellbender, to their previous offering, The Deeper You Dig, just because it has a more cohesive story, better pacing, and a more satisfying ending, but TDYD is also a pretty unique and creative horror film.

The Adams Family is led by actors Toby Poser and John Adams. Adams was a male model back in the 90s, and Poser was a “bad girl” on the soap opera Guiding Light. In other words, even in their fifties, these are quite beautiful people. Poser in particular is captivating on-screen, at least in my opinion – we are the same age, and she appears in her films with almost no makeup, a fair amount of wrinkles, and zero plastic surgery. She’s also a woman of normal size, although a look back at her time on GL reveals she was as slim in the 90s as I was, back when it took zero effort to stay thin. And her hair is amazing.

Toby in her soap opera days, 1995

Poser in 2019

Poser and daughter Zelda Adams in Hellbender

While John Adams played lead opposite Toby Poser in TDYD, here he is mostly off-screen, only appearing in one short scene – this is primarily Toby and Zelda’s show, with some of older sister Lulu Adams worked in for good measure.

Lulu Adams

John Adams

The story involves Poser as the mother, who never gets a name in spite of her leading role, and daughter Zelda as Izzy – true to form for this family, Zelda has quite the modeling career going as well as her writing, producing, and acting gigs. She’s signed with Elite models, which is about as, well, elite as you can get.

Zelda Adams

She’s quite good in this film, and I won’t do that thing where social media shits on her for having an in-road into Hollywood because of her parents’ relative success – I get where other actors may be overlooked because someone else has a famous last name, but it also makes a lot of sense to me that acting talent can run in families, somehow, so if the actor or actress in question is good at what they do, I’m not bothered. Everyone who’s never acted thinks it would be so easy, but being a good actor takes a certain amount of instinct not everyone has, and in my opinion, talent is talent. And Zelda Adams has it. Not to mention working with her family on a micro-budget and helping them do everything themselves.

So here’s the deal: Mom and Izzy live an isolated life in the mountains of- somewhere? – the setting isn’t stated that I can recall. Things are a little odd from the jump – Izzy is homeschooled and has some unnamed illness that requires her to remain in isolation from others, only able to socialize with Mom. To make up for that, Mom plays bass in their two-woman band, called, appropriately enough, “H6LLB6ND6R,” while Izzy plays drums. They really camp it up when they practice in their basement – donning theatrical Bowie-style makeup and performing on a makeshift stage. Hellbender’s music accompanies the film, and while it’s all rather slow and moody and not particularly complicated skill-wise, the duo can flip from a whisper to a scream on a dime, and the melodies are intriguing.

There’s an odd strain between mother and daughter in the beginning of the film – a restraint that feels like it’s about to break loose. This is ultimately a coming-of-age story; Izzie is chafing against the restrictions of her supposed illness, and it’s clear Mother is aware of this and concerned about how much longer she can keep her daughter under her thumb. Not for lack of trying though; the opening scene of Mom leaving Izzy home alone to drive into town is chock full of “keep out” imagery:

Also, Mom has a sweet car

It’s clear, however, that Mom loves Izzy deeply, and that Izzy reciprocates that love.But band practice with Mom in the basement is starting to feel a bit pointless to Izzy; she suggests that perhaps they should start to branch out a bit and play live at parties or in town. Mom is 100% against this idea, though; reminding her that it’s too dangerous for Izzy to socialize with others. You may start to wonder at this point whether or not Izzy would be in better health if Mom fed her something besides platefuls of twigs and forest berries.

Finger not included, until later that is

It’s no surprise that Izzy starts wandering farther out from their isolated home, and eventually stumbles across the other humans who are off-limits to her; a lost uncle visiting family nearby encounters her while lost in the forest, and when Mom finds out Izzy’s come in contact with someone who could harm her, she takes care of it in a decidedly not-normal fashion.

So long, Mr. Uncle; we barely knew ya

Once Mom poofs said uncle into nonexistence we’re clear on where the weirdness in their relationship comes from; Mom’s clearly some sort of witch with magical powers of the destructive kind, and daughter Izzy has no idea. In other words, Mom’s got secrets, y’all. And as Izzy wanders farther into the physical and symbolic forest with restless teenaged curiosity, the tighter Mom wants to hold onto her.

Enter Amber, whom Izzy meets when she accidentally ventures into her backyard. Amber is likeable and friendly, seemingly unphased at the appearance of a random stranger on her parent’s property – which we’ll eventually learn is because it’s not her parent’s property but a vacation home she’s ‘borrowing’ while whoever owns it is away – and invites her over for a swim and a beer. Izzy, we learn, doesn’t even own a bathing suit, so Amber promises to bring her one the next time she visits. At this, Izzy beams, clearly pleased to have made a friend, and the next day she sneaks away for another visit, which doesn’t pan out as well as she’d hoped.

This time, Amber has friends over, and after they ooh and ahh over Izzy’s musical skills, they settle down for some serious drinking. It’s pretty clear booze is new to Izzy, but she’s game to eat the tequila worm, which causes her to stare woozily into the distance as if she’s going to be sick – which would be understandable really – until she lets loose with a guttural, otherworldly howl. The other kids burst out laughing, and right then the owner of the summer house comes bursting through the fence, screaming at the kids to get the hell off his property. Off everyone goes into the forest, including Izzy, but she’s clearly under the influence of the alcohol, or the worm, or something, because she’s still acting stoned as hell and unable to speak. Unfortunately, their great escape ends with Izzy attempting to strangle poor Amber, who pushes her away and darts of deeper into the forest, understandably telling Izzy to stay away from her, so, end of friendship, I guess? Which is a bummer, because she seemed like a genuinely nice person and it was nice for Izzy to get a moment or two of bonding with someone other than Mom, but whatever is wrong with her has gotten in the way – and by now she’s figured out that what is wrong with her is not some illness that makes her susceptible to germs or whatever.

A confrontation with Mom is inevitable at this point, and when Izzy returns home Mom is waiting. She knows something’s up, and when Izzy asks her what exactly they are Mom spills the beans (or twigs I guess): they’re witches, from a long line of women who practice a very dark magic indeed: in fact, they are able to reproduce asexually, eliminating all need for male participation, and they draw their power, quite literally, from eating living things. Hence Izzy’s reaction to the tequila worm.

Mom’s kept all this from Izzy to protect her, or so she says – their power is dark and ugly, she says, and it is feared in the outside world. She believes there’s no way for Hellbenders to survive in the modern world unless they hide their power, and the only way Mom sees to keep their evil tendencies under control is to isolate. It’s clear she’s not just talking about keeping Izzy away from her own nature, here, but also herself. She’s done things in her past that agonize her, but as she tells Izzy, she did what she was taught to do. Until she reached a point of believing that what she, and all Hellbenders, were doing was wrong. Drawing power from death and destruction can only lead to one’s own D&D, in the end – at least, that’s how Mom sees it. Izzy, totally new to the idea of her own power, sees things differently. But we got a glimpse of the Hellbender in action when Mom disintegrated Sad Uncle in the first act, so we know where embracing their Hellbenders can take them.

The true face of a Hellbender

At this point, the movie becomes a bit predictable, but it’s still fun to watch. Izzy wants to know more about her powers, and Mom sets out to teach her now that the cat’s out of the bag. But she does so with hesitation; she doesn’t want Izzy’s newfound knowledge to overly influence her or change her – which is exactly what happens. Due to Mom’s deception, no matter how well-intentioned it may have been, Izzy has already destroyed the one normal friendship she’d managed to make – Amber has made it very clear that she wants nothing more to do with her, but to Izzy, the connection they made is far too important to discard. She’s never had a friend other than Mom, and it turns out Mom’s been less than forthcoming with her. It’s coming of age run amok, and Izzy lashes out at the people around her whom she sees as her betrayers – her mother, for lying to her all those years, and Amber for rejecting her friendship and refusing to give her a second chance. Mom has tried to explain to Izzy that their powers can do no good in the world and that it’s their responsibility to suppress them, but she’s coming from a place of experience in the witchy world where she was able to make that choice. Izzy has just discovered her own power at a crucial time in her development, and the reality is that her peers are always going to treat her like an outcast, like a freak – something every teenager fears, something that seems even far more likely for Izzy – and the bond she shared with her mother was based on a lie.

It doesn’t take long for Izzy to push beyond Mom’s boundaries around their history – she easily gains access to Mom’s secret sanctum and learns more about her heritage. She starts off on a discovery journey of her own, practicing the darker magic Mom is desperate for her to avoid. And when one last attempt at friendship with Amber falls flat, she takes revenge – against both Amber and her mother. All of Mom’s secrets have been spilled, and Izzy uses them against those she sees as causing her pain.

Sorry, Amber

Yikes

Ultimately, Izzy spares her mother from Amber’s fate – so long Amber, we barely knew ya – but it’s clear the power has shifted. Mom is scared of Izzy now, and Izzy knows it. The final moments of the film reverse the dynamic of the first act, with Izzy telling Mom she’s going into town, while Mom is forced to stay where she is.

There are intimations throughout the unspooling of the Hellbender mythology (to which we’re given only glimpses) that these centuries of asexual reproduction include an element of violence on behalf of children against their mothers; the mother who gives the child life must eventually sacrifice her life – literally – to the daughter, who is compelled to eliminate her. I’m guessing at this because none of it is explained clearly, which I think is best. To overly explain the mystery of this world our protagonist is just beginning to explore would be incongruous with what’s happening at this moment. Izzy doesn’t know, and doesn’t care, about the darker side of her family history which might give her pause; she’s actively rejecting the perspective of her mother during this process, so it makes sense that what we learn is barely enough to grasp also. We’re only shown what Izzy wants to focus on, which is a power that’s been denied her for 16 years. At the movie’s end, Izzy’s path forward is unclear, but she’s already killed one person within weeks of learning about what she’s capable of, so it doesn’t look good for anyone. Perhaps she will eventually draw the same conclusion as her mother, who has made it clear to Izzy that she regrets her past acts of violence, but it’s also clear, based on how things turned out for Mom, that fully denying her power is a losing proposition also. We know Izzy’s fated to reproduce and grapple with a daughter of her own and how who that girl becomes determines her own future. Izzy may be feeling her witchy oats at the moment, but moving forward is going to be complicated.