Showing posts with label Gothic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gothic. Show all posts

Monday, 20 January 2014

Sex, Death & British Horror


Further to my recent Sheffield based film shenanigans, I will be at the National Media Museum in Bradford on Saturday 15th and Sunday 16th of February to introduce a weekend of Gothic along with Dr Helena Ifill and Dr Matt Cheeseman from the University of Sheffield.  More details here.

Apart from the obvious joy of seeing three incredible Hammer films on the big screen, there will also be the rare opportunity to take a look at some of the Museum’s archive of British horror artifacts and memorabilia, including a wealth of production sketches, stills, plaster casts and a set of blood pumping plastic fangs worn by Christopher Lee in ‘Dracula’

Look out for me, I’ll be the one receiving medical treatment for over-excitement.

Oh, and 'Island of Terror' will return on the 2813th February.

Friday, 22 November 2013

Notes On The Gothic


001 I used to go out with a Goth. She drank Pernod, and only wore purple and black. Her hair was extraordinary, crimped and crenelated and blow dried upside down. The funny thing was how funny she was. I had expected that Goths would be miserable, but, for her, it was exciting, like riding the Ghost Train, or watching a Hammer film or reading a scary book late at night and having to put the big light on: morbid, perhaps, but not maudlin. But Goth girlfriends are not really what we’re talking about.

002 The original Goths were a Germanic tribe who sacked Rome. We’re not talking about that, either. We’re also not discussing architecture, although that has an integral role to play. Our Gothic is a literary style which became a cultural sensation and then a way of life. This Gothic is a heady combination of horror and romance, a kiss before dying. It flourished in the 18th and 19th centuries, where love was inextricably linked to death and to loss – a place where life was constantly threatened by a myriad of illnesses and conditions that medical science couldn’t yet cope with, where every person who survived beyond birth was automatically entered into the lottery of surviving to adulthood.

003 The signifiers of Gothic are many, and some have become clichés, a short hand for fear: a desolate or deserted place, an innocent heroine, a tyrant or a monster, a hero; candles and cobwebs, cellars and hidden passages, lives in peril, surrender, succumbing, evil to be overcome. Think of the pale, frail things of Gothic literature – lives spent in shadow and solitude, in big gloomy houses and partially ruined castles; hard, doomed lives, with love or death as their only solace and, sometimes, a love beyond death.

004 There is not always a supernatural element, but there is always a sense of the unnatural: you don’t need a ghost to be haunted; you don’t need a vampire to get your neck bitten.

005 I always meant to write something about the 1,225 episodes of extraordinary US goth soap ‘Dark Shadows’, but then Jonny Depp and Tim Burton came along and ruined it all. Those two need shooting. Or at least stunning. Perhaps they’ll then make a film that has a spark of something in it that isn’t all flip, facile, ironic hipster bullshit.

006 Gothic is easy to parody, indeed, it parodies itself. It has a sense of humour, it needs one, in case it becomes overwhelmingly grim. Gothic is popular, so it renews itself from generation to generation – it’s always the new black. It fulfils the primal instinct to reach out into the darkness, never knowing quite what your fingertips will touch first.

007 The Gothic Season starts at The Showroom Cinema, Sheffield, in November. ‘Hammer Bites’ starts on the 1st of December with a screening of ‘The Curse Of Frankenstein’. ‘Dracula’ and ‘The Mummy’ follow on the 8th and 15th. I will be presenting the films, with Gothic expert Andrew Smith on hand to stop me banging on about my ex-girlfriends. On the 15th of December, there will be records played in the bar, and I will be debuting my soon to become world famous horror themed disco set. Beware, I have a record called ‘Sexy Dracula’ to play.

Friday, 25 January 2013

The Pit Of Panic



Ah, Robert Hartford-Davis: a terrible film director who made some of my favourite films.'The Black Torment' is a Hammer-esque tale with an olden day setting and lashings of the olde Gothic, just don't watch it if you're even slightly tired as you will fall asleep, it's as simple as that.

When Sir Richard Fordyke returns to his ancestral home with his new bride, Elizabeth, he is surprised to find that very few people are pleased to see him. The reason? A nasty rape and murder (is there any other kind?) in which the poor victim gasped his Lordship's name before expiring, even though he was miles away in that London. Very soon, he finds himself seemingly pursued by the unquiet spirit of his first wife (unable to give him an heir, she jumped out of the window) and by a series of witnesses who have seen an angry version of him under circumstances that he has no recollection of. So, if it's not him, then who is it that looks like exactly him and is terrorising the village? & why isn't Sir Richard called Giles like every other eldest son of the Fordyke dynasty? It's a tricky one.

Remarkably restrained for a Hartford-Davis film, the pressure to show some decorum seems to have sucked the life out of the production. The first five minutes has an atmospheric sequence where a busty, frightened woman tries (and fails) to lose her unseen pursuer in a darkened wood, but the rest is flat, slow and, despite a couple of murders, a banging window and the odd flash of wenchly cleavage, pretty dull. When the 'twist' we saw a mile off suddenly staggers into view about five minutes from the end, there's a burst of long overdue activity:  women are threatened, villains revealed, murderous imbeciles drool, a bullet is fired into a face, two former friends have a sword fight and, finally, there's an impaling and a happy ending.

I think this is a film that Hartford-Davis made to show people that he could deliver a solid, fairly respectable piece of work after several fairly seamy b-movies and, in doing so, tried out some new things: colour, horror, period drama, a proper story - with mixed results. It's a boring film, but a good career move.

The Black Torment







Friday, 27 January 2012

Strange...



Reverend Matt Dawson: Where's Holly?

Dinah: You really got a thing for her, haven't you, Reverend? Come on, she knows it - so do most of the kids. It's as obvious as (actress looks around room) - a psychedelic poster.

Strange Paradise

Strange...


Reverend Matt Dawson: "Holly! Nice to see you here, what a pleasant surprise".

Holly Marshall: "You mean making the church scene? Forget it, Reverend, I'm not resting...(actress realises she's fucked it up) ...I'm not praying, just resting".

Strange Paradise

Thursday, 19 January 2012

Strange...


Dr. Alison Carr: "Money isn't the answer to everything".

Tim Stanton: "Why don't you tell that to the ugly at the bar? He's after 162 pounds of flesh - all me".

Strange Paradise

Monday, 19 December 2011

Thursday, 8 December 2011

Strange...


Rexl: "You dare to fly in the face of God?"

Jean-Paul Desmond: "On this island, from this moment forward, I AM God".

Strange Paradise

Wednesday, 23 November 2011

Strange...


Dan Forrest: "Mmn, I thought Doctors were supposed to smell medicinal, not sexy".

Strange Paradise

Thursday, 17 November 2011

Strange...


Dr. Menkin: "Until the people from the Cryonic Society arrive to replace the dry ice, there's nothing else we can do to preserve your wife".

Strange Paradise

Wednesday, 16 November 2011

Strange Paradise









Woah, 'Strange Paradise' is a bit of an odd one to get slightly obsessed with but, I'm afraid, it has me in its wobbly clutches. A daily, live soap opera produced in Canada (part of the Commonwealth, so technically within The Island's remit) the show ran between October 1969 and January 1970.

Designed as a rival to the hugely successful US gothic soap 'Dark Shadows' (1,000 episodes and a film), it never really captured the public imagination in the same way but is its equal in its unholy mix of banal soap opera and horror. The actors are poor and quite often struggle with their lines, the scripts are alternately boring and outrageous, the locations limited (many episodes simply cut back and forth between two sets) and, best of all, it occasionally tries to be hip and happening with highly amusing results. But it's strangely compelling, like watching an amateur production of Lovecraft with all the atmosphere and tentacles taken out. Despite only being on air for four months, there's 185 episodes of this, and three distinct story arcs and casts. 

As a flavour, here's a synopsis of the mind boggling first episode: Jean-Paul Desmond is the millionaire owner of a tropical island called Maljardin. His beloved wife Erica has just died suddenly. Jean Paul cannot accept this, and decides to have her body cryonically frozen. In the front room of his mansion, Jean Paul is addressed by the portrait of his notorious ancestor, Jacques Eloi DesMondes. DesMondes (who is the spitting image of Jean-Paul, allowing the same actor to play him in flashbacks) offers to return life to Erica if Jean-Paul will help him to live again. To this end, Jean-Paul visits the family crypt, locates DesMonde's coffin, opens it, finds a a voodoo doll with a silver pin through its head, removes the pin and is promptly taken over by the malevolent DesMondes...

Yes. I know, I know. Here's a clip from a randomly selected episode, number 64, I believe. I haven't quite got this far myself, so I don't know what's going on either.