Terrifyingly
Titular Ladies
by
Kristin Battestella
This
eponymous trio of period pieces provides Victorian, religious, and
folklore scares for our ladies as well as their husbands, children,
doctors, and priests.
Angelica
– A Victorian couple spirals into paranormal horrors thanks to
puritanical repression in this brooding 2017 tale starring Jena
Malone (The Neon Demon),
Janet McTeer (Albert Nobbs),
and Ed Stoppard (The Frankenstein Chronicles).
Ghostly photography, flashbulbs, and empty chairs contrast the
bustles, parasols, and formalities before lanterns, carriages, fine
townhouses, and storms. Bedridden confessions lead to earlier
courtings with circus sideshows and talk of Darwinism versus the
stiff upper lip British tapering their animal appetites. The
microscope revealing disease causing organisms is almost as fantastic
as the camera capturing spirits, and while it's okay for a young lady
to work in stationary store selling nibs and ink, she can't see her
future husband's laboratory. Our humble orphan now in elaborate red
dresses is called a counter jumper by the aristocratic ladies, and
she's fearful of the bridal bed before enjoying it in a scandalously
active montage. Bells toll amid talk of losing a mother nor wanting
to be one, and this birth is graphic not maternal bliss thanks to
scalpels, screams, and both lives at stake. Unfortunately, the doctor
says another pregnancy is not worth the risk, and the couple should
“desist entirely” and close her garden. Our husband doesn't want
to seek pleasure elsewhere, but she can't get into
other..options...and favors their toddler over him. Soon, she's
completely revolted by her husband and obsessively attached to the
child, and the wife is made to feel guilty about her health and
desires by everyone in tense Victorian melodrama. Men in suits have
no trouble warping her mind, but they are shocked to see a woman
enter the medical theater amid animals in cages, exposed brains, and
disturbing experiments that put the creepy back into the complex
characterizations. Strange noises, visions of germs in the air, bugs
in the woodwork, and wardrobes that open by themselves lead to more
anger as the husband dislikes the chaos his overprotective wife is
causing in their home. She won't let these apparitions prey on her
daughter – who also sees this floating ectoplasm man in her room.
Is she putting more notions in the imaginative child's head? Is this
mental illness or is the repressed sexual energy seeping into the
house itself?The maid calls in a scam artist spiritualist to ring
bells, burn sage, and banish the banshees. Rather than a charlatan
taking advantage, however, there's a woman to woman understanding and
courage – a protection spell is more like piece of mind somewhere
between being a modest mother and the shame of enjoying sex. There
are also unspoken lesbian veils, entertaining women while your
husband's away, putting their feet on the table, showing their legs,
and drinking his best port. Drunken undressings provide laughter
instead of rattling doors, swarming entities, prayers, and fires
against evil. If he is not at home, who is festering this
supernatural activity? The drama before the horrors may be slow to
viewers expecting in your face scares a minute, but the intriguing
characters are intertwined with the fear. Our mother needs to destroy
the snake manifestations and demon man coming for her daughter before
her husband sends her to Bedlam, and the once beautiful interiors
become stifling as ghostly sexual encounters escalate to mind and
bodies becoming one with blood and penetrations of a different kind.
Although the bookends are unnecessary and this seems caught between
two audiences – too much drama for horror fans and intrusive
paranormal activity for period piece viewers – such Victorian
horror drama with a touch of LGBT is perfect for fans of gothic mood
and psycho-sexual dreadfuls.
The Nun – This 2018
R-rated spin-off opens with the creepy demon portrait and
premonitions from The Conjuring before 1952
abbeys, on location Romanian filming, eerie forests, derelict
cemeteries, and crosses everywhere. Fog, lanterns, crows, bloody
hands, and screams in the dark accent chanting prayers, Latin
warnings, and forbidden doors while relics, dark tunnels, gothic
windows, and an upside down crucifix add a medieval panache. Evil
shadows and soulless reflections need a vessel to escape, and a
post-war chaplain and a habit-less novice are assigned to investigate
the hangings, bloody bodies, and deceased nuns. Local villagers spit
to ward off evil and fear talking about the cursed cloister –
there's a cross on the wagon and a scared horse only goes so far on
the dirt road toward the bombed out, overgrown castle. Crosses
surround the now unholy ground to keep the evil in, not out, and the
intimate cast, foreign touches, and blood on the church steps create
an old school horror atmosphere. Eponymous reflections and shadows of
unknown origin prove the simplest chill is the correct one, and
foreshadowed Chekhov's clues are indeed used. The body preserved in
the spooky food cellar is not in the position where it was left,
bells on graves from when people feared being buried alive ring, and
one and all cross themselves before using the crossed shaped keys.
Dripping candelabras and marble thrones set off the barren stone
interiors – not to mention the veiled figures among the sarcophagi
and headless statues. What should be an enchanting, spiritual place
is frightful and full of darkness amid vows of silence, ghostly
phantoms in the woods, maze like structures, and lone figures in
white among the stone columns. Vintage radios and old photographs
give the convent a war time look, and brief flashes of past exorcisms
gone wrong lead to snakes, empty coffins, and previous visions of
Madonna guidance. The characters' histories are directly involved in
the current good versus evil fight. Red glows and pointy gates lead
to an empty inner sanctum, perpetual adoration, and researching
leather bound volumes for our not so good friend Valak. The remaining
nuns hide behind locked doors – afraid to speak of Dark Age
history, witchcraft, rituals, and bloodletting. However, returning to
the village whispers breaks the ominous atmosphere and tales of
gateways to hell, monsters from below, crusader defenses, and recent
war bombings freeing something unholy. Although the snarling is more
effective when we don't see what we fear most, this shape shifter
terrorizes with separation, isolation, cracking bones, and demonic
winds as the spinning camera invokes a swoon, fainting against evil's
power. Incessant prayers, clenched rosaries, and lone candles don't
help against broken pews, demonic scratches, and pentagrams carved in
the flesh. We're disturbed by the habits with blacked out faces and
looking over our shoulders, doubting what we're seeing thanks to some
great deceptions – leaving the purely for the fantastics visuals
unnecessary. Old maps and blueprints lead to interior wells, sinking
catacombs, torches, drownings, stabbings with crosses, holy water,
and possessions. Sacrifices to stop the demon include relics of
Christ, holy sacraments, and sacred revelations in a whiff of
commentary about their being a time for prayer and a time for action.
It is however totally odd that the casting of Taissa Farmiga
(American Horror Story)
– sister of Conjuring
star
Vera – serves no onscreen purpose but to dupe viewers into thinking
it would lead to more. The rushed narrative also resorts to standard
horror trappings rather than taking its time with a very intriguing
story. Hammer would have
milked five movies out of this, and a prequel with all the crusader
versus witchcraft action leading up to this movie's opening death
seems more interesting than a sequel squeezed into The
Conjuring timeline.
Alas, the franchise connections are prioritized over truly realizing
the spiritual introspection – faith as a force against evil is
conveniently dropped for horror movie deus ex machina. Why does Valak
have to tease them in some kind of religious themed house of horrors
finale with typical whooshes to and fro? Fortunately, the
repossessions, levitation, vessels made unholy, and body sacred
re-sanctified keep this a mature and entertaining parable.
Unrealized
Potential
The Curse of La Llorna – Spanish lullabies, lockets, and 1673
Mexico sunshine open this 2019 tale also tied to The Conjuring
universe before murderous
figures in white, drownings, and screams. Come 1973, it's feathered
hair, typewriters, station wagons, and the family morning rush with
funky music to match as a widowed case worker investigates a violent
mother claiming she needs to keep her boys safe from the eponymous
lady – with candles, boarded windows, crosses, garlic, and more
protective talismans. Unfortunately, the authorities open the door
where her sons are hiding, and putting them in protective custody
leads to hospital scares, creepy corridors, phantom reflections, and
some terrifying little looks on their child faces. Bodies in the
river, red police sirens, sobbing ghosts, and veiled figures build
mood, however the big roars and in your face screeches intrude on the
chilling atmosphere. Kids in fear are upsetting enough – as is the
window that rolls down by itself. Although our ghostly lady is always
after a set of two boys, a weak reason is given for why she's
pursuing our case worker's boy and girl instead. Their late father
was apparently a religious, Hispanic cop, and chats with the priest
from Annabelle seemingly only
exist so our white mother can dismiss the spiritual cleansings at the
funeral, rosary gifts, and recommendations to have faith against
evil. Symbolic umbrellas shield the children before being ripped away
while pools, rain, and water of any kind become ominous. Her son
is trying to be brave, yet his mother doesn't notice the changes in
her kids' behavior or the burns on their arms. In fact, it's almost
more disturbing how the children become stoic and silent because they
know they won't be believed. Are we supposed to sympathize with a
white woman who intruded without listening and doesn't consider the
paranormal happenings until she receives a welfare check of her own?
Does the ghost continually scare and screech at the kids rather than
killing them and being done with it just so their mom can get a clue
thanks to the doors whooshing open by themselves? She certainly
doesn't recognize our lady despite being told exactly what she looks
like, and the audience also doesn't have enough time to get a chill
up our spines over her titular appearances in the mirror thanks to
time wasted on cliché frights. The creepiest moments come when the
dead hands reach out for a little girl in the bath tub – there's no
music or camera excess, just held under terror. Outside of the
seventies touches in beginning, the busy editing, zooms, and
crescendos make this story feel too contemporary, and CGI Los Angeles
skylines are useless in setting the spooky scene. Tablecloths,
curtains, and linens obviously become billowing ghost skirts, and our
medieval figure almost looks out of place rather than scary thanks to
the frustrating horror mistakes made by our current mother – like
holding the door knob is really going to keep the phantom in the
bathroom, and it's her children who remain in jeopardy while she
doesn't take this threat seriously. Three people recount the
eponymous consequences twice each, but the church has technicalities
about this sort of ritual and can't condone if she seeks the local
shaman instead. The protection methods, however, are scoffed at as
silly tricks, and I suppose not everyone grew up with a superstitious
Italian nonne like me, because no one knows how to pray or spread
salt, and the candles, crosses, and sage are treated like Mystical
101 against this equally foreign evil. Fading in and out snippets
montage the finale like a trailer with wind whooshes and more human
stupidity as a plot device. Although watchable for its attempted
ethnic strides, this devolves into one unnecessary set piece after
another, resorting to modern horror trappings rather than embracing
its own folklore. If you are really interested in atmospheric
pictures steeped in Catholicism and Mexican traditions, it's better
to stick with the Abel Salazar classics like the 1961 Curse of the Crying Woman or the 1931 Spanish Dracula. Ultimately, I'd
rather have seen the colonial crimes of passion here instead.
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