A Christmas Carol (2019)

 

Thought Provoking and Mature A Christmas Carol (2019)

by Kristin Battestella

To allow himself rest in the afterlife, the deceased Jacob Marley (Stephen Graham) aides The Ghosts of Christmas Past (Andy Serkis), Present (Charlotte Reily), and Future (Jason Flemyng) in orchestrated a change for good in his soulless, corrupt business partner Ebenezer Scrooge (Guy Pearce). Scrooge's bitter ways effect the health, happiness, and welfare of his clerk Bob Cratchit (Joe Alwyn) and his wife Mary (Vinette Robinson), but confronting Scrooge's horrible life may not be enough to redeem the miser...

The 2019 BBC miniseries A Christmas Carol produced by Ridley Scott (Prometheus) and Tom Hardy (Venom) is a darker imagining of the perennial Charles Dickens tale with episodic chapters originally called “The Human Beast,” “The Human Heart,” and “A Bag of Gravel” airing stateside on FX as one three hour event. Director Nick Murphy (The Last Kingdom) and writer Stephen Knight (Peaky Blinders) obviously have more time to fill than the more traditional, idyllic, paired down tellings. Rather than the same old saccharin “God bless us, everyone!” these days viewers expect television to bring on the relatable Victorian bitterness. We often glorify the past, but this A Christmas Carol doesn't underestimate an audience intimately familiar with weighing every action by gain mentalities and who you know and how much money you have getting you anywhere in life uphill struggles, abuses, and humiliation. Urination, grave desecration, bastards and F bombs immediately set this adult tone before ominous winds, crows, eerie graveyards, and a frosty ethereal London 1843. Church bells, purgatory supernatural, and almost Shakespearean asides accent the six feet under coins on the eyes and no rest in peace as hellish forges, chains, and swinging coffins invoke a much more grim penance. Phantom sleighs dragging the chained behind lead to echoes between the counting house and the spirit realm. Rattling in the fireplace and cutaways to the point of view from an empty chair realistically lay the forthcoming between worlds – embracing the Victorian off kilter faerie parallel rather than just a sudden, mere holiday intervention as is often portrayed. Time is taken in A Christmas Carol with hand washing a la Lady Macbeth and ghostly versus guilt ticking clocks. Hypocritical analysis digs deeper than humbug archetypes, and great horror imagery sets off the familiar but transposed text delivered deftly and naturally without any try hard ye oldeth. Villainous silhouettes grow darker when we get the famous workhouses, prisons, and let them die disturbing. Shadows and black horses take the place of the locomotive on the stairs as other animal kindnesses born out of cruelty and hopeful lantern flashes contrast the creaking gate and ghostly door knocker. While most adaptations have a quick start or only run eighty minutes themselves, here it takes an hour before we even get to the Scrooge and Marley encounter. This A Christmas Carol simmers and broods, for these apparitions have been a long time coming with thumps in the night, groaning houses, clicking locks, and guilty consequences. Chilling reasons for that scarf usually around Marley's jaw become macabre shocks as A Christmas Carol takes the hallmarks of a story that's tough to do wrong and runs with the one on one encounters, twofer deliveries, and fiery flashbacks. Faulty subcontracts and bribing officials led to bloody workhouse disasters, gas explosions, and coal mine collapses while Scrooge passed the blame and forged those symbolic chains.

The refreshing script simplifies the Dickensian wordiness yet we do get some of the sardonic undigested beef quips amid self-aware glances at the camera and eternity spent in a forest of abandoned Christmas trees and forgotten childhood memories. An act of kindness said to be given to someone in pain is rejected as the abused perpetuate abuse, dealing in greed and people as commodities. Those scarred mentally and physically by the cruel, cost cutting overseers rightfully call upon revenge like a reverse It's A Wonderful Life orchestrating this spiritual comeuppance. Snowfall and ash in the air mix as other realms and childhood fears merge with violent canes, creepy singsongs, and pets caught in the chilling crossfire in a house that can't afford another mouth to feed. Hiding behind the bed curtains is used to frightful effect as A Christmas Carol shows what the book implies yet leaves nasty suggestions to the shadows. Hope, however, can be found small as a mouse, big as a camel, or even in fanciful book illustrations come to life to save a boy's mind from his torturous reality. Unfortunately, people are only worried about themselves. Gifts are just unwritten debts and unprofitable affections. These spirits force us to relive the darkest moments of the picture we paint so we may unlearn the ills that have shaped who we are. Here A Christmas Carol feels timely and modern, layering the past with disturbing familiar faces and real world terrors that harden a boy's heart and break our Christmas spirit. Magical deflections, pleas to go home, and facing the horrors combine for superb duality and visualizations as children may or may not see spirits and two of the same character appear in the same place at once. Loom factories become massive calculators in an industrial fantasy hitting home the cold hard numbers. Tragedy for many is opportunity for the few, and that's just good business to see pounds instead of people and exploit their weaknesses accordingly. Shameful humiliations done on Christmas Day are born not out of desire, but agonizing experiments testing the solemn limits of what good people will do for money. Viewers contemplate how far A Christmas Carol will go in examining the the value of human virtue, and Merry Christmas greetings are said for all the wrong reasons – justifying the prayers, warnings, and curses that one day the truth will look us in the mirror. Mining survivors unite in memorial choirs, and the poor make up the difference with happiness and love instead of itemizing priceless intangibles. Halos at the altar suggest salvation, but admitting regret or that love came too late to stop hatred isn't enough against chilling figures in the dark, haunting drownings, cracking ice, and death shrouds. Tolling bells and heartbeats announce the fatal consequences as we accept our deserved fate. For all the spirited meddling, it is up to us to change and act for the benefit of others without expectation of reward as A Christmas Carol concludes in full Dickensian compassion.

The First Chapter of A Christmas Carol is excellent as is the second. However, when expanding such a short novella, the balance is bound to be uneven. Here Christmas Past is featured for almost an hour and a half – leaving twenty minutes for The Ghost of Christmas Present and only ten minutes for The Future. After such depth with The Past, viewers wonder why Andy Serkis just didn't play one composite spirit? Upon moving on from him with only forty-five minutes left, suddenly this A Christmas Carol is rushed, running out of time, and on the same pace as any other adaptation. Onscreen Christmas Eve 1843 openings don't match Marley's 1842 grave marker and the supposed seven years since his passing, but nor do the 1851 death dates. The melancholy focus will tire some audiences, yet the quick finale feels like this should have been longer – a four hour, two night event. All that Past just opened Scrooge up so The Present can show warmth by making him wear a scarf and tinge his heart in a third of the time? The often excised Ali Babi brings a dash of childhood wonder into such grim, but making The Ghost of Christmas Present a woman to soften up Scrooge negates the progressive gender change and defeats the purpose of ditching young Scrooge's for love or money choice. While losing the seemingly essential festive Fezziwig works wonders, the exclusion of eavesdropping on Nephew Fred's is a missed opportunity when you've made his mother The Ghost of Christmas Present. The Past repeatedly tells Scrooge this is not a game – long after Scrooge stops making passive aggressive asides – but Fred's mocking his uncle and Scrooge's family resentment would have fit in well with this bitter A Christmas Carol. Viewers begin to notice famous wording and elements missing. Did we skip an episode? Did the editor loose a reel? My favorite moment with Ignorance and Want is also excised when the decrepit child motifs would have fit these acerbic themes, and the casting lots on the bed clothes bargaining is another profiting on death horror that is surprisingly absent as if the writers simply didn't finish adapting the fourth stave of the book or the production plum ran out of time and money. At times A Christmas Carol doesn't seem to trust what it has in these exceptional performances and the timeless source material, adding in extra dialogue when looking at the camera directly implies the fourth wall is already broken and the spiritual work is coming for us next. Some truly good or innocent and in tune characters are said to see the usually invisible Scrooge and company – a haunting provocation wonderfully bringing this seeming radical A Christmas Carol right back to Dickens, for “I am standing in the spirit at your elbow.”

Occasionally Guy Pearce (Brimstone) looks top hat debonair as Ebenezer Scrooge, but the greased hair, liver spots, curled lip, and scratchy voice are look foul decrepit to match the black ink said to run through his veins. According to Scrooge, gifts are falsely sought and dressed in ribbons to create artificial happiness and fake grins. No one really means their tidings of joy, and the December 25 dates, wise men, and snow in Palestine “facts” are just more perpetuated lies revealing who we presume to be and who we really are on Christmas or any other day. If such yule transformations were true, then why aren't we such lambs every day with one day of misery to say what we really mean? Scrooge remains isolated in his office, looking out his window on the noisy world as time is taken for his extrapolated soliloquies on pretense and humbug. However, even the camera pulls back when he approaches, recoiling at his despicable holiday honesty. Scrooge is obsessed with counting, an OCD itemizing when he's frustrated by poor fools and pesky specters. After talking to himself and almost missing Marley, Scrooge is angry at the deceased's appearance, defiant, and regrets nothing. Although put in his place early with scary past confrontations, he uses his history to justify why he is this way but not that he needs to change. Shrewd Scrooge buys liquidating business under price before selling them at true value and smiles at the wheeling and dealing done in his prime. He even tells The Ghost of Christmas Past to write off a new coat as a business expense if subjects keep clawing and crying on his robe. Repeatedly rationalizing every profit over human cost and exploiting all opportunities despite any anguish, Scrooge revels in dangling the keys to his safe before the desperate. Once defensive and refusing to look, he grows ashamed of his actively cruel behavior in an excellent dual performance contrasting past and present Scrooge side by side. Scrooge practices positive greetings in the mirror but looks more creepy doing so. He doesn't know how to change even if he admits he may do things differently if given the chance, for it was his own innocence sold that spurred this solidarity with money. Scrooge regrets and apologizes, trying to break the spirit rules and interfere yet he refuses redemption. He accepts he was wrong and deserves to not be forgiven as softer hair and nicer skin suggest his revitalization. Scrooge runs through the street like George Bailey, closing his business and giving away money. Payoffs won't make everything right but he has to start being a better person somewhere. Don't we all? Although I wish we heard some of the traditional wording from him – and I want to make his long dress coat – once again I ask where the awards are for Guy Pearce. Sometimes, he also looks like Sean Bean here. I hadn't noticed this before and now I demand they play brothers in future yearly gothic holiday adaptations. Van Helsing, Jekyll and Hyde, yes please. Pleasepleaseplease please!

Instead of just saying he sat beside Scrooge and tried to reach him, Stephen Graham's (This is England) restless Jacob Marley has much more to do. Marley anchors the transitions between counting house and underworld as the realms bleed through like a double negative. He wants his own absolution and needs Scrooge to get him such Clarence-esque wings, deepening the potential penance via his own encounters with the Ghost of Christmas Past. Anguished Marley thinks he'll be stuck in purgatory forever if his redemption hinges on Scrooge. He believes their reality was a choice, also appearing after the spirits to admit how wrong they were in life, and it's fascinating to see his realization as the culmination rather than the impetus of A Christmas Carol. Andy Serkis (Lord of the Rings) looks like an undead, ancient Santa as the Ghost of Christmas Past – a cranky minder of souls perpetually burning forgotten holiday hopes. The character also appears as the evil Scrooge Senior in pure horror torment as well as the literary friend Ali Baba in bittersweet moments. His eerie hood is not the sentimental sprite we expect, and the dried wreath on his head carries a crown of thorns, Christ-like innocence lost. Instead of the distinguishing cap, a zoetrope hat casts past shadows on the wall in an excellent visualization of the then-new to see the old. Weary over Scrooge's excuses, The Past sends progressive Ghost of Christmas Present Charlotte Riley (The Take) in the guise of sister Lottie Scrooge in a lovely change again deserving of much more than repetitive family exposition and narrating already seen actions from characters that could have said everything themselves. Logical Lottie understands Scrooge's past pain, combining the scientific and sensitive to confront Scrooge before the mouth sewn shut, grave digger-esque Jason Flemyng (X-Men: First Class) as The Ghost of Christmas Future enters tolling a broken bell. He's said to be the most terrifying of the spirits and the one who ultimately decides Scrooge's fate, but unfortunately, he doesn't really appear to do anything but provide the disturbing Tiny Tim fate. The Past had equally frightening moments, and The Future merely disappears as Scrooge ultimately amends on his own.

Joe Alwyn (also in Mary Queen of Scots with Pearce) doesn't really stand out for me among the numerous lookalike blonde boy band type actors abound these days. His Bob Cratchit seems somewhat young, weak, and ineffectual, but that is fitting for an overworked father trying to keep his meager family together. Scrooge thinks four lumps of coal is more than reasonable despite his clerk's frozen ink and continues to rag on him for a word misspelled once five years ago. Exasperated Bob insists he doesn't get angry and do his work perfectly to spite Scrooge. He doesn't hate his employer and remains kinds to Scrooge, asking if he is himself when they have such surprisingly frank conversations on this peculiar Christmas Eve. Bob has to toe the line between passive aggressive asides and really talking back or standing up to his boss. He tells Scrooge he knows indeed how precarious his situation is, making us wonder why “situation” as synonymous for “job” fell out of terminology when the family to feed or ill health reasons why one toils should be paramount. Vinette Robinson's (Sherlock) Mary Cratchit is frazzled and snippy, making excuses to her husband and sketching stories for Tiny Tim because they have no money for books. Only having two little Cratchits and a relative aptly named Martha tightens the familial focus, and Mary resorts to terrible secrets and forgoes her pride in a desperate need to save her son. She prays to be forgiven for what she has to do and asks Jesus to turn his head over such blackmail and lies. The holiday means Mary has to revisit one terrible Christmas every year, repeatedly going outdoors rather than face the congested weight and manifested guilt as the spiritual influences come full circle. Rather than then the usual poor but happy brevity, A Christmas Carol develops The Cratchits as conflicted people, embodying how the one who has to power to alleviate their suffering can cause more oppression without having to lay a creepy hand on anyone.

The titular icicle script ekes out the ghostly etching with a cold nib to match the frosted windows and meager candle flame frigid. Snow abounds alongside carriages, street lamps, sleighs, ice skating, and crowded streets. However, there are precious little signs of Christmas in A Christmas Carol. No holly, few wreaths or plain garlands, no old fashioned merry, and the only jolly comes in brief carol notes and fiddle melodies cut short. While the night time blue tint is easier to see, the over saturation may be intentionally noticeable and otherworldly. There are also some unnecessary swooping pans over the cobblestone streets but fortunately these are only used early on to set the Londontown bustle versus the paranormal underbelly. Stage-like blocking, lighting schemes, and careful attention to detail visualize characterizations with gleams of light shining through the windows as natural, hopeful rays or framing dark silhouettes as needed. The counting house office is divided between a brighter front and a darker back office with a wall of ledgers between rooms that the clerk must repeatedly go around to talk to Scrooge. Intercut foreshadowing between worlds leaves onscreen space for characters on another plane, subtly establishing Scrooge and Marley's partnership even if the men are technically not together in the same scene. Echoing footsteps, bells, chimes, and creaking invoke period as well as horror amid hellish red fireplaces and disturbing imagery. Pox marks and sullen pallors match the tattered gloves and shabby bonnets on the poor while slightly more refined styles set the wealthy apart with top hats, ascots, waistcoats, pocket watches, and frock coats. A Christmas Carol looks the early Victorian part without relying on the expected women's silhouette thanks to fantastical cloaks, steampunk touches, and choice special effects. Dark upon dark schemes set off the horror visuals and cave ins as the fog and frigid grow inside as well as out in the largely empty interiors. Groaning walls and a growing bed are ominous without being overbearing. The optical tricks are simple with slow zooms or camera cuts to where a spirit might be, leaving the chill up the spine carried by one's looking over his shoulder and frightful reaction shots – as the scares should be.

Certainly there are more genteel family friendly adaptations of A Christmas Carol, and this decidedly darker spin won't be for those seeking any lighthearted Dickensian comforts. It also takes planning to settle in for the whole three hour block stateside. Although the chapter title cards are retained and once we're on this retrospective journey it's tough to stop, having had the original UK episodic format would solve the dreary, dragging complaints. I watched this multiple times to pause and take notes, and there are more insights the more you watch. Despite an uneven weakness rushed in the latter half, the redemption arc fits this darker tone. Here there's no overnight exuberance, and it makes the viewer consider how fast and superficial other interpretations now seem when the longer television format allows for such grim, thought provoking extrapolation. It leaves one wanting more of this A Christmas Carol, and it's unabashed look in the mirror is watchable beyond the holiday season – paralleling the words herein to be the best person we can be daily rather than just faking it at Christmas.

Fiery 80s Chillers 🔥

 

Fiery 80s Chillers! 🔥

by Kristin Battestella

These early eighties frights mix fire, brimstone, kills, and chills for nostalgic entertainment, bemusement, and scary extremes.

Don't Go in the House – Rumbling fires, intense heat, garbage incinerators, and dangerous explosions set the fiery mood for this 1980 psychological chiller. Askew angles, shabby wallpaper, and a sullied manor in disrepair carry disturbing childhood echoes while natural sounds made sinister and simple things like lighting the pilot light or longing looks over the matches create characterization. Time is taken for silent gasps, repeated screams, and hearing voices. Our dead mother won't wake up, and her adult son is finally able to play the groovy music as loud as he wants, toss the doilies aside, and put his feet on the furniture. The juvenile bedroom is too small, and the pathetic slow burn escalates to creepy flashbacks of being held over the flame. Mom enjoyed taking out the man leaving on her boy and burning the evil out of him. Today movies are always so up up up without this shock and relief roller coaster to tug our feelings. The old fashioned holding down the receiver lulls us with careful anticipation and pleas before disturbing gear, flame retardant suits, and gasoline lead to blunt violence, chains, and brutal screams. It's cold outside, everyone is bundled up, and the car won't start, but it's always the quiet, regular guy that no one suspects who has fireproof rooms to stash a dead body or two. The voices and imagined specters are off kilter but not in your face jump shocks while fiery dreams, orange flames, and blue accents add to the detached state of mind and symbolic stairs. There's no elaborate snapping scene, just a downward spiral into madness. A phone call from a co-worker represents the tangible outside world, but the torched bodies don't listen when they are spoken to, kissed, or slapped. Women are evil and homoerotic undertones layer the script before a cathartic moment of solace in going to church for holy water to put out the flames. Religion both caused his guilt yet could still purify all, but a night out at the disco leads to flashing lights, smoke, red dresses, boobs, and babes as the sin comes full circle. Ticking clocks, zooms, and giggling girls make for a fiery finale focusing on the internal torment rather than a set piece spectacle, and this realistic horror in the home does the mirror to nature that quality horror should.

Hell Night – Bonfires, groovy tunes, pranks, parties, and wet t-shirts are rad fun in this 1981 college slasher starring Linda Blair (The Exorcist). Suave eighties dudes match the sideways ponytails, ye olde costumes, vintage cars, and Quaaludes before pledges must stay the night in an abandoned manor with killer history and murderous mongoloids. The frat boys have set up the scares and spooky stunts, grossing out the crowd with tales of monstrous births and fireplace poker bludgeons, and it's fun to have this campfire telling format rather than the contemporary herky jerky strobe flashback snippets and fall backs. Rumors of missing relatives and not all the bodies being found frighten our plebs while candles, gothic gates, and gargoyles provide a dash of period piece atmosphere. The nostalgic excess is somewhat tame these days, however the whiff of classism adds thematic weight as the poor kids make deals to fit in and the rich kids bemoan the forced fraternities and family legacies. Scream sound effects, audible groans, ghostly overlays, rattling chains, and secret speakers build up the fake frights, but tunnels under the house, hidden passages, creepy hands, and swinging axes leave heads rolling. It is bemusing when the fun house phony and the real scares aren't so discernible now because both are dated effects, but skeletons jump out of the closet and even snakes in a can make an appearance. Although hammy, of the time dialogue occasionally hampers the unseen ominous and the self aware running gags can be uneven, the blood and snapping necks build suspense. Hedge mazes, saucy silhouettes, red lingerie, voyeuristic angles, and gory cuts accent the chills when our killer approaches the bed for under the covers shockers. The on edge escalates with perilous climbs over those spiky gates and a reluctant return inside to search for those missing. The foreboding house is only seen at night, and the police won't help during the titular, notorious prank week either. Repeat chases go on a little long, the low body count is spread thin, and the literal key to escape is there the entire time. Fortunately, for every stupid – like walking into a police station and leaving with a loaded rifle no problem whatsoever – there's a chilling approach in the dark leading to cobwebs, rats, corpses, and horror. This could have been a little better and the inadvertent humor can make or break a viewing today depending on your mood, yet this remains a fun late night October romp.

Invitation to Hell – Transplanted mid-westerners Joanna Cassidy (Blade Runner) and Robert Urich (Spenser: For Hire) must keep up with the Joneses and join Susan Lucci's (All My Children) suburban country club cult in this 1984 television movie directed by Wes Craven (A Nightmare on Elm Street). Red pantsuits, big hair, bemusing yet disturbing car accidents, and smoking revenge provide sinister style before the vintage station wagon driving montage complete with all the new job and familial exposition. Giant computers, shiny high tech buildings, big gadgets, flashing light panels, and space suits are now retro futuristic to match the payphones, record player, ten inch boob tube, and old school buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken. However this science fiction meets traditional horror format allows time to know the realistic couple – a hardworking but absentee father in cutthroat research and development and the previously meek, stressed wife ready to hob nob with these luxury friends after years of struggling. Familiar faces accent the posh spa robes, ominous fog, exclusive ancient springs, and upscale occult for the Reagan era, but the secretary telling secrets gets replaced and divisive vixens tempt our couple with wealth, power, and pleasure in an intriguing underlying commentary on corporations and peer pressure. Encouraging the wife and kids to join the club without dad leads to sultry Stepford knives in the kitchen, dog reactions, growling children, and a redesign of their gothic villa into some ugly, severe mod thing. Fortunately, the worst pets in peril and fatal runs off the road are told rather than seen; the fantastical elements accent the people in turmoil in an otherwise grounded story veiled with patriarchal symbolism, good versus bad families, and who's a loser if he's not in with the in crowd. That experimental space suit is also convenient at the cult Halloween party amid villains dressed as Nazis, devilish deceptions, and feisty titular imagery. Music and screams from the depths below anchor visuals that do a lot with very little – although the brief neon reverse negative switch and easy destructive end are...unfortunate. Viewers have to expect these movie of the week scares are just dated fun. I mean, If you can't appreciate a spacesuit that labels Susan Lucci as a “non-human malignant” named Jessica Jones that's on you. Thankfully, the personal connections being the power to overcome evil are more important here.

Bonus Documentary!

In Search of Darkness: Part II The Journey into 80s Horror Continues – This 2021 Shudder follow up focuses on slightly obscure and international eighties horror via four hours more of genre scholars and fan favorites such as Clancy Brown, Nancy Allen, Linnea Quigley, Tom Savini, and Robert Englund. The stars discuss falling in love with Universal Horror, Hammer, Hitchcock, and what influences scared them amid yearly recollections of Dario Argento, Tenebrae, and Giallo Horror's disturbing intimacy. Depraved, rapacious shockers like Mother's Day and Humanoids of the Deep would not be made today, yet the demented social commentary, fear, and violence rise above terrible dubbing for universal appeal. Colorful sensory effects, effective blood, and memorable shockers cause cinema walkouts and hateful reactions as the genre pushes the envelope too far with misogyny and Asian stereotypes. Dead & Buried and Dressed to Kill prove the acting, versatility, emotions, and A list stars remain impressive – called upon to be humorous, in fear, and credible amid the slashers and Cannibal Holocaust extremes. More statements come with The Being, The Keep, The Bride, and A Nightmare on Elm Street 2 while child protagonists in peril as in Cujo contrast the preposterous or endearingly absurd and franchise sequels or parodies like Saturday the 14^th. Multi genre explorations provide high artistry, laughter, and low thrills – nudity, meta, and screams thanks to The Black Cat, Terror in the Aisles, House, Little Shop of Horrors, and Demons. Unfortunately, censorship, UK video nasty stigmas, and fickle Hollywood tastes left sequels unmade and original scripts turned into unrecognizable clones and bad camp like Ghoulies. However, Prom Night II doesn't apologize for its own sexuality, and Robert Englund is aware of the goofy, ironic toys made of nasty Fred Krueger as merchandising and video games advance alongside clever effects and experimentation seen Waxwork, Night of the Demons, and John Carpenter's Prince of Darkness. Beetlejuice brings the wild fun mainstream, yet by 1989 there's room for new filmmakers like Peter Jackson and Bad Taste. Character studies that get under your skin like Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer continue to resonate with vicarious viewers and horror makers. In today's snarky tone, the segments allowing for stars to talk about themselves would appear self serving, but here it's wonderful for them to see the impact of their work and hear their reflections. While at times perhaps too obscure, die hard genre fans can laugh at the low budget creature features nostalgia and celebrate the forgotten sleepers, cult favorites, and gory highlights.

True Horror Tales

 

True Horror Tales

by Kristin Battestella

Shocking true crimes and real world horrors come alive thanks to these demented dramas and chilling documentaries past and present.

In Her Skin – Problematic legalese made this 2009 Australian true story starring Miranda Otto (Lord of the Rings), Guy Pearce (Lockout), and Sam Neill (Dead Calm) obscure, but lovely landscapes, pretty dancing, and original songs contrast the dark skies, empty trams, and every parent's worst fear. A daughter doesn't return home, and the episodic acts focus on the parents, killer, and victim before the inevitable malevolence. The number of days since the disappearance anchors frantic phone calls and television pleas as parents stand in the street calling their daughter's name and reluctant police think it's just a runaway case. Blasé officials see these cases everyday, but emotions are high for the family facing this awful new experience. Mom turns to her own mother while dad consoles the younger siblings. Each tries to keep it together – afraid to break despite such extreme circumstances before delayed reactions, sobs, and swoons. Sensuality, nudity, love, and sex are also shown in different dynamics; the young bloom versus the ugly body dysmorphia and the tenderness between couples before revelry in the brutally suggestive strangulation, near orgasmic self loathing release, and ejaculation-like spit in the difficult to stomach crime. Panning camera work, demented voiceovers, fantasy-esque flashbacks, and windswept distortions are spooky and slightly off kilter, getting viewers inside our killer's state of mind alongside disturbing letters and violent artwork. Her devious sense of empowerment bullies the trusting innocence, consuming the sweet ballet grace and leaving the body to rot in the bathtub. A chilling calm and smiling exterior belies the angry journals and nasty outbursts as the slovenly thrives on the decay. Opportunities to improve are turned away amid suggested Electra undertones, inappropriate strip downs, and obsession from the award worthy Ruth Bradley (Humans). Rather than change the psychotic, our killer is happy in the delusion that she is wild and free with sweeping nature shots, sky motifs, and out of body overhead views reflecting her warped blossoming. She even calls the bereaved to offer support – but knows too much and speaks in the past tense. Today it's difficult for us to believe no one noticed or provided mental health intervention, and the eventual sentence is light for such a premeditated crime. Fortunately, the great performances carry the perhaps disjointed style. The sense of grief, shock, and disturbing are realistically stilted and uncomfortable. The psychological chilling and villainous portrayal are tough to watch yet this intriguing, well done drama is worth re-watching.

In Search of Darkness: A Journey into Iconic 80s Horror – This four hours plus Shudder labor of love brings together horror scholars and familiar faces including Heather Langenkamp, Alex Winter, John Carpenter, Jeffrey Combs, Joe Dante, Joe Bob Briggs, Cassandra Peterson, Keith David, and more. Retro graphics and old school cues match the nostalgic discussion alongside behind the scenes anecdotes and reflections on the shoulder pads of the MTV generation and Reaganomics priming the era for horror excess. Forty years ago, horror was bottom barrel easy to make with pre-prestige stars and low budget necessity bringing about innovative smoke and mirrors. Tent poles like Friday the 13th, The Shining, and Scanners begat an increasingly polished artistry while sub genres, slashers, and suburban scares lead to scream queens, money makers, and mainstream appeal with Nightmare on Elm Street, Poltergeist, and The Howling versus An American Werewolf in London. VHS makes films readily available for the first time before late night cable, direct to video's shrewd cover art appeal, and no spoilers to ruin Sleepaway Camp. Silence, new sounds, and electronic influences accent the practical effects gore of The Thing and Evil Dead, yet believable fears and realistic performances set off holiday horrors and ahead of their time mind or body and machine allegories. Re-Animator and Fright Night embrace the past while winking at the genre, however disappointing imitations, franchise formulaic, and 3D gimmicks struggle amid censorship and potential X ratings. Terrorizing children is a no no, but Gremlins is ripe for merchandising even as Hellraiser's slick mature and more visceral sequels make viewers uncomfortable as great horror should. Near Dark and The Lost Boys upend the vampire genre while strong women persevere – overcoming the sexual taboos, objectification, and victimization despite gratuitous nudity and teenage rites of passage. Child's Play responds to Wall Street greed and consumerism as our misfit genre grows darker by the end of the decade, fashioning cathartic, scary statements that still influence film today. This frightening legacy flows in chronological order with a fine checklist of favorites, obscure titles, and movie highlights. Unlike today's increasingly sardonic narrations and clip shows all but mocking their subjects, the variety of presenters free to talk causally without any intruding veneer is refreshing. One wonders why we ever left this kind of format for easily digestible snarky, as this straightforward celebration of scary gives loyal horror fans what they want.

The Legend of Lizzie Borden – Elizabeth Montgomery (Bewitched) brings home this 1975 television movie while carriages, church bells, and the hysterical maid set the murderous 1892 Fall River, Massachusetts scene. The video transfer looks poor with flat colors and the low budget dark interiors aren't quite what we know from the infamous pictures. However, the hats, frocks, fluttering skirts, and fanning oneself in the heat set off co-stars Fionnula Flanagan (The Others) and Katherine Helmond (Who's The Boss?). Confusion at the crime scene and cracks in the story come early – who was where and when, the maid called by the wrong name, the stepmother's body found by the bedside, one and all shocked and horrified save for Lizzie. She's so calm when asked if she killed her father, chill when the authorities arrest her amid prayers, sisterly promises, and creepy coffins. The seventies horror zooms and ominous tone may have been edgy for television of the day, but the courtroom drama balances the unreliable flashes, tonics, and nasty household suggestions. Interrogations and testimony give the timeline of events, inheritance motives, and well documented specifics while witness flashbacks recall the stern Mr. Borden, his cranky Mrs., and their insistence on cheap food and hard work – much to Lizzie's chagrin. At first, it may be tough to imagine our beloved Samantha as the alleged murderess, but her foreboding, stuck up stature works. Unsympathetic Lizzie wants to wear the latest fashions for her trial and has every comfort in her jail cell. She faints at the thought of a death by hanging sentence, vowing that she cries in private but wants the public to know via softball newspaper interviews. Lizzie delights in another's misery and browbeats her sister, a demented little princess playing into the delicate lady expectations when on the stand. She spins a different gentility with every question, polluting the facts with uncertainties as she recalls eating pears la di da when the violence apparently happened. Even the judge wonders if she were a man who was at the scene of a crime with a contradictory, revisionist alibi would there be any question of guilt? The congested relationships and tense battle of wills over dresses with no blood, burned clothing, morphine versus memory, and acid inquiries escalate toward inadmissible excuses and forensic doubts. Choice dollies, editing splices, ticking clocks, mirror reflections, warped angles, and camera distortions match the fierce slices as the finale surmises the if I did it nudity and whodunit splatter. This is well done for its day with disturbing mood and a deliciously despicable Montgomery.

Horror Westerns, Yee Haw!

Horror Westerns, Yee Haw! 🤠

By Kristin Battestella

Pioneer perils are the perfect setting for the weird, morose, scary, and macabre! Here's a trio of contemporary takes on the horror meets western genre fusion – with mixed results.

The Burrowers – Innocent proposals and Dakota Territory picnics open this 2008 parable before hiding in the root cellar, mysterious holes in the ground, and unseen terrors. Inexplicable wounds and a strange lack of blood loss leave neighbors digging multiple graves as squeamish boys must grow up and join the rescue posse. Time is taken to introduce Crow guides, Freedmen, and Irish immigrants, but the us versus them racist dynamics are felt thanks to whips, hangings, torture, and mustache twirling cavalrymen who enjoy it. Titular translations are disbelieved or misinterpreted as convenient and valuable Ute information is ignored despite rustling in the night and disappearing men. Muted, realistic colors match the subdued banter. This is not outright humor a la Tremors, for here darker prejudiced issues and rapacious fears akin to The Searchers can be more deeply addressed. The eyes of the dead are shot out to leave their spirits blind and girls buried alive have scratching sounds coming from inside their bodies as horse injuries and blood splatter make us recoil. The camera is frantic within the action and horrors, however there is time for personal pauses and reflection on the gory moments, toxins, and paralysis. Shootouts, screams in the dark, what you can't see beyond the firelight, and desperate to stay awake delirium mar the increasingly difficult journey. Creatures are afoot but who's a “redskin” friend or foe is more important to white men who killed the buffalo and now deservedly find themselves on the menu. Rather than typical panoramic monster roar reveals, brief crawling glimpses and grass level views build suspense before painful bear traps, decomposing decoys, and a slurping feast. The CGI and effects may be poor today and daylight conveniences make the finale easy, but the body horror disturbing and focus on the horror metaphors over the usual in your face creature feature approach is refreshing. Hatred is more important than a potential monster cure, and the bitter cavalry clean up blaming it all on “injuns” makes for an effective manifest destiny commentary with multi-layered mirror to nature horror.

Promising but Flawed

The Wind – Director Emma Tammi (Into the Dark) opens this 2019 feminine horror western with blood, stillborns, and shallow graves. Eponymous breezes and echoing screams match the string discord and barren landscape. Some pioneers are leaving this bleak, violent territory while others ride for supplies before the harsh winter. Scary wolves, growling, and innate perils break the mundane silence and still isolation. There's prowling at the door and our Mrs. is rushing to reload. The population grows to four when another young couple arrives – a lone flickering light in the darkness between distant cabins where the land plays tricks on you. The changing dynamics and inability to adjust lead to hiding under the bed prayers and fears that something is coming to get you thanks to dead animals, buzzing flies, and repeated knocks at the door with no one there. Symbolic water, rain, and hand washing scenes contrast reading The Mysteries of Udolpho and Frankenstein aloud as the candles blow out and the Bible buried in the grave is somehow back on the doorstep. Our new lady is pregnant and seeing things amid howling, shadows on the curtain, and precious, dwindling matches. Demons of the prairie fiction escalates to hidden diaries, illicit scandals, and unexpected ghosts as warnings not to be out after dark go unheeded. Unfortunately, the silent disjointed scenes are deliberately confusing. Why chop up your story when the tension should stand on its own shocking? Perhaps the cut away scares are meant to create disorientation, but the noticeable movie making weakens all the momentum, losing the surreal purgatory immersion and frazzled state of mind. An out of order narrative still telling something cohesive is fine, but distracting viewers with loud cues between random scene changes cheats us out of being alone with the characters because we're too busy piecing together what we already suspected at the start. Disturbing revelations, black smoke, and evil disguised as the dead descend toward jealousy and madness in excellent, uninterrupted scenes. However, the typical across the floor whooshes and ambiguous ending are frustrating and deceptive, pulling the rug out from under the audience. The frantic performance, brooding scares, and eerie atmosphere are great, but messing with the viewer via cinematic constructs dampens the taut paranoia – which should have been told organically.

You Make The Call

Dead Birds – Confederate soldiers turned bank robbers hide out in a abandoned Alabama mansion in this 2004 tale starring Henry Thomas (E.T.) and Michael Shannon (Take Shelter). Mismatched uniforms, overgrown fields, swamp misdirection, and creepy scarecrows set off the gory slices, dead bodies, shootouts, head shots, and blood splatter. Lanterns, thunderstorms, horses, creepy barns, and noises under the bed begat deformed animals among the cornstalks, skeletons in the slave quarters, and spell books for raising the dead. Pointing fingers over the gold tensions and rattling on the outhouse door frights work when we don't see anything, however creepy kids with typical blacked out eyes, roar mouths, and under the bed jump scares don't advance the slow burn meandering. Laughable women's fashions immediately draw viewers out of the 1863 disturbing, and the isolated build is laborious with multiple redundant shots and repeated lines to listen up and move on without actually doing so. Everything in the first half hour before they arrive at the manor could have been skipped, and ham fisted exposition on how this tenuous gang got together comes amid poor dialogue that's trying to sound Southern ye olde but has the wrong modern rhythm. A chilling old man ghost at the foot of the bed, voodoo dolls, the wounded being nearer to seeing spirits – there are pieces of something special here but the period fears and gold fever resort to contemporary horror by numbers. Contrived connections and disjointed strobe vignettes tell viewers about the sacrificial history rather than showing the characters really experiencing the macabre. The past terrors seem more interesting, and even at ninety minutes, this feels overlong because nothing much happens. Although late night watchable for the Southern Gothic mashups, the scares fall back on the same old same old rather than rely on the unique setting's strengths.

Want More delicious western horrors? Head over to InSession Film for our take on Ravenous and Brimstone! 

"A" Horrors List!

 

"A" Horrors list!

by Kristin Battestella

What happens when you alphabetize your Netflix queue? Three “A” horror movies in a row! Fortunately, these feminine horrors, period pieces, and cinema scares bring a decent “A” game, too.

Amulet – Debut writer and director Romola Garai's (Angel) 2020 feminine horror spin has many of the same faults as other writer/director combos in need of a fine tuning second eye. Overly arty shots, zooms, and angles that may or may not be significant pad a longer than necessary duration that's very slow, and the weird for the sake of it sometimes gets in the way of otherwise fine gore. The lack of subtitles and soft dialogue muddle what should be intriguing characterizations, and dual storytelling will be confusing to some thanks to dreams, flashbacks, and little explanation on who, where, and when. Nothing happens until the final fifteen minutes, leaving potentially fascinating monsters, demons, and magic without equal attention. Fortunately, haunting melodies and out of focus blurs immediately create unease and distortion amid foggy mountains, lovely forests, shelter cots, and hospital haggard. Seemingly kind nun Imelda Staunton (Harry Potter) sends our soldier to work in a cluttered fixer upper with dusty old things, shabby wallpaper, and a fearful young woman caring for her ill mother in the attic. Suspect cooking, ravenous seconds, and bite marks create innuendo between the bachelor and our pretty girl, but gross plumbing, bloody linens, black water, and an albino bat in the toilet bowl lead to freaky scares. Choking attacks, gutted fish squishes, knives, and stabs in a vaginal looking throat lead to confessed mistakes, rapaciousness, bone cracking revelations, and unforgiving ancient gods. Mirrored clues, cigarettes hints, and jewelry suggestions add to the deranged as supposedly good men still ain't shit. Shell motifs and a surreal reentering of the womb make for some wild scenery in the standout finale as man gets to know what a woman's lot in life feels like – and it is not an undeserved punishment. Although this won't be for everyone, the symbolic imagery and well done gore have heaps to say for fans of feminine horror.

Anguish – Bigas Lunas (Jamon Jamon) directs Zelda Rubenstein (Teen Witch) in this 1986 Spanish meta brimming with gross eyeballs, mama's boy killers, and onscreen warnings about subliminal suggestions and medical assistance in the theater lobby. Birds and knitting at home with mom should be quaint, but cages, snails, shells, and ticking clocks accent the bizarre relationship. Up close surgeries and poking and prodding around the eyes escalate to opera drowning out the screams and black tie snobbery marred with blood. Reverse countdowns, heartbeats, regression, and telepathic commands match the staircase fights and stabbing instruments as the violence is both precision and opportunistic. The squeamish audience watching The Mommy herein the dark cinema, however, can't look away as they eat their popcorn because, after all, it's only a movie. Hypnosis captivates the internal viewers, taking its time with the deceptive ebb and flow spiral imagery. Unlike today's desensitizing in your face and excessive slight of hand, seeing a person in fear helps us relate to the terror as it slows down, making room to ramp it up rather than just being out of control up up up numbing all the time. Precious few exterior establishing shots place but don't break immersion amid shrewd use of what's in and out focus and multiple layers of horror. Visually there's also a sense of depth; actions aren't 3D thrust out at us but characters within must move deeper and look around the corner as the doors are locked and the killer roams. Shushing spectators go on eating more popcorn regardless of the titular discomforts around them because the make believe cinema within a cinema mirror imagery is more important to them. Men in the ladies room chills and theater shootings are real world disturbing – a prophetic analysis on movie obsessions and how we view everything through someone else's lens. The films, tears, and violence merge thanks to panic and helplessness as the life imitating art goes too far. The only resource is “Let's go find a phone booth,” and mother takes matters into her own hands amid police in the projection room and hostages in front of the movie screen. The last resort is to stop the movie and turn up the lights, but the picture asks, “What are you looking at?” while the credits roll in this surprisingly smart commentary on our voyeuristic tendencies.

Apostle – Picturesque views, lovely mountains, and 1905 train whistles lead to shady docks, rough travels, and an isolated Welsh island commune in this 2018 Netflix Original starring Dan Stevens (Downton Abbey) and Michael Sheen (Underworld). Opium addicts are not up to the journey, but personal items are to be left behind, for “She” decides what to give or take. Three escapees founded the community with “Her voice” – the goddess of the island who saves those who are godless. Lanterns, creepy hymns, fire and brimstone sermons, and ghostly figures in the window escalate to spying and bloodlettings amid hidden doors under the rug, skeleton keys, and scary barns in the forest. Despite obvious Wicker Man inspirations; the poisoned crops, deformed animal births, recitations, and blasphemers don't underestimate the audience by pretending the moss, fog, caves, and mystical trees are innocent or quaint. Fears over low supplies, the king's ships, and infiltration begat swords, spears, torches, and threats. Ominous, pulsing music accents the shaking and withdrawals as the mysteries intensify thanks to shrieking old ladies suggesting earlier sirens, ancient writings, and goddess worship. Boxer Rebellion torment and burning crosses add to the previous loss of faith and unanswered prayers. Is anyone pure or is the divine an illusion? The Scriptures, however, come in handy for convincing the cult faithful to beware the wolf in sheep's clothing. Leaders who believed their original free society concept grow weary over the violence, crimes, and consequences as the community divides over innocent bloodshed. The turn of the century rural gives way to medieval-esque torture with purification rituals, gory cuts, black hoods, shackles, and false prophets. Man thinks he can imprison a goddess and control her, dictating who will be sacrificed or starved. The patriarchy doesn't want anything taken from it – especially control or its daughters – but the lies and manipulation assure the goddess will have her say. At over two hours, the slow burn grows flabby with too many tangents. It's difficult to believe so much happens in just a few days, and the organized religion bad but faith or natural worship good mixed messages commentary unravel with inconsistencies, rushing at the end when again a second pair of eyes would have helped writer and director Gareth Evans (The Raid). Although the religious food for thought mystery fumbles, the period mood and folk atmosphere here provide unique entertainment.

Yes, I still have a Netflix DVD queue. Don't judge me. 😁

The Innocents (2018)

 

Poor Start hurts the Intriguing The Innocents

by Kristin Battestella

The 2018 Netflix international production The Innocents opens the eight episode science fiction drama with perilous chases, cliff side pleas, and doppelgangers in “The Start of Us.” Multi lingual interrogations and so called Sanctum Norway communes for women in need of a special treatment create ominous while transformations, triggers, secrets, and agoraphobia invoke fear. Positive therapies go awry thanks to nightmares, tests, and sedatives while parents must make major decisions to keep the family safe. Roadside suspense, scary strangers, injections, and would be abductions lead to surprises and revelations in “Keep Calm, Come to No Harm.” Frantic body swaps and unknown medical conditions are no match for the titular mantras amid school troubles, police inquiries, and escalating experiments. Past fears raise the tension and pleas to stop the tests, but convulsions and pursuits lead to more shape shifting. The ladies must remember who they are to come back from each transformation as they wonder what terrible mothers they are and why they have this pain. “Bubblegum & Bleach” adds paranoia and jealously – relatives and cops aren't on the same page. Unfortunately, in the first three episodes of The Innocents, the suspicious Norway science takes a backseat to teen lipstick, love letters, and runaway dreams. Voiceovers lay on the lovey dovey when we could have met the romance in media res upon escape. Brief, fast moving, intercut scenes jumping from story to story don't let any build up get off the ground as back and forth emotions change without explanation. Adults are treated as foolish, dismissing information while the lovebirds don't immediately search a man's belongings even after he shows them a message about her mother's whereabouts. Details are withheld for contrived revelations quickly forgotten as the carefree teens run through the park holding hands. Despite dangerous roads and car accidents, the protagonists act too young to drive, much less rent hotel rooms. Seeing them half dressed and making out is weird, and for such an in love couple, sex doesn't initially even occur to them until drug hostels and dangerous influences. Neon lights, body glitter, and back room whips are downright ridiculous, and it's extremely tempting to fast forward through the overlong clubbing. It's not entertaining, nay it's terribly frustrating to see more intriguing characters held back so the least interesting youths can bungle into the conclusions viewers already know.

Thankfully, the fourth episode “Deborah” finally gets to the sci-fi backstory with flashbacks to disbelieving bar meetings and patients afraid of touching deemed paranoid schizophrenics. The shape shifting trauma can be controlled, but morphs into a pregnant nurse are disturbing. Unrequited feelings and mixing business with pleasure acerbate the identity questions as positive sessions lead to choices. Instead of a woman being defined by her man or as a mother, maybe she can have her own life. The performances and confrontations show what The Innocents can do when focused on the meatiest material, and one might even skip the first three episodes and begin here. Love can keep you calm or memories of losing it can be your trigger in “Passionate Amateur” as a viral video of a shifting encounter leads to our teens trusting anonymous strangers they meet on the internet. However, family investigations and abusing police jurisdiction provide better help or hindrance and tears over the inability to protect those that are different. Rare mixings of memories and mental questions about the shifting make for provocative complications, and “Not the Only Freak in Town” offers abusive connotations, couples divided, and injured loved ones. Characters pair up and demand answers as detectives consider the preposterous possibilities and women keep secrets from each other. Again, this is one of the better hours because the teen stories take a backseat to three special women around a campfire waxing on who they loved and never told, the men they were supposed to love and didn't, and making safe choices or taking a crazy midnight swim. They aren't monsters but there's no cure – and a warning from a rogue shifter suggests this Sanctum may not be what it seems. Genetic specifics and Norway suspicion is where The Innocents should have been all along, and the taut journey to this isolated island at the end of the world means there's nowhere to run. “Will You Take Me Too?” details the physiological reaction to emotional pressure and evolving shift experiences, but foolish arguments lead to water perils and boat mishaps. How do you save someone from drowning when you can't touch them? Switches among too many people leave some comatose, and men fight about past encounters that ruined more than one family. Idyllic reunions are too good to be true thanks to apologies, abandonment, and doing wrong for the right reasons. Just because you can get the answers you want doesn't mean you should. Community disruptions and compelling character pain fall back on entitled teen sappiness when The Innocents was going so well without it, but players say one thing and do another for “Everything. Anything.” Parents can't protect their children, and the past is distorted with failing memories, violence, and forced shifts. This therapy doesn't hold up under scrutiny, and those who object are unwelcome amid gunshots and excellent intensity as previous commune residents return. The Innocents is superb when it sticks with this not so perfect hamlet and its fantastical women who must face the consequences of their actions whether they are absolved in all the shifting or not. Conflicts between strong women's bonds and rival leeching men escalate toward excellent confrontations, extreme treatments, sacrifices, and betrayals.

Sorcha Groundsell's (Far from the Apple Tree) sheltered sixteen year old June McDaniel doesn't want to move away with her strict dad, and for all the in love hype, one wonders if she's only using her boyfriend Harry to escape. She puts a girl in a coma before she takes this shifting seriously yet still takes too long to deduce what's happening, toiling around London hostels for drinks, parties, and girl kisses. She's easily manipulated, a wishy washy follower bending to her environs without the shifting – going round and round on the sex and drug shifting metaphors while her increasingly annoying bad experiences ultimately take advantage of Harry. June's selfishness makes her very unlikable; she ignores the commune's delicate balance, sneaks around to get what she wants, and foolishly puts her mother Elena at risk. She never gets a clue despite every opportunity to learn, and Percelle Ascott (Wizards vs Aliens) as Harry Polk gives up everything because he's in love with June. He wants to call the police or return home, but June doesn't care if he is completely freaked and traumatized because he continually professes his love. Harry calls his mother and goes on job interviews, sticking with June even if he objects to her excitement at swapping lives. She needs him to keep herself calm, but June ignores when Harry's skeptical of meeting shifters on the internet. She dismisses his theories on other shifters using people, and we're glad when he tells her to stop being a poser, think for herself, and decide what she wants. Nonetheless, one warning phone call about Sanctum and he's in pursuit, loving her at the expense of himself. The metaphors are spot on when Harry ends up physically trapped, because he is wasting his life on being consumed by June. The Innocents' finale isn't an unfortunate cliffhanger but rather the inevitable conclusion. Mother Laura Birn (A Walk Among the Tombstones) likewise worries for June and struggles with her shifting therapy. Elena thinks this is not a gift but a curse. She fears she'll go mad if she recalls her past trauma, and we should have seen more of her story beyond brief flashbacks and arguments. She's not ready to meet June when she arrives at Sanctum, regretting her need to put herself first and afraid of what kind of bad mother she must be. Unfortunately, June rushes Elena, intruding on memories and revelations that aren't her business – ignoring her mother's warnings that love will only cause pain.

Doctor Guy Pearce (Lockout) says he's with a patient at every step, but Ben Halvorson has a checklist and won't let anything jeopardizing his work. He seems sensitive, helpful, even loving – Ben doesn't think he is the egotistical male villain – but he's clearly using these women to achieve his own goals. Ben will stay by his wife's bedside as needed but flies to London to retrieve June and tricks another cured patient ready to leave into staying by using her trigger phrase. He's enthralled by June and Elena's shifting capabilities and kicks other men out of Sanctum when not repeatedly selling his motivational what we do here is good speeches. Halvorson has some great revelations in last two episodes, and The Innocents should have delved into his duplicity more. Ingunn Beate Oyen's (Witch Hunt) Runa loves Ben and their work and encourages the other women despite their therapy fears, but her own early dementia and drinking is getting worse. Runa's proof the re-centering program works, but she's totally dependent on Ben and the illness puts her shifting at risk. She doesn't trust herself and grows jealous, angry, and afraid Elena and June will replace her. The best scenes in The Innocents are between Pearce and Oyen – Runa hides her condition and can't be consoled physically but won't spend her remaining time as herself crying, either. Unfortunately, the audience doesn't know what to make of Johannes Haukur Johannesson (Cursed) and his creepy contortions. Steinar's heartfelt backstory, emotional conversations, and tender moments conflict with the would be menacing chases and ominous pursuits, and the back and forth does the character a disservice. Sam Hazeldine (Prime Suspect) as John McDaniel also has his reasons for protecting his children yet they're angry at him for his regimented ways. John writes a humble birthday card to his daughter and facilities an isolated annex for his agoraphobic son Arthur Hughes (Jonesy), but he's still treated like the bad guy. John almost gives up because whatever he does is considered wrong, and upon hiking to the Sanctum, he even apologizes to June and that's still not good enough. Nadine Marshall's (The Smoking Room) Detective Christine Polk struggles to balance her past and personal ties while investigating the McDaniel case, too. She independently puts together previous crimes, comas, and how her husband Philip Wright (EastEnders) also became a victim. Christine has the hospital video and mismatched reflections photos, but her assistance and resources are treated as unimportant until required. Of course, the irony is that the entire adult ensemble was so deserving of the show's focus that we wonder if the teen connections were needed at all.

Fortunately, great forests, lovely mountains, and beautiful rivers set The Innocents apart. Compared to other genre Netflix shows that all seem to use the same dark house sets, bright location filming and aerial views are calm and quaint. In spite of the shady implications and rogue medicine, these plague days we wouldn't mind living in this pretty, isolated commune! Big monitors, slides, and record players make for a primitive set up, but the older tapes, phones, and technology accent the unpolished rural. Mirrors, double glass overlays, and reverse camera angles talking to one's reflections create visual duplicity while ironic classical music sets off the cruel experimentation. The soon to be dated hip tunes, unfortunately, are loud, obnoxious, and intrusive. The skipping strobe and auto tune shrill made me think there was something wrong with the sound or the streaming! Even if the soundtrack is to your taste, the music montages are ridiculously overused. The Innocents has unnecessary, annoying music interludes sometimes every five minutes – precious time that could have been about character development not ~aesthetics. I must however give props to the ice hockey game on at the Norwegian bar! The Innocents starts slow yet busy with frustrating, uneven storytelling. More interesting adult plots take a backseat to typical teen angst. Thankfully, the second half moves much faster, and the series is best when it drops the dippy teen experience for the real world drama that happens to have suspicious science fiction afoot. This is a very neat concept, and The Innocents had potential for greatness, but it should have been four episodes or a taut movie. It's easy to marathon the superior back end of The Innocents if you hang in for that long, but provocative ideas about women's roles and identities are trapped in an eye rolling juvenile structure that's so damn easy to quit on at the forefront.