Horrific Period Pieces

Horrific Period Pieces

by Kristin Battestella

Steeped in gothic mood and bleak atmosphere, this trio of films past and present provides both period piece sophistication and slow burn horrors.

Black Torment – Black screen panting and tense chases through the brush with music to match every snapped branch and booted footstep open this 1964 eighteenth century ye olde horror. It's not a Hammer production, though it certainly feels like it with brutal strangulations, newlyweds in carriages, tricorn hats, bosomy frocks, and angry barons in powdered wigs. Heraldic notes and a lovely country manor house with grand columns and chandeliers belie the ornery blacksmiths, crippled nobles, and village tales of murder and violence. Sign Language is the only way to communicate, but the invalid can see and hear all the whispering servants, giggling maids, and witchcraft rumors – not to mention some casual innuendo about drinking and getting merry with the oh so fashionable butler. Ominous letters, cryptic family mottoes, eerie ancestral portraits, and footmen carrying the clearly pained but unable to object patient create tension amid noises in the night, a missing family bible, and suicidal history. There's romance but also secrets, screams, barred windows, and phantom ladies walking the grounds. Who's imagining what or driving one to madness? Despite obvious doppelganger red herrings, the mystery builds a sinister atmosphere with wheelchairs and evil suspicions while lingering recollections of a first wife provide Rebecca shade. Necking in the stables and townsfolk versus ruling gentry intensify as the seemingly law abiding local militia is also beholden to our baron regarding horse chases and murder accusations. Misunderstandings on a man said to be in two places at once escalate with tell tale ink, staircase frights, fainting spells, fatal revelations, and churchyard toppers. Slow spins, blurred images, askew angles, and up close camera shots of terrified eyes and sweating temples accent the out of control ill tempers and brain fevers while entertaining visions, muskets, and climatic sword fights set off the titular frights with a little foaming at the mouth for good measure. Although the dim, elusive print is in need of a good restoration, this sophisticated period piece pot boiler with horror pacing and flair is well worth the watch for mid-century gothic fans.

The Little Stranger – Lenny Abrahamson (Frank) directs Domhnall Gleeson (The Force Awakens), Ruth Wilson (I am the Pretty Thing that Lives in the House), and Charlotte Rampling (Zardoz) in this 2018 adaptation of the Sarah Waters novel. Post-war razors, old telephone ring rings, vintage lamp glows, and doctor bags set the scene before house calls to the lovely but overgrown country manor sheltering a burned RAF pilot and a fearful servant. Damaged plaster, a disused service bell system, quaint antiques, and a fine staircase provide former grandeur – our doctor's mother was a maid at Hundreds Hall before the 1919 parasols and garden parties last hurrahs. This fallen Old World charm versus Second war torn onward crossroad is firmly felt, and some cannot let go of the past. Layered dialogue provides the catching up exposition on family deaths, new medical treatments that could heal the wounded, and the once wealthy now like everyone else unable to afford upgrades and estate taxes. Our poor country doctor is more formal and button up in his suit, a stoic spire in the center of the frame interfering with family affairs or land sales when not spending holidays making their tea. Extreme, distorted, close up shots reflect his invasion of this space where the manor's past is still very much in the present, and his narration recalling a visit there as a boy parallels current events – he's “admitted” at the top of the stairs rather than waiting at the bottom, spoiled like a proper little gentleman, and made to feel like a part of the house. Mirrors and careful editing reflect the intermingling while the forties gowns inspire a past within the past trying to recapturing that pre-war class feeling. Awkward parties mixing old philosophies and new pretentiousness begat sudden dog attacks, blood, and screams. Real life troubles, barely understood shell shock, and fears that there's something in the house that wants them dead affect everyone's state of mind, and although our doctor has new opportunities in the city, viewers wonder if his dancing and romancing the daughter is just to complete his mastery of the home. Everything is happy away from the leaky house with knocking sounds, disturbances in the night, and names of the dead inscribed on the walls yet he wants to stay while she's ready to leave once the bells ring by themselves and old speaking pipes echo from the nursery. Many incidents are told rather than seen, which adds to the psychological versus supernatural mystery as more of the manor is explored. After such hear tell subtlety, the scares are more intense when they do happen – slamming doors and desperate pounding are traumatic for the person experiencing the out of control malevolence. Are the ghosts and poltergeists real or merely hysterical women in some collective episode? Memories and self harm escalate to emergencies in the night, fatal falls, ghostly interventions, and who can't or won't let go extremes without the need for anything over the top thanks to fine performances and period touches. This may be slow for some but the characterizations and drama don't rely on run of the mill in your face scares. Elements left unexplained create discussion, and this should probably be watched twice for the subdued setting of the scene – which is perfect for audiences that don't expect chills a minute and can enjoy a simmering sense of dread.

Lizzie – Maid Kristen Stewart (Twilight) gets steamy with the titular turn of the century murderess Chloe Sevingy (American Horror Story) in this 2018 biopic accented with fine costumes, rustic lighting, and vintage Victorian interiors. Six months before the screams and blood, the buttoned up, repressed daughter is already defiant against the patriarchal oppression by going to theatre parties unaccompanied where low cut, colorful frocks contrast the tight collars and immediate sexual tension at home. The Bordens can't have anything too extravagant despite being able to afford it, and Lizzie prefers the barn and animals to people, reading aloud in an innocent but antisocial loneliness. While some dialogue is a little too modern, our eponymous lady has a progressive, forceful, even masculine energy that can't be contained with fainting spells. Our old maid is called a lesbian abomination but in turn rightfully calls her perverse, abusive father a lying coward before creaking floorboards, broken mirrors slid under the door, revenge injuries, and burned documents reveal the truth. The up close camera often peers through the window, catching the glances as each lady looks at each other – the audience is in on the intimate possibilities but when your employer suggests his servant leave the door to her hot attic room open, she can't exactly say no. The strict orders and behind closed doors implications are uncomfortable enough without the often seen exploitative, degrading visuals, and the women bond during intimate undressings and corset tightenings. Theft and rebellious acts increase amid suspicious business deals, threatening letters, and whispering relatives. The women have to eavesdrop to learn what the men are planning for them before violent punishments and one and all sitting at the dinner table like nothing has happened. Is murder the only way out of the hypocrisy? Were the violent tendencies always there or could you be crazy in love enough to kill? The ax is shown throughout the pot boiler, and although the stifling camerawork may be disorienting to some viewers, it mirrors the closeness when it is both welcomed by the women or invaded by nasty men. Regardless of height the unprotected ladies must look up to the creepy uncles, diminished and fearful of physical violence. Retro photo pops accent the bludgeoning editing before jail and witnesses on the stand provide the fallout from this infamous hatcheting. Premeditated accomplices, church bells, deliberate nudity, and out of control horror are worth the wait once the finale reveals the symbolically sexual posturing, vomit, and splatter. Some people just don't have the stomach for this sort of thing while others so smooth have thought of everything. There is some unevenness with the characters – probably from when the project was envisioned as a television piece with bigger roles – and the killer romance meets Victorian women's lib messages are mixed. However despite liberties suggesting what went on in this congested house and a decidedly quiet, not mainstream style that won't be for everyone, this interesting perspective will have viewers studying this disturbing murder case with a sympathetic, personal anew.

Polarizing Recent Horrors

Polarizing Recent Horrors

By Kristin Battestella

This batch of supernatural scares and science fiction fears both foreign and domestic serves up some interesting ghosts and literary twists alongside some meh, skip-worthy, and polarizing frights.

Unique Ghosts

I am the Pretty Thing that Lives in The House – Ruth Wilson (Luther, The Affair) stars in this 2016 Netflix original written and directed by Oz Perkins (The Blackcoat's Daughter). Poetic voiceovers tell of a house being borrowed by the living while dark screens and period silhouettes come in and out of focus, creating an aged feeling for our colonial house, ailing horror author, and her jilted live in nurse Lily – who must always wear white, can't be touched, and slaps her own hand for snooping. Certainly there are obvious implications with repeated phrases, solitary scenes, one side phone calls, whispering voices, and no outdoor perspectives to disrupt our attention from the suspect footsteps and undisturbed décor. Old music with ironic lyrics, cassettes, rotary phones, typewriters, static TV antennas, and Grateful Dead shirts also invoke a trapped in the past mood implying that the thin veil between life and death is soon to be broken. Shadowed, almost black and white shots and doorways framed in darkness make the audience question which side of the looking glass we are on – slow zooms peer into the dark frames or blacked out night time windows. There are shock moments, but the one woman play design is intense without being loud or in your face. Blindfolds, old fashioned dresses, mirrors, musty papers, and mysterious boxes increase amid moldy walls and suspicious characters from our author's 1960 novel The Lady in the Walls – creating slow burn literary flashbacks, parallel self-awareness, ghostly uncertainty, and feminine duality on wilted old age blooms versus forever beautiful flowers. Is this a linear story or are the past, present, living, and dead blending together? Again, the answers are apparent with book titles and name hints hidden in plain sight. No one eats, sleeps, or bathrooms yet this ghostly rot and repetition may take multiple viewings for full discussion, interpretation, and analysis. Although there are some pretentious arty for the sake of it moments – not the papa Anthony Perkins scenes on the TV! – knocking on the walls, a flipped up rug, buzzing flies, and a will requesting another woman writer come to chronicle this “House of Stories” are atmosphere enough without run of the mill wham bam effects. This individual horror experience remains can't look away intriguing for old school horror fans not expecting thrills a minute and those who enjoy a seventies, no concept of time mood.

Interesting Oddities

Twixt – Washed up horror writer Val Kilmer (The Doors) stars in this 2011 Francis Ford Coppola directed askewer set in a sleepy town featuring zany sheriff Bruce Dern (The 'burbs) and a belfry with seven clocks each telling a different time. One hear tells of twelve ghostly kids playing at midnight and a thirteenth child damned, and bodies in the morgue are free for the viewing since the serial killer's calling card is a giant wooden stake. Bat houses are totally different from bird houses, and the abandoned hotel once sheltered Edgar Allan Poe. Val's ponytail, fedora, and drinking hit home the hoofing it, down on his luck author – his bookstore signing is in the bookshelf half of the hardware store! He's asking for advances so his estranged wife won't sell priceless literary collectibles, and Joanne Whalley's (Willow) angry video chats tops off the backwoods humor. Old fashioned lanterns, fax machines, radios, split screen calls, tolling bells, clockwork groans, and wonky camera angles accent the weird nighttime blues, silver patinas, eerie woods, and decayed buildings. Distorted movements, slow motion fireplaces, skyline perspectives, exaggerate neon signs, specific red accents, and individual lighting schemes become increasingly distorted, and Elle Fanning's (Maleficent) a mysterious porcelain doll-like girl. At times, the Sin City-esque style seems odd for odd's sake, but the onscreen editor wants a vampire book with a story not just bullshit visuals, and a portable table and chair, ritual writing space, and blank computer screens wink at the select all delete that perhaps only writers can understand. Yes, it's obvious we may be in an onscreen fiction thanks to the maybe maybe not dream quality, moonlit breakfasts, and imaginary conversations with Ben Chaplin's (The Truth about Cats & Dogs) Poe blending the titular sense of time together. Is this the creative subconscious, a story in progress, or a purgatory limbo for our author? The interpretive subtext layers the warped atmosphere, but the busy tale within a tale, life imitating art twists end abruptly with typical creepy minister prayers, snakes, mea culpa, and literary catharsis. This isn't perfect and probably too full of itself – nobody is going to red pencil Coppola – but this didn't deserve to be a festival blink with a delayed video release. In fact, Coppola's intentions as a live interactive film with different versions depending on audience reaction remain intriguing, making the picture either all dream, all reality, or all inside story rather than a patchwork narrative with pieces of each. Today, this choose your own adventure concept would be a water cooler Netflix event! Of course, the industry doesn't embrace out there film making, and one also needs Coppola's Godfather clout and financial freedom to do this kind of hobbyist release. Many will hate such uneven indulgence, but the oddities here are worth a look.

One Science Fiction Horror Questionable

The Last Days on Mars – This 2013 science fiction horror British co-production boasts a fine cast including Liev Schreiber (Ray Donovan), Olivia Williams (Manhattan), Elias Koteas (Chicago P.D.), and Romola Gari (The Crimson Petal and the White). Their six month Martian stay in claustrophobic habitat buildings has nineteen hours left, yet some work up to the last minute while others dread the coffin-like sleep and ride home. It's been a testy unglamorous trip with little scientific research to validate their efforts, and sunny swing music contrasts the dust, sandstorms, rocks, and bitter mood. Realistic effects, spacesuits, equipment, and rovers fall prey to patchy communications, offline systems, and flickering lights – adding more tension to the mundane repairs, decompression, and radiation. Everyone's already frazzled before the hidden evidence, deceptions, and accusations over scientific credit lead to maydays, disappearing crew, bottomless caverns, and underground organisms. Depressurizing airlocks, contamination, monstrous attacks, and gruesome drill uses enforce the perilous environs, quarantines, and suit tears. Pointing fingers at who's infected, proactive antibiotic experiments, and intravenous versus vapor distribution accent the race to the exit rendezvous and radio chatter horrors heard but not seen. However, the helmets and dark, hectic scenes make it tough to tell what's happening, and one can certainly argue that no alien zombie morph mutations were necessary when the isolated people on edge is SF horror enough without bringing the Z word to Mars. Somber moments also come off as too pretentious, trying to be more sophisticated than the Alien and Aliens imitation – strong women defending protocols, travel through a pipe to restore communication, and only one person able to contact the incoming ship amid double crossings and cliché panic attacks. Such derivative cheats proceed as expected, claiming any moody atmosphere with too many endings resulting in unsatisfying cop outs. While initially entertaining, too many wrong turns just run out of steam in final act.

And a Skipper!

White Settlers – A city couple moves to a too good to be true Scottish fixer upper on a medieval battle site in this 2014 British snoozer also called The Blood Lands. After the usual cool opening credits, are we there yet driving to the horrors, a somewhat shady estate agent, no phone signals, and a move in montage; the very unprepared wife realizes she's afraid of being in an isolated handyman house without power. Of course, her jerk husband makes Scottish jokes, refusing to let up on his bullshit attitude even when there's a scary break in and unseen attackers. The outdoor saucy, surprisingly immature and incompatible couple, and nighttime suspicious are typical clichés, and the divine scenery, historical references, and great house are never used to their full potential. When the description refers to ancient battles, one sort of expects something wild like ghosts or cults and past meets present horror – not guys in pig masks angry at the new neighbors. It's tough to feel any of the supposed English versus Scottish subtext because the horror is so substandard. Eden Lake had better us versus them twists, and I swear I just saw this terrorizing hooligans in animal masks trope in at least three other horror house siege movies. Although flashlights and fog make it difficult to see much of anything here, and our wife has to apologize to her asshole husband for her being afraid even while she's the superior fighter. Maybe this isn't that bad on its own, but it's certainly disappointing if you are expecting anything more than Brits chasing some other Brits through the woods in the dark. Nothing here is horror sentient – people go back to check the still body, bads talk rather than act to create a contrived victim escape, and who trusts the creepy little boy for help? Hello, McFly. If you didn't want any English buying your Scottish property, why not blame the real estate lady who sold it to them? Or the bank that made the price so high? How is unrealistically terrorizing and ridiculously kicking out the new owners so you can move in going to get rid of any of the real world consequences?

Despite tens of thousands of newer horror movies available between Netflix, Amazon, Hulu, HBO Now, Showtime, Starz, and other free streaming sites; I find its becoming increasingly tougher to find the small percent that's quality horror thanks to an overwhelming saturation of low budget yarns, unimaginative knockoffs, no name derivatives, and second tier rehashings with woeful video covers and abysmal ratings or reviews. I feel like I need to do an essay alone on how to spot a bad horror movie, as there is just a ridiculous amount of sludge sinking the genre – and drowning its viewers. I protest such drivel!