With its languid storytelling and inversion of Gothic tropes, Bernard Taylor’s THE REAPING is an exercise in patience with a supremely satisfying payoff. In this episode, we discuss folk horror, the rejection of the maternal, and the importance of a good book cover. On this podcast we talk blood, guts, and spoilers so listener discretion is advised.
You can order Taylor’s novel from Valancourt’s Paperbacks from Hell site.
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Roar Uthaug is a master of genre film. His first directorial feature was the excellent slasher, Cold Prey (2006), and he then helmed Norway’s first disaster film, The Wave, in 20015. His latest is a monster movie – also an action adventure film, a disaster film, and a Norwegian kaiju movie. Released by Netflix in 2022, Troll is about an ancient being awakened by an explosion detonated in the mountains of Norway. The film is fairly self-conscious about its genre origins: one character, early on, suggests that the creature emerging from the mountain is “King Kong” – and in a later montage of “Breaking News” reports, a Japanese journalist asks, “Could this be a Norwegian Godzilla?”
Troll resembles no film, perhaps, so much as The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (Eugène Lourié, 1953), in which a long-buried dinosaur is awakened from the ice of the Arctic by an atomic blast test. (I’ve written about the politics of that film here.) Indeed, the protagonist of Troll, Professor Nora Tidemann (Ine Marie Wilmann) is, like the protagonists of Beast, a paleontologist, interrupted in her search for dinosaur fossils by the troll’s awakening – and the Norwegian government’s consequent summoning of her as expert. It turns out, moreover, that the troll, just like the rhedosaurus in Beast, is heading toward its “home,” which just happens, in both cases, to be one of the most populated of urban areas: Manhattan in Beast and Oslo in Troll.[i] The film’s respective monsters do some rampaging, of course, on their way home.
As fascinating as Troll is as a monster movie, however, I want to suggest that it also overlaps to some degree with folk horror.
What’s scary about Anita Rocha da Silveira’s second feature is neither its monstrous metaphors for the Evangelical extremism on the rise in her native Brazil, nor its Argento-esque aesthetic of hallucinogenic hues and contrast colors. It’s how the ignorant ideology which the sprawling story overtly criticizes asserts itself in the subtext of this supposedly feminist fairytale. Like many fairytales, it revolves around a haughty heroine humbled by losing her beauty and being thrown off her privileged pedestal. Excluded by her previous peers and having of necessity to engage in lowly work, her character becomes reformed so that when she regains her physical charms they are matched by spiritual perfection.
Despite openly parodying duplicitous definitions of physical attractiveness, the director-writer relies on archaic concepts of beauty, disfigurement and ugliness. Young, conventionally beautiful protagonist Mari (Mariana Oliveira) and her girl gang of radical Evangelicals pursue an immaculate appearance as one of women’s prime duties to Jesus and to men while at the same time condemning the attractiveness of “sinful“ young women. At night, Mari and the others hunt for “Jezebels“ and “Messalinas“ – epithets evoking the age-old history of slut-shaming women – beating them into renouncing their “depraved“ lifestyle to embrace religious piety. The forced confessions and conversions are instantly posted online where they draw likes and supportive comments. Read more
Privileged paranoia is rarely as enjoyable as in Halina Reijn’s English language feature film debut – a sharp, sarcastic slasher stabbing away at the elite’s self-obsession and self-loathing. A devastating lack of meaning serves both as the origin and outcome of a hilarious horror that is simultaneously physical, psychological and parodistic. The Danish director’s genre gem cunningly mimics mainstream cinema’s detachment from lower-class reality by zooming in on a prototypical group of upper-class kids. Their hurricane party set in a friend’s mansion is crashed by their estranged friend Sophie (Amandla Stenberg).
The recently recovered addict brings her new girlfriend, eastern European Bee (Maria Bakalova), the only one unfamiliar with the affluent apathy of the spoiled sextette she’s to stay with. Belligerent host David (Pete Davidson), his theatrical girlfriend Emma (Chase Sui Wonders), self-righteous Jordan (Herrold), pretentious podcaster Alice (Rachel Sennott), her older Tinder date Greg (Lee Pace) and Sophie are, as Emma puts it, “rich” or “rich rich.” They scoff at Bee trying to contribute to the expenses by bringing food, spill expensive champagne, toy with antique armor and play the titular game. Read more
In the Director’s Statement in the Press Packet for his new film, Enys Men (2022), Mark Jenkin writes that the film emerged from “images” he had “in my head.” These images arise from the land and the history of Cornwall – from the moors, sea, standing stones, mines and miners, bal maidens (female mine workers), and the men who made their living on the sea. The film didn’t just emerge from these images, however; the film is these images. To describe Enys Men is not to describe a story or a plot – because story and plot demand linear time and conventional causality. Enys Men creates a world structured very differently. And it is, quite simply, one of the most thought-provoking, beautiful, and engrossing films I’ve watched in a long time – and certainly one of the best films of 2022.
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