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Posted on May 11, 2019

Cyclical Abuse in The Twilight Zone

As an episode that redirects audience sympathy away from humans and toward a robot, “Uncle Simon” is a bit of an outlier in The Twilight Zone canon. Written by creator Rod Serling, the story focuses on Barbara (Constance Ford) as she cares for her wealthy uncle, Simon (Cedric Hardwicke). But lurking beneath this seemingly innocuous portrait of family caregiving is a dark depiction of the tolls abuse takes on a family. The antithesis of the human/robot relationship envisioned by Dr. Julie Carpenter in which robots facilitate “healthy and successful social-emotional models of communication,” this episode leverages the robot as a means of showing the cyclical nature of abuse.[i] Simon and Barbara are engaged in a dynamic where verbal abuse is an ingrained part of their communication model. It’s a pattern that not even Simon’s death can break thanks to a robot he wills to Barbara. Read more

Posted on April 7, 2019

Pet Sematary as Folk Gothic

Dawn Keetley

A couple of articles have suggested that the 2019 Pet Sematary (directed by Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer) amplifies the “folk horror” of Stephen King’s novel (1983) and of Mary Lambert’s film (1989). It does, perhaps most noticeably in the addition of the masked children forming a “procession” to the cemetery (though this ritual ends up being much less important to the film than the trailer makes it appear). As I began thinking about Pet Sematary as folk horror, though, it occurred to me that the film actually seems more akin to what we might call “folk gothic”—and that there is a significant difference between the two.[i] So, while recognizing the slipperiness of both “folk horror” and “folk gothic,” this essay represents my effort to think through, with Pet Sematary, what “folk gothic” is.[ii]

Posted on March 28, 2019

The Female Gaze and Agency in Anna Biller’s The Love Witch

Guest Post

“The male gaze,” a term coined by British film theorist Laura Mulvey in “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” is something of a staple in feminist film criticism. It implies that the lens of the camera, at least in the majority of films made in the early to middle of the twentieth century, is almost exclusively wielded by men. Thus, the “eye” of the camera becomes the “male gaze,” everything we are subsequently shown is from a male point of view. Therefore, as women are more and more involved behind the camera in the film production process, the topic of the “female gaze” is an inevitable one. How do we re-articulate film theory from the point of view of women? And is the “female gaze” even possible? Anna Biller in her 2016 film The Love Witch sought to bring these questions to the forefront, as well as conceptions of the “woman as auteur,” as she had a hand in every single aspect of production, from costumes (which she sewed herself) to cinematography. Read more

Posted on March 20, 2019

Perfection, Psychosis and Pupillo: Il boia scarlatto (Bloody Pit of Horror, 1965)

Guest Post

M.B.S. Cinematografica released Il boia scarlatto (Bloody Pit of Horror or The Crimson Executioner) in Italy on 28 November 1965. Grossing 65 million lire during its domestic theatrical run, it was subsequently purchased by Pacemaker Pictures in the United States, where it opened as a double feature with director Massimo Pupillo’s Cinque tombe per un medium (Terror Creatures from the Grave, 1965). Completing Pupillo’s trilogy of gothic horror was La vendetta di Lady Morgan (Lady Morgan’s Vengeance), released in the same year.

The plot of Il boia scarlatto is relatively simple: in 1648 Italy, the Crimson Executioner (uncredited) is sentenced to death for pursuing his sadistic and murderous fantasies. In the dungeon of his castle (the actual location of which is Bracciano, just outside of Rome), the Crimson Executioner vows his revenge as he is entombed in an iron maiden, or virgin of Nuremberg—a medieval torture device, traditionally shaped like a coffin or sarcophagus with the face of a maiden, which slowly kills its victims via strategically placed spikes that do not penetrate any major organs. The narration—the apparent ruling of the tribunal against the murderer—is layered effectively over the scene and informs the audience that the Crimson Executioner is eternally damned, as is the dungeon and the castle itself, which has seen “such indescribable horrors.” As the Crimson Executioner slowly dies, the device is sealed and the narrator issues a warning: no man should ever dare to break it.

Posted on March 14, 2019

The Man Who Haunted Himself: Deadly Doubles

Dawn Keetley

The doppelgänger or double has long been a part of the horror tradition (Check out this comprehensive survey by Aaron Sagers at Paranormal Pop Culture), but it’s garnering new interest with Jordan Peele’s Us hitting the theatres on March 22, 2019. Peele’s new “monsters” are “The Tethered,” and they are perfect doppelgängers of the central family of four, on vacation in Santa Cruz, California. So far, there’s not too much information about where these doubles come from or why, so it’s going to be interesting to see how much explanation Peele offers. As with most horror film monsters, less is usually more, so I’m hoping he’ll be restrained. Peele is on record as having said that he was inspired in part at least by the Twilight Zone episode “Mirror Image” (1960), which he watched as a child. But there’s another narrative from the mid 20^th century in which a character confronts his exact double, one that is definitely worth watching: Basil Dearden’s The Man Who Haunted Himself, released in 1970 and based on Anthony Armstrong’s novel, The Strange Case of Mr. Pelham (1957), which was itself based on his short story, “The Case of Mr. Pelham,” published in Esquire on November 1, 1940. Armstrong’s story was also adapted in the Alfred Hitchcock Presents episode, “The Case of Mr. Pelham” (1955), directed by Hitchcock.