The interaction between movie and television horror is a complex one. The horror genre has long straddled the two media types (for which there is no collective name, surprisingly) for many years. Dark Shadows (ABC, 1966–1971) began as a television daily created by Dan Curtis, but then, near the end of the series, two independently standing cinematic stories emerged in House of Dark Shadows (Curtis, 1970) and Night of Dark Shadows (Curtis, 1971). The flow moves in the other direction as well. A couple of contemporary television movies, The Night Stalker (John Llewellyn Moxey, 1972) and The Night Strangler (Dan Curtis, 1973) led to the weekly television series, also on ABC, Kolchak: The Night Stalker (Jeff Rice, 1973–1974). Both movies were produced by Curtis. Although Kolchak lasted for only one season, it had tremendous influence.
JDC Burnhil
Anyone who attempts to devise a definition of “folk horror” quickly discovers how peculiarly exasperating the task is. As much as readers and critics may agree that certain works definitely belong to the corpus – as much as we may sense that the corpus is bound by a common spirit – the bewildering variety of twists folk horror can take makes it difficult to confidently identify the key elements.
What is proposed in this essay is that, in fact, a majority of folk horror draws on a common root for its power and relevance, and that this connection has gone largely unappreciated before now. Moreover, it makes sense of the bewildering variety we just mentioned: in a very real sense, folk horror’s spirit may be defined less by “these are the boundaries it fits within” than “these are the boundaries it defiantly straddles.”
Children of the Corn: Where Fritz Kiersch’s 1984 Adaptation Gets It Right – and Wrong
Dawn KeetleyFritz Kiersch’s adaptation of Stephen King’s 1977 short story, “Children of the Corn,” was released in the US on March 9, 1984. It’s one of my favorite Stephen King adaptations (somewhere in the top ten) – and its many strengths notably include an early starring role for the amazing Linda Hamilton, seven months before she appeared in the career-shaping The Terminator. It’s also a critical entry in the US folk horror tradition, defining (along with Mary Lambert’s 1989 Pet Semetary) what American folk horror looked like in the 1980s. On the film’s 40th anniversary, here’s an assessment of some of the ways Kiersch’s Children of the Corn effectively interpreted and adapted King’s story – and a couple of the film’s missteps.
By
Kevin Cooney
Tremendously flawed but much loved, The Keep (1983) was director Michael Mann’s first and only horror film thus far. For all of its cinematic beauty and meticulous production design, studio meddling and production delays turned the movie into a legendary failure. However, hidden within the mangled edit is a foreboding portrayal of evil. While The Keep falls short with its supernatural antagonist, it does turn an archaic place, the eponymous stone and slate keep, into a monstrous character unto itself, a malignant genius loci whose evil is matched by the characters in jackboots.
The Reproductive Imperative of Folk Horror: Robin Redbreast and Alex Garland’s Men
Dawn KeetleyIn an early classic of folk horror, the 1970 BBC Play for Today episode, “Robin Redbreast” (written by John Bowen and directed by James MacTaggart), a middle-class professional woman, Norah Palmer (Anna Cropper), whose long-time boyfriend just ended their relationship, moves rather reluctantly to a remote cottage she acquired during the break-up. After discovering that she has mice, Norah sets off to look for a man named Rob (Andrew Bradford), who lives in the woods and can apparently take care of her mouse problem for her. As Norah walks through the woods, the camera isolates her and also marks her enjoyment of the scenery. She is jolted from this enjoyment by the sight of a man who is virtually naked; indeed, she will call him ‘naked’ when she recounts her experience to her housekeeper, Mrs. Vigo (Freda Bamford), later. Norah stares and, when he sees her – when he looks back – she turns and hastens away, unnerved, back to her house.