Vampiros e lobisomens estão em alta graças a saga Crepúsculo. Nela, os dois seres estão em guerra desde tempos imemoriáveis devido a uma disputa de terras e alguns desentendimentos. Então para os adolescentes fãs da franquia, vamos mostrar a verdadeira origem dessas criaturas da noite.

Existem duas origens para os vampiros e todas elas se relacionam com a Bíblia. Nas escrituras hebraicas, ou velho testamento, o livro bíblico de Gênesis conta a história de Caim, filho de Adão, que assassinou seu irmão Abel e foi marcado por Deus para que ninguém o matasse, além de ser condenado a vagar no deserto e viver do trabalho de suas próprias mãos. Caim é sempre apontado como exemplo de homem fraco, que sede aos desejos egoístas da carne. Em livros apócrifos lemos que Caim se encontrou com Lilith, que seria a primeira esposa de Adão, antes de Eva, que por não se submeter a chefia de seu esposo foi banida do Paraíso e se tornou a mãe detodos os seres do mal. Lilith deu seu sangue para que Caim continuasse vivendo eternamente ao seu lado, dando origem assim ao primeiro vampiro da história.

A segunda origem tem a ver com as escrituras gregas, ou novo testamento. Judas Iscariotes era um dos doze apóstolos de Jesus Cristo. Sua ganância o levou a trair Cristo por 30 moedas de prata. Arrependido, Judas tentou devolver o dinheiro de prata, porém foi rejeitado. As 30 moedas de prata se tornaram insuportáveis para ele, que as jogou longe. Judas não conseguiu suportar sua consciência pesada por ter levado à morte um homem inocente e se suicidou. A Bíblia também não nos conta mais nada daí em diante. Mas já podemos perceber de onde tiraram a idéia de que a prata é letal para esses seres e a estaca no peito lhes é mortal. Também o suicídio na lenda vampírica é um modo de se compactuar com as forças inferiores e se tornar um vampiro, morrendo para o mundo mortal e vivendo entre os mortos vivos.

Na literatura, Bram Stoker em 1897 conta a história de Conde Drácula através de jornais e diários. O livro conta que Count Dracula (seu primeiro nome não é revelado) vivia em um remoto castelo na Transilvânia, sendo uma pessoa com enorme poder sedutor e levando uma vida de luxúria. Além de hábitos não convencionais, como o de não sair à luz do sol. Cercado de mistérios sobre sua vida, verdadeira idade e o mais estranho, várias mortes envolvendo sua pessoa de forma não direta.

Bram Stoker na verdade se aproveitou de várias referências folclóricas que tinha acesso e as rearranjou, tornando Dracula o vampiro mais conhecido até hoje, tendo sua história recontada não oficialmente no cinema em Nosferatu, (Nosferatu, 1922) por Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau. Mais tarde Tod Browning nos trouxe Dracula (Dracula, 1931) com a inesquecível atuação de Bela Lugosi. Desde então diversos nomes revisitaram e adaptaram a história dos filhos da noite. Alguns atores ficaram muito populares por dar vida aos sugadores de sangue como Brad Pitt vivendo Louis de Pointe de Lac em Entrevista com o Vampiro (Interview with the Vampire: The Vampire Chronicles, 1994) de Neil Jordan, Richard Roxburgh como Count Vladislaus Dracula em Van Helsing (Van Helsing, 2004) de Stephen Sommers. Esse último traz várias criaturas da noite, como lobisomens e até o Frankenstein, personagem original de Mary Shelley.

Esses vampiros seguem as mesmas características básicas: se alimentam desangue humano, prata lhes causa dano, são mortos vivos com alguma ligação com o submundo e são seres do mal. Não saem à luz do sol porque podem ser reduzidos a cinzas, e nesse ponto os vampiros de Crepúsculo são diferentes, pois só não caminha ao sol porque brilham. É.

Diferente dos vampiros, que podemos ver várias referências a textos bíblicos e a livros apócrifos, os lobisomens tem sua origem na Grécia antiga com o mito do rei Lycaon. Em suas habituais visitas ao mundo dos homens disfarçado de viajante comum, Zeus passou pela corte do rei Lycaon. Reconhecendo o deus, Lycaon tentou matá-lo ao oferecer-lhe como alimento carne humana. Zeus reconheceu a intenção do rei e destruiu o palácio, além de condená-lo a viver pelo resto da vida como lobo. Provavelmente essa lenda tem origem devido a palavra grega lykanthrōpos: lykos – lobo e anthropos – homem.

Ainda sobre a origem dos homens lobo, desde o século 15 a Europa sofria com inúmeros ataques de lobos a humanos que trabalhavam em florestas. Não muito tempo depois o folclore contava que humanos amaldiçoados por demônios e bruxas más, se transformavam em lobos em noites de lua cheia. Aqueles que escapavam vivos de seus ataques com mordidas ou arranhões, também recebiam a maldição da licantropia. Como se livrar deles? Apenas com o tiro de uma bala de prata.

Os portugueses trouxeram a lenda dos lobisomens para as nossas terras. Segundo o nosso folclore, todo o sétimo filho de uma sequência de seis mulheres ou seis homens, é amaldiçoado com a licantropia.

Nos cinemas a primeira aparição dessas criaturas na grande tela foi em 1913, uma película de 18 minutos em que um índio americano conta a lenda de um povo com a habilidade de se transformar em lobos. Em 1981, Joe Dante dirigiu Grito de Horror (The Howling), um thriller em que a jornalista Karen White (Dee Wallace) após ser atacada por uma misteriosa criatura, vai para uma casa de repouso no campo sem saber que o local sofria constantes ataques da mesma criatura. Esse filme faz parte da chamada “trinca de clássicos” dos lobisomens. No mesmo ano, John Landis dirigiu (e também assinou o roteiro) Um Lobisomem Americano em Londres (An American Werewolf in London), uma comédia de horror apresentando os lobisomens e sua sede de sangue humano com muito humor negro. Em 1985 A Hora do Lobisomem (Silver Bullet), baseado no livro homônimo de Stephen King, que também assina o roteiro do filme, é dirigido por Daniel Attias e é considerado um dos melhores filmes sobre o tema. Não é apenas focado no lobisomem, o filme tem várias pequenas tramas muito bem desenvolvidas. Nesse filmeTerry O’Quinn, o Locke de Lost, faz o papel do xerife Joe Haller. Hoje temos o lobisomem adolescente bonitão Jacob Black, vivido por Taylor Lautner em Lua Nova (New Moon, 2009).

E sim, como na saga Crepúsculo, em mesas de RPG lobisomens e vampiros não compactuam de relações amigáveis. Lobisomens são filhos de Gaia, a mãe terra. Os vampiros são seres não naturais, impuros. Os homens lobo sentem a presença dessas criaturas com grande facilidade. Para poder exterminá-los, claro.

É interessante recordar as origens e ver as adaptações ao longo das épocas e como o público lida com elas. No caso da saga Crepúsculo, tanto os vampiros como os lobisomens tentam levar uma vida pacífica com os humanos, o que seria impossível, já que sua verdadeira origem é maléfica. E vale lembrar que o verdadeiro motivo de vampiros não poderem andar à luz do dia e dos lobisomens só se transformarem à luz da lua cheia, é a dicotomia luz e escuridão. A luz pertence ao bem e a escuridão ao mal. Logo, ver vampiros à luz do dia, caminhando com humanos é um pouco estranho. Mas são adaptações, leituras que vem para somar. Qual será a próxima releitura feita para essa nova geração?

Vampiros e lobisomens estão em alta graças a saga Crepúsculo. Nela, os dois seres estão em guerra desde tempos imemoriáveis devido a uma disputa de terras e alguns desentendimentos. Então para os adolescentes fãs da franquia, vamos mostrar a verdadeira origem dessas criaturas da noite.

Existem duas origens para os vampiros e todas elas se relacionam com a Bíblia. Nas escrituras hebraicas, ou velho testamento, o livro bíblico de Gênesis conta a história de Caim, filho de Adão, que assassinou seu irmão Abel e foi marcado por Deus para que ninguém o matasse, além de ser condenado a vagar no deserto e viver do trabalho de suas próprias mãos. Caim é sempre apontado como exemplo de homem fraco, que sede aos desejos egoístas da carne. Em livros apócrifos lemos que Caim se encontrou com Lilith, que seria a primeira esposa de Adão, antes de Eva, que por não se submeter a chefia de seu esposo foi banida do Paraíso e se tornou a mãe de todos os seres do mal. Lilith deu seu sangue para que Caim continuasse vivendo eternamente ao seu lado, dando origem assim ao primeiro vampiro da história.

A segunda origem tem a ver com as escrituras gregas, ou novo testamento. Judas Iscariotes era um dos doze apóstolos de Jesus Cristo. Sua ganância o levou a trair Cristo por 30 moedas de prata. Arrependido, Judas tentou devolver o dinheiro de prata, porém foi rejeitado. As 30 moedas de prata se tornaram insuportáveis para ele, que as jogou longe. Judas não conseguiu suportar sua consciência pesada por ter levado à morte um homem inocente e se suicidou. A Bíblia também não nos conta mais nada daí em diante. Mas já podemos perceber de onde tiraram a idéia de que a prata é letal para esses seres e a estaca no peito lhes é mortal. Também o suicídio na lenda vampírica é um modo de se compactuar com as forças inferiores e se tornar um vampiro, morrendo para o mundo mortal e vivendo entre os mortos vivos.

Na literatura, Bram Stoker em 1897 conta a história de Conde Drácula através de jornais e diários. O livro conta que Count Dracula (seu primeiro nome não é revelado) vivia em um remoto castelo na Transilvânia, sendo uma pessoa com enorme poder sedutor e levando uma vida de luxúria. Além de hábitos não convencionais, como o de não sair à luz do sol. Cercado de mistérios sobre sua vida, verdadeira idade e o mais estranho, várias mortes envolvendo sua pessoa de forma não direta.

Bram Stoker na verdade se aproveitou de várias referências folclóricas que tinha acesso e as rearranjou, tornando Dracula o vampiro mais conhecido até hoje, tendo sua história recontada não oficialmente no cinema em Nosferatu, (Nosferatu, 1922) por Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau. Mais tarde Tod Browning nos trouxe Dracula (Dracula, 1931) com a inesquecível atuação de Bela Lugosi. Desde então diversos nomes revisitaram e adaptaram a história dos filhos da noite. Alguns atores ficaram muito populares por dar vida aos sugadores de sangue como Brad Pitt vivendo Louis de Pointe de Lac em Entrevista com o Vampiro (Interview with the Vampire: The Vampire Chronicles, 1994) de Neil Jordan, Richard Roxburgh como Count Vladislaus Dracula em Van Helsing (Van Helsing, 2004) de Stephen Sommers. Esse último traz várias criaturas da noite, como lobisomens e até o Frankenstein, personagem original de Mary Shelley.

Esses vampiros seguem as mesmas características básicas: se alimentam de sangue humano, prata lhes causa dano, são mortos vivos com alguma ligação com o submundo e são seres do mal. Não saem à luz do sol porque podem ser reduzidos a cinzas, e nesse ponto os vampiros de Crepúsculo são diferentes, pois só não caminha ao sol porque brilham. É.

Diferente dos vampiros, que podemos ver várias referências a textos bíblicos e a livros apócrifos, os lobisomens tem sua origem na Grécia antiga com o mito do rei Lycaon. Em suas habituais visitas ao mundo dos homens disfarçado de viajante comum, Zeus passou pela corte do rei Lycaon. Reconhecendo o deus, Lycaon tentou matá-lo ao oferecer-lhe como alimento carne humana. Zeus reconheceu a intenção do rei e destruiu o palácio, além de condená-lo a viver pelo resto da vida como lobo. Provavelmente essa lenda tem origem devido a palavra grega lykanthrōpos: lykos – lobo e anthropos – homem.

Ainda sobre a origem dos homens lobo, desde o século 15 a Europa sofria com inúmeros ataques de lobos a humanos que trabalhavam em florestas. Não muito tempo depois o folclore contava que humanos amaldiçoados por demônios e bruxas más, se transformavam em lobos em noites de lua cheia. Aqueles que escapavam vivos de seus ataques com mordidas ou arranhões, também recebiam a maldição da licantropia. Como se livrar deles? Apenas com o tiro de uma bala de prata.

Os portugueses trouxeram a lenda dos lobisomens para as nossas terras. Segundo o nosso folclore, todo o sétimo filho de uma sequência de seis mulheres ou seis homens, é amaldiçoado com a licantropia.

Nos cinemas a primeira aparição dessas criaturas na grande tela foi em 1913, uma película de 18 minutos em que um índio americano conta a lenda de um povo com a habilidade de se transformar em lobos. Em 1981, Joe Dante dirigiu Grito de Horror (The Howling), um thriller em que a jornalista Karen White (Dee Wallace) após ser atacada por uma misteriosa criatura, vai para uma casa de repouso no campo sem saber que o local sofria constantes ataques da mesma criatura. Esse filme faz parte da chamada “trinca de clássicos” dos lobisomens. No mesmo ano, John Landis dirigiu (e também assinou o roteiro) Um Lobisomem Americano em Londres (An American Werewolf in London), uma comédia de horror apresentando os lobisomens e sua sede de sangue humano com muito humor negro. Em 1985 A Hora do Lobisomem (Silver Bullet), baseado no livro homônimo de Stephen King, que também assina o roteiro do filme, é dirigido por Daniel Attias e é considerado um dos melhores filmes sobre o tema. Não é apenas focado no lobisomem, o filme tem várias pequenas tramas muito bem desenvolvidas. Nesse filme Terry O’Quinn, o Locke de Lost, faz o papel do xerife Joe Haller. Hoje temos o lobisomem adolescente bonitão Jacob Black, vivido por Taylor Lautner em Lua Nova (New Moon, 2009).

E sim, como na saga Crepúsculo, em mesas de RPG lobisomens e vampiros não compactuam de relações amigáveis. Lobisomens são filhos de Gaia, a mãe terra. Os vampiros são seres não naturais, impuros. Os homens lobo sentem a presença dessas criaturas com grande facilidade. Para poder exterminá-los, claro.

É interessante recordar as origens e ver as adaptações ao longo das épocas e como o público lida com elas. No caso da saga Crepúsculo, tanto os vampiros como os lobisomens tentam levar uma vida pacífica com os humanos, o que seria impossível, já que sua verdadeira origem é maléfica. E vale lembrar que o verdadeiro motivo de vampiros não poderem andar à luz do dia e dos lobisomens só se transformarem à luz da lua cheia, é a dicotomia luz e escuridão. A luz pertence ao bem e a escuridão ao mal. Logo, ver vampiros à luz do dia, caminhando com humanos é um pouco estranho. Mas são adaptações, leituras que vem para somar. Qual será a próxima releitura feita para essa nova geração?

Tratto dal racconto Spurs di C.Robbins, sceneggiato da W. Goldbeck e L. Gordon, diretto da Tod Browning, Freaks porta su di se l’aura di film maledetto, rinnegato alla sua uscita dalla stessa società di produzione (la Metro Goldwyn Mayer), pesantemente decurtato dai tagli e proibito in molti paesi.
Non è propriamente un film dell’orrore, non vi è alcun elemento che possa ricondurre all’idea del fantastico o del soprannaturale e ciò che suscita paura non è frutto di effetti speciali o ricostruzioni in studio, essendo protagonisti del film coloro che al tempo venivano definiti “scherzi di natura” (freaks è il crudo termine inglese), prelevati direttamente dai baracconi nei quali venivano esibiti ed esposti alla curiosità morbosa del pubblico e ai suoi commenti malevoli (nani, donne barbute, uomini-torso, donne senza braccia), che il regista fa vedere, senza alcun compiacimento, nella loro esistenza quotidiana, insieme agli artisti “normali”, tra amori che nascono, matrimoni, bambini che vengono alla luce, e mai sulla pista del circo.
Un imbonitore illustra al pubblico le attrazioni del suo spettacolo, compresa “la più incredibile mostruosità che sia mai vissuta nel nostro pianeta”, conservata all’interno di una scatola; alcune signore svengono osservandone l’interno, mentre l’imbonitore inizia a raccontare: un lungo flashback ci porta in un circo, dove si sta esibendo al trapezio la bella Cleopatra (Olga Baclanova), sotto lo sguardo ammirato del nano Hans (Harry Earles), che la corteggia; la donna lo prende in giro, per interessarsi a lui una volta appreso dalla fidanzata Frieda (Daisy Earles), nana anche lei, della fortuna che ha ereditato.
Con la complicità dell’amante, il forzuto Ercole (Henry Victor), la donna architetta un piano diabolico, sposare Hans, avvelenarlo a piccole dosi ed impossessarsi dei suoi soldi; alla cerimonia nuziale, tutti i freaks acclamano a gran voce Cleopatra “come una di loro”, inserendola nella comunità, ma la donna, sdegnata, li insulta; la loro reazione sarà terribile:una volta intuito il piano, insieme allo stesso Hans, in una notte da tregenda attueranno la loro vendetta, dopo un terrificante inseguimento li vediamo uccidere Ercole, mentre la scena si interrompe per tornare all’inizio, il fenomeno nella scatola altri non è che Cleopatra, trasformata in donna gallina( prima dei tagli si descriveva esplicitamente l’intervento ad opera dei freaks, così come la castrazione di Ercole, che ne accompagnava l’esibizione cantando in falsetto).
Film ancora oggi “disturbante”, pur senza avere l’ impatto distruttivo proprio dell’epoca, quando ribaltò la concezione tradizionale basata sul facile assioma deformità esteriore è uguale a deformità interiore, mentre man mano che la storia procede è la “mostruosità” che si umanizza e l’umanità a farsi infima, portandoci ancora oggi a chiederci quale sia la vera mostruosità, se quella generata dalla negazione della propria umanità, con la sopraffazione e mancata accettazione del “diverso”, o quella di chi, accettata la sua diversità, lotta per preservarla dagli attacchi di una presunta superiore “normalità”, basata sull’apparenza, che è, in fondo, la vera malattia.

so i spent a bitta money today. a few things. some books. some muzak. and a dvd. i realised i missed thirst in the cinema, so to make up for it i bought tod browning’s dracula. i’m ashamed to say i still haven’t seen it. what a terrible ex-film student. i got that massive hammer box set at the start of the year and so far i’ve only watched one of the 21 films inside! shameful.

anyway to mark the occasion enjoy this choice oddity from 2003’s the love below. i remember before christmas that year bringing the album backstage at a show i was working on – i’d had it since september, but people were pretty slow on the uptake. all of a sudden, at the wrap party everyone kept playing hey ya!, but this was what i thought people should hear.

André 3000 – Dracula’s Wedding (ft Kelis)

When discussing Tod Browning’s Dracula these days, it seems almost a cliché in many circles, often lumped in—as it often is in the popular consciousness—with the later Universal monster movies that tend to ratchet up the cheese factor. However, returning to the original source proves illuminating, from the arresting portrayal of the titular character by Bela Lugosi to the especially creepy introduction and conclusion to the film.

It’s that introduction in Dracula’s castle and the conclusion in his English lair that are so striking in the film, particularly due to Browning’s use of space. In the early scenes that take place at Dracula’s castle, as Renfield makes his visit, everything in the castle is grand, dominating the singular and diminutive real estate agent. The arches stretch up high toward the towering ceiling; the massive staircase curves up and out of sight; spider webs cover walkways taller and wider than a grown man; the fireplace in Dracula’s dining room is from the same family as the massive hearth Welles employed near the end of Citizen Kane ten years later; and even the table where Renfield sits, including the dishes and silverware, seems too large for him.

All of this communicates a sense of dread and powerlessness, not only because of the imposing grandeur of the place, but also because of its isolated location, two qualities it shares in common with Dracula’s English manor. Old and overgrown, the manor is difficult to access, at one point even looking like it is partially underground, or at least built into a hillside; the door that Van Helsing and Harker eventually enter through is difficult to breach; once inside the lair, and impressive staircase hugs the cylindrical wall; and as they pursue Dracula into the cellar, they discover what appears to be a catacomb-like series of rooms, a never-ending series of chambers that stretch out for what seems like forever into the blackness beyond.

These scenes, early and late, contrast significantly with the middle section of the film, most of which takes place on Dracula’s boat or in Dr. Seward’s house/mental hospital. Each of these locations seems small and confined by comparison to the other locations, and as such, much of the mystery in the film drains away in favor of clearer explanations, more plot information, and an ultimate understanding of vampires that comforts rather than terrifies. However, this works well in the scheme of Browning’s film. When we eventually arrive at Dracula’s English lair near the end of the film, Browning continues what he had begun early in the film—cloaking his villain in a mysterious space, one where he sits larger than life, where everything is dark and treacherous and unpredictable. The effect of the space in these final scenes therefore leaves a much more terrifying impression.

So when Van Helsing finishes off the vampire at the film’s end, it’s hardly surprising that it occurs off screen. What better choice could Browning make? What some have criticized as a limp ending actually seems a brilliant choice. Rather than show his villain limited and defeated in this place of mystery and darkness—traditionally a place of strength for the vampire—he prevents the viewer from having the full catharsis of seeing the vampire killed. This in turn leaves everything somewhat unsettled, which is appropriate for such a dark and unpredictable setting. Through his use of space, Browning is able to end the film with more of a question than a full resolution.

The unique use of space in Browning’s film creates an equally unique structure to the film, where the real catharsis and victory comes with the action still in Dr. Seward’s house. For it is there that Van Helsing is portrayed as master of all things vampire; there where the doctor has a tight hold on his patient and daughter, Mina; and there where Dracula seems least able to affect his victim. The brilliance of the film then comes that it uses its final act to attain some narrative resolution, while at the same time remaining unwilling to resolve all the mystery and tension that surround a compelling creation such as Dracula.

A while back, I blogged about the new So In Style line of black–er–African American Barbie dolls and now there’s another new addition to the Barbie family. Well, maybe not exactly new, but the latest incarnation of an old favorite. It’s the new Ken doll that won’t be available until next April…and we’ll need that long to work ourselves up for this one.

Like Barbie herself, who, over the years, went from a rigid, over-exaggerated plastic model of feminine pulchritude to, in subsequent steps, being posable, to tanning, to talking (“I’m a bitch…I have everything!”). She even had tattoos once and then went and got herself pregnant, Ken has had a variety of transformations. He had flocked hair once and he could also talk (“I hate that bitch!”). Ken could even shave, if you helped him and he played guitar for a new wave band even though he was once again sporting a crop of molded hair until finally, when he became more “street”, in his jeans and T-shirt, he got some slick nylon hair, just like his main squeeze, Barbie.

New Ken is currently available on pre-order at a savings of about twelve or so dollars off the regular price tag of $82 when Sugar Daddy Ken hits the store shelves next spring. Barbie’s one time surfin’, rockin’, 5 o’clock shadow sportin’ boyfriend had dipped his plastic bonded toes a little too far to the left in the “Metro” pool and settled all too comfortably one step beyond, almost like he’s on the prowl for one time pal Bendable Leg Allan he’s known since 1965. That must be a nice how-do-you-do to Barbie. Well, he did call her a bitch!

If the pastel green paisley print blazer over the pink shirt and starkly creased white slacks weren’t enough of an indication of this latest turn, perhaps it would be the West Highland Terrier tethered to a pink leash. Sugar is the name of the pooch, hence this Palm Beach edition Ken’s actual moniker, “Sugar’s Daddy Ken” (Sugar Daddy is a slight corruption, yet slightly more fitting). A spokeswoman for Mattel says that even though the name refers back to the dog, people are going to interpret it as they want to interpret it. Really? Ya think? Rest assured, though, this doll is geared toward adult collectors and not little girls on who the not so subtle innuendo of the new Ken would be wasted. And, oh, cripes, he’s even got sandals.

And here, I know you need a purging from that, I can tell, so here  is a fun video. What grabbed my attention was the opening scene from the Tod Browning 1932 cult classic horror movie, “Freaks”.

by Jonathan Burrello

My biggest regret of tackling this article is that I have not seen more of Mr. Lon Chaney, Sr.’s (1883-1930) work. Of the handful of films I’ve seen of his, none have disappointed and all have been wonderfully twisted. Lon Chaney (father of “Wolf Man,” Lon Chaney, Jr.) was one of the biggest icons of the silent era. Praised alongside silent legends such as Charlie Chaplin, Douglas Fairbanks, Sr., Theda Bara, and Rudolph Valentino, Chaney was every bit as talented and engaging. Chaney’s trademark, however, is what separated him from his contemporaries. Chaplin was admired for his comic humanity; Fairbanks for his swashbuckling acrobatics; Bara for her exotic, seductive persona; Valentino for his rich Mediterranean good looks; Chaney was famous for playing grotesques and psychotics. His real claim to fame was that not only did he portray gross villains and sympathetic monsters, but also he designed all of his own makeup and prosthetics to astounding effect.

Lon Chaney, Sr. made his living by playing some of the most demented characters in movie history. He was known for the incredible emotional power he could evoke beneath layers of makeup and for his facial and bodily expressiveness (both his parents were deaf-mutes, so he had to learn at a young age how to express himself without words). From mad doctors, to amputees and deformed deviants, to bent Chinese patriarchs, to tragic clowns, to insane killers and criminals, Chaney played them all. The first film of his I ever saw was the classic 1925-horror flick, “The Phantom of the Opera” (directed by Rupert Julian). This is easily his most famous and well-known role. Naturally he plays the diabolical and disfigured eponymous phantom. He wears a most unnerving rubber facemask with a crude veil over his mouth to hide his hideousness. The best scene of the film occurs when his lovely muse, Christine Daae (Mary Philbin), is taken to his secret lair beneath the streets of Paris and her curiosity spurs her to approach her musical master while he plays the organ and she removes his mask to reveal his true ugliness. Chaney’s reaction is one of the most memorable few seconds you are likely to see on film. This movie also boasts a colored Masque of the Red Death segment. Although the lavish film presents the Phantom as a deranged killer out for revenge, Chaney brings a darker, more tormented side to his performance. He is the character we see the rest of the film through. We recognize his sorrow and—on those wonderful occasions—cavort as he executes his judgment on the little people of the opera house. We catch ourselves sympathizing with this murderous monster and even rooting for him.

Besides the Phantom, Chaney played a very noble Quasimodo in Wallace Worsley’s  “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” (1923), again implementing his own inventive makeup effects. He played a brilliant scientist whose heartless betrayal at the hands of his mentor and his fiancée, drive him to become a tormented circus clown whose sole act consists of being slapped in the face in Victor Sjostrom’s bizarre tragedy “He Who Gets Slapped” (1924). Chaney played another conflicted, tragic circus clown in Herbert Brenon’s “Laugh, Clown, Laugh” (1928). He joined the circus again for Tod Browning’s (“Dracula,” “Freaks”) “The Unknown,” as well.

“The Unknown” is a particularly strange movie. Set in Spain, Chaney plays a wicked fugitive with double-thumbs, who stuffs his arms in a corset-like device so he can join the circus as Alonzo the Armless, the amazing knife-thrower (he uses his feet…or rather Chaney used the feet of real-life armless wonder, Paul Desmuke). He falls in love with a beautiful circus girl, Nanon Zanzi (Joan Crawford) and—in order to ensure that she will love him and not the circus strongman—he psychologically bewitches her into fearing human arms. Alonzo kills and creates general mayhem while he dreams of how he will make this poor girl his…until his sidekick tells him that if they were to marry Nanon would find out he really has arms and be repulsed. Distraught, Alonzo devises a plan. He cashes in on a favor owed him by a shady doctor and has the doctor amputate his arms. While Alonzo recovers in the hospital, the strongman gets cozy with Nanon and cures her of her fear of arms. When Alonzo meets Nanon again she is engaged to the strongman and Alonzo becomes quite mad. I will not spoil the deranged finale of “The Unknown,” but I urge you to watch for yourself.

Chaney worked with Tod Browning on several projects, including the most famous lost movie in film history, “London After Midnight” (1927). The original “The Unholy Three” (1925) was another great film Chaney collaborated with Browning on. He played a circus ventriloquist who turns to crime along with a dwarf (played by “Freaks” star, Harry Earles) and a strongman. Chaney dresses as an old granny who runs a parrot shop and the dwarf poses as a baby and together the three of them act as jewelry thieves. The film is wonderfully peculiar and a must-see. Chaney’s final film was the 1930 remake of “The Unholy Three.”  It was Chaney’s first and only talkie and he performed five different voices in the film. Apparently “the man of a thousand faces” (as he was so dubbed for his talent with makeup) was also ready to become “the man of a thousand voices” when he died of lung cancer in 1930 at age 47.

After making well over 150 films in his lifetime and establishing himself as a true master of his craft, Lon Chaney, Sr. stands as real treasure that film has been able to make immortal. Chaney’s films are quiet oddities, psychotic marvels, and horrific tragedies and deserve to be celebrated. His performances have been highly regarded for decades and are still just as enchanting today. If you are a movie buff and have never seen a Lon Chaney, Sr. film, I strongly recommend you remedy this, and if you’ve several of his films already then I needn’t hesitate to tell you to see more. I hope I’ve made it quite clear that I am a fan. My hat’s off to you, Mr. Chaney. Thanks for making it fun.

This movie didn’t really impress me very much. It had a somewhat interesting and twisty love story but I had trouble relating to any of the characters. I couldn’t sympathize with any of them really so it was hard to care how the movie turned out.

Self-described “vampire fans” get on my nerves. Why? Mostly because they have no sense of history.  I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with digging vampires. I’ll take bloodsuckers over baseball any day, but if you were to send out a call to organize all of the internet’s nosferatu-philes, chances are you’d hear back from a mass of people made up of two-thirds Twilight fans and one-third girls I went to college with who can trace pop vampirism back to its early roots of …Anne Rice.

Blech.

Sure they might know who Bela Lugosi is but I bet you’d be hard pressed to find too many who’d actually ever seen Universal’s original Dracula.

Today’s vampire fan likes to go on and on about how sexy vampires are, rhapsodizing about the erotic themes and sexual subtext of vampire lore. They think of the modern bodice-busting period pieces, the doomed love of immortal teens and the searing look Gary Oldman gives Winona Ryder in Francis Ford Coppola’s craptastic camp-fest. (Make no mistake, I hate Bram’s Stoker’s Dracula…Fuck it and the bogus accent Keanu Reeves rode in on). They can’t imagine the fires Lugosi stoked in the loins of female filmgoers way back in 1931 or how his stately, gentlemanly behavior, was a creation of Lugosi’s performance, fine-tuned and fleshed out in the original stage production long before the first true filmed adaptation of Stoker’s novel. (It was his popularity in the stage role that won Lugosi the starring role in Universal’s Dracula.)

But if it was Lugosi that started the sexual fire in the heart of Dracula lore (And that’s debatable, the Stoker novel, even though it describes the Count himself as more monstrous and ratlike–more in line with F.W. Murnau’s presentation of him in the silent Nosferatu–it has more than one explicitly passionate passage.) that’s nothing compared to what two other Dracula movies brought to the mythology. Those movies are Dracula’s Daughter, the direct sequel to Tod Browning’s Dracula, and the Spanish Dracula, which was filmed in tandem with Browning’s on the same Universal set but with different costumes, a Spanish-speaking cast, and a different director, George Melford.

Carlos pre="Carlos ">Villarias (Dracula) and Eduardo Arozamena (Van Helsing)

The Spanish version of Dracula was a common studio solution to the problem of how to serve Latin markets in the age of talkies. Silent films could easily be repositioned for international markets by simply translating title cards. But before dubbing was efficient or practical, it was not unusual for major studios to shoot second versions of their broad-appeal features specifically for non-English-speaking audiences. (Can you imagine a time when dubbing was LESS efficient than filming a complete alternate film?!)

One thing that makes the Spanish version of Dracula particularly note-worthy is that, in many ways, it’s a far better film than Tod Browning’s. Of the two directors, Melford definitely had a superior eye for visuals, and scene blocking (–even though, he didn’t even speak Spanish! He worked with his cast through an interpreter). Browning’s Dracula has long been criticized by film scholars for clinging too closely to the details of the stage script it’s based on. Much of Browning’s blocking looks stagey and awkward. There’s very little camera movement and most of the moody atmospherics one associates with that version owe more to the amazing Universal sets and Lugosi’s layered performance.

Spanish Dracula, by comparison, is far more artfully crafted and, though it uses the same script, the performances are steeped in sexual expression. Its variation on the character Mina (Eva, here) is turned into a ravenous sexual animal after her encounter with the Count. The innocent Spanish girl from a few scenes earlier becomes a legitimate predator…complete with cleavage-baring nighties and wild-eyed expressions of animal desire.

That's a lot of cleavage for 1931.

If you’ve ever enjoyed the Lugosi version of Dracula, you owe it to yourself to seek out the Spanish version for comparison. Watching the two films back to back is especially recommended.

Unfortunately, for all of it’s striking beauty, overt sexuality and elegant cinematography, the main weak link in the Spanish version, is Dracula himself. Carlos Villarias’s portrayal of the Count misses the mark in many ways and at times he appears to be performing in a completely different film than the actors around him. It makes you realize how there really is no beating Lugosi in this role. He might not be the greatest vampire to ever grace the screen (I leave that up to you to decide.) but I’d be hard pressed to choose a better actor in the role of Dracula. It belonged to him. (And he knew it. It was widely reported that he was buried in full cape and wardrobe when the Hungarian actor died in 1956). Additionally, there is absolutely no beating Dwight Frye’s portrayal of Renfield. (Tom Waits? Seriously?)

Lupita Tova as Eva Seward in the Spanish "Dracula"

Despite all the things they have in common — sets, studio, script, etc. — the two Dracula’s both leave you with their very own vibe and together they serve as a fine example of how different personalities behind a camera can create two distinct visions of the same tale.

Irving Pichel (Sandor) and Gloria Holden (Dracula's Daughter)

Perhaps even more interesting is the existence of the criminally underseen Dracula’s Daughter. Filmed five years later, as a direct sequel to Dracula, DD brings back Edward Van Sloan’s Professor Van Helsing, in its opening that takes the reins from Dracula’s final scene, in which Van Helsing has finally killed the beast with a stake through the heart. Van Helsing is detained and accused of the “murder” of Dracula and Renfield, whose bodies have been discovered by Scottland Yard. No one believes his defense, because no one believes in vampires…that is, until Dracula’s corpse mysteriously disappears and bodies with tell-tale bite marks start popping up.

Dracula’s daughter, Countess Marya Zaleska (Gloria Holden), has come to town, successfully laid her damned paternal figure to rest by setting his corpse ablaze, and now sets her sights on freeing her own damned self from the dark chains inherent in her bloodline. But old habits and bloodthirsty urges die hard, and Sandor, her nefarious henchman, is no help at all. He embraces the dark and wants Daughter D to do the same.

After seeking the aid of Otto Kruger’s Professor Garth, an old student of Van Helsing, who’s also been called upon to help clear VanHelsing’s name, the Countess tries and fails at step one of her twelve-step recovery from vampirism. When Sandor brings in a midnight snack, in the form of a beautiful street urchin, “to model for a painting” she tries to exercise some self-control. But after a scene absolutely throbbing with lesbian subtext, DD can’t contain herself and the quivvering nymphette ends up being just another sucked-dry body on the pile.

Nan Grey (as victim) and Gloria Holden (as Dracula's Daughter)

Kruger’s Dr. Garth makes for an interestingly offbeat hero, and Holden is haunting and tragic (probably the first reluctant vampire to grace the screen). Despite some slack pacing in the middle, the first and last reel of Daughter do not disappoint. And watching the pre-code seduction of the young urchin makes you realize just how over-the-top pre-code cinema sexuality could be!

Though there’s a purist in me that hesitates to say it, chances are you’ll find both the Spanish Dracula and Dracula’s Daughter more engaging than the confirmed king of vampire movies. But this is not to say you should skip it. Bela Lugosi’s performance helps you to strip away all the cliche’s that we’ve come to associate with Dracula over the years. Not that I don’t love Sesame Street’s Count, Count Chocula and Grampa Munster (Oh, I DO! I DO!) but it’s refreshing to remind yourself what a truly elegant, devilishly dashing bastard Dracula once was.

The Spanish version of Dracula is a “special feature” on several Universal DVD releases of Dracula. Dracula’s Daughter was an added extra on one of those same releases (as was the follow-up threequel, Son of Dracula, starring Lon Chaney Jr., as the parasitic progeny) but I had no trouble tracking it down online.
Both films: ***

An early scene from Dracula’s Daughter:
Watch the 1936 trailer for Dracula’s Daughter:
Here’s an informative little piece on the Spanish-language production, though, I can’t for the life of me identify the source:

by Jonathan Burrello

In my last article, I praised the awesome splendor that is “Frankenstein” and I mentioned how iconic Boris Karloff’s image as the infamous Monster has become. I also mentioned another, possibly even more iconic character: Dracula. Hungarian actor, Bela Lugosi, is practically synonymous with Bram Stoker’s legendary Count. Lugosi made a career of playing evil and supernatural villains with an aristocratic air. He played twisted doctors, cursed men, and many other grotesques, but it is his role as the charismatic Count Dracula that keeps him alive in the public’s eye. Bela Lugosi gives a spooktacular performance making Tod Browning’s (“Freaks,” “The Unholy Three”) classic film “Dracula” (1931) a must-see.

Before Lugosi donned his famous cape, however, there was another great movie vampire. Haunting up the silent cinemas in 1922 was Max Schreck as Count Orlok in F. W. Murnau’s “Nosferatu.” Orlok does not look like your average vampire. Unlike Lugosi’s Dracula, which everyone copied from Christopher Lee to Jack Palance to Frank Langella to William Marshall to Gary Oldman to George Hamilton to Leslie Nielson, etc., “Nosferatu” looks bizarrely unfamiliar and—as a result maybe—more unsettling. With his naked skull, pointed ears, high shoulders, tall stature, long spindly arms and fingers, gaunt features, demonic eye-brows, and jagged incisors, Max Schreck’s vampire is in a class all his own. When Werner Herzog (“Fitzcarraldo,” “Grizzly Man”) directed the remake of “Nosferatu” in 1979 they made actor Klaus Kinski up to look exactly like the sinister bloodsucker from the original and it really worked. Both versions of “Nosferatu” are sure to delight with fright, but I strongly advocate seeing the 1922 version first.

Both “Dracula” (1931) and “Nosferatu” (1922) follow pretty much the same storyline.  A mysterious aristocrat (a.k.a. Vampire) is visited by a hapless solicitor. By the time the visitor learns the truth it is too late and the Count is soon on a voyage to more urban environs (Renfield is played by horror favorite Dwight Frye in “Dracula”). Once established in his new home the Count begins to feed. This is pretty much all you need to know for either film. Beyond this there are many differences. Dracula is more outgoing than Orlok for instance. While Dracula mingles with oblivious socialites, Orlok lurks in the shadows. Since Orlok looks more like a malnourished rodent than a human being it makes sense he wouldn’t be as charming and seductive as Dracula.

I am a big fan of both films. They have the old, spooky castles shrouded in spider webs and that aura of Old World mystery. They have immediately recognizable villains that we catch ourselves rooting for. Both films suck you into their own Gothic fantasy and don’t let go.  “Dracula” also features the fantastic horror treasure, Edward Van Sloan (“Frankenstein,” “The Mummy”) as Dr. Van Helsing (an added bonus to be sure). Where monsters like King Kong, the Hunchback, the Phantom, the Wolf Man, and Frankenstein’s Monster are all misunderstood outcasts who are never truly evil and may be presented more as victims, it is refreshing to see an apologetically wicked character that has the world seemingly wrapped around his finger and delights in his mayhem. Unlike future vampire movies, which would try to portray vampires as tormented pariahs, “Nosferatu” and “Dracula” make no bones about their vampires’ evil nature. They relish the kill and this is what makes the Count so engaging and horrific. There is only one goal: suck blood. Simple? Yes, but it works.

“Nosferatu” and “Dracula” are two masterful classics of the horror genre with fantastic atmosphere and enchanting performances. Need I bother telling you what a magnificent double-feature they would make? Celebrate Halloween this year with a few awesome Counts.

Mutilação da xoxota é foda! [Lars Von Trier mestre, vou me redimir de um dia ter te achado um chato metido a sobrehumanamente inteligente].

Vou falar aleatoriamente aqui sobre alguns filmes atuais, e um clássico maravilhoso, sob a ótica da isolação, com Von Trier incluído na lista [falando nele, que foto linda a que ele tirou de gravata borboleta, todo in black sentado em uma poltrona do vovô e com um corvo morto no chão hein?].

Já cantava a música do JoyDivision, Isolation!

Surrendered to self preservation
From others who care for themselves
A blindness that touches perfection
But hurts just like anything else

Depois dessas palavras proferidas pelo [Rest In Peace] Ian Curtis, digo simplesmente: Charlotte Gainsbourg. Que coragem encarar a tortura de quase duas horas. Não tem sequer uma cena em  Antichrist onde a personagem que a atriz teve-que-suportar-interpretar não esteja perturbada emocionalmente, nem nas tão-faladas-e-na-verdade-pouca-coisa cenas de sexo [Quem acha essas cenas 'sexo explicito', não assistiu nada ainda nessa vida, nem sequer um Lust, Caution - que também é implícito mas muito mais forte. Filme muito bom, por sinal]. O sexo presente em Anticristo é um ‘velozes e furiosos’, é muito mais uma situação tensa e uma explosão de raiva do que sexo, com exceção do ballet orquestrado em P&B no Prólogo [o filme é dividido em capítulos, como todo mundo sabe]. No entanto, embora o sexo não seja explícito nem erótico, os órgãos sexuais são bem explícitos, especificamente em duas cenas chocantes de assombrar a vida saudável de qualquer pessoa. Se você for homem, nunca mais vai querer gozar, se for mulher, nunca mais vai se depilar na vida. Os personagens isolados em uma floresta sombria [re?]descobrem uma natureza malvada incrustada no âmago da feminilidade desde tempos remotos. Lars Von trier, seu maquiavélico! Levantou bem a bandeira da misoginia, muito bem. Que filmaço.

Sem falar na qualidade de som e imagem, nas experiências com cortes e fantasmagorias, na sanguinolência e na computação gráfica [ou não] muito realista nos animais. Falamos aqui , quem sabe, de um Cannibal Holocaust??? segundo os créditos, não. Eu tenho lá minhas dúvidas, mas as capacidades do cinema moderno nos deixam mesmo perplexos na semelhança com a realidade.

Enquanto na floresta do Eden o pau come, um filme que era pra ter sido lançado em 2007 nos cinemas de todo o mundo, chega agora em 2009 direto em DVD (Leiam aqui a historinha contada por Pedro Beck). Trick’r Treat é “o” filme de haloween, diversão que facilmente vai se juntar a Sleepy Hollow, Evil Dead, Creepshow et cetera na lista dos melhores pra se assistir nessa época do ano. Produzido pelo adaptador de quadrinhos Brian Synger, esse filme tem um roteiro com altos e baixos mas pra lá de bacana, onde algumas histórias se interligam na noite de haloween de uma cidadezinha do interior americano. É uma homenagem aos quadrinhos clácicos da EC [vide Tales from the Crypt] que já teve diversas outras homenagens por aí, sendo a mais memorável o próprio anteriormente-citado Creepshow. Os personagens isolados também tem um importante papel nesse filme extremamente focado na imagem: Uma nerdinha que sofre bullying e vive trancada em casa pesquisando sobre  a noite de Samhain é a peça chave em uma das histórias – que acaba lançando mão de um flashback onde um ônibus escolar para alunos especiais afunda na lagoa; Remetendo ao mesmo flashback, a história que encerra o(s) conto(s) por completo é carregada de peso na consciência de um personagem isolado em sua casa, alheio à festividade.

Esse filminho divertiu minha tarde esses dias, e eu pretendo reassisti-lo em breve, muito em breve. Em alguns momentos me lembrou também das melhores partes de Companhia dos Lobos, do Neil Jordan, com uma pitada de Joe Dante também. Na verdade, me lembrou de muita coisa, e esse citacionismo é bom – apesar da crítica só considerar legal quando isso vem de Quentin Tarantino.

Um filme que eu ví já tem tempo em versão CAM, que eu já neeeem lembrava mais, chegou no cinema por estes cafundós – o tal do Orphan, que gerou o bafafá todo com a associação dos orfanatos dos EUA que queriam boicotar a parada com uma campanha cheia de charme com adaptações do cartaz oficial. Claro que eu me empolguei tanto quanto com a campanha de e-mails forwarded pra não assistir Turistas. Corri pra ver.

Resultado: achei o filme uma tentativa de ser O Anjo Mau (lembram do Macaulay Culkin na sessão da tarde, matando cachorro com prego?). Mas claro, O Anjo Mau supera. Nem a participação de uma sósia da Whoopi Goldberg em Mudança de Hábito morrendo à base de martelada salvou, na minha humilde opinião. Você vai no cinema pra assistir Supercine? eu não, e na verdade até dispensa na minha noite de Sábado também. Mas existe um único fator legal no filme, que é talvez o ponto de virada em que o filme se permite um toque mágico do cinema fantastique. E que é algo que não posso citar mais, depois que já acabei com a graça de certas pessoas spoileando geral! Mas enfim, depois disso dá pra sacar mais ou menos o isolamento da garotinha que todos têm em vista como uma peculiar superdotada que toca piano, sabe russo, pinta e borda [literalmente]. Depois dessa mudança repentina no roteiro, eu comecei a achar o filme mais parecido com o clássico comédia do Tom Holland, Brinquedo Assassino. Pobre Chucky… como você conseguiria se sociabilizar estando preso àquele corpo? não tem Good Guy certo. E, ao falar em orfanatos [assim como asilos, prisões, gaiolas e até casamentos, a depender] o pior de tudo é quando o isolamento é alheio à sua vontade. Você simplesmente está. Get Frenzy, then!

Voltando agora ao Anticristo lá de cima, é perceptivel até onde o isolamento pode levar uma pessoa – “Quando os três mendigos chegarem, alguém deve morrer”. Mas o afastamento psicológico retratado no filme de Lars Von Trier é referente a uma espécie de fraqueza perante si mesmo, apesar da ajuda de todos. O isolamento acaba sendo uma opção teleguiada da personagem pelo próprio sentimento de culpa em que se encontra, mas sentimentos mudam e logo que a consciência e racionabilidade retornar, a sociabilidade se instaura novamente e os amigos aguardam de braços abertos. Já a situação física não muda, e o isolamento que vem do outro em relação a você – a rejeição – não é passivel de mudança. Assim como a órfã está presa em uma situação que automaticamente a isola, todos os personagens retratados por Tod Browning no clássico Freaks, da década de 30, estão automaticamente isolados a partir do momento em que nascem.

A obra, além de perfeita em qualidade de imagem, composição, roteiro, diálogos, é também um grito de socorro, um alerta, e funciona muito bem até como metáfora política, onde a união faz a força dos mais fracos. O que restou do filme [que apesar dos milhares de cortes ainda foi proibido em muitos países e mal-falado na época, sendo desenterrado em tempos de contracultura e paz-e-amor] não passa de uma hora e uns pingados de duração, mas é um espetáculo apart perto de qualquer filme atual e ainda mais de sua época. Um dos raros prazeres que só as pérolas do cinema de horror proporcionam. Que Cidadão Kane que nada. Tod Browning já fazia arte e Orson Welles devia estar engatinhando.

Vou encerrar, chega de considerações por hoje. Pra quem gosta do gênero, abraça a causa e corre pra assistir Freaks, Antichrist e Trick’r Treat [Orphan não, é desnecessário hahaha] sem mais palavras de minha parte e sem mais demora – e ainda comenta aqui na sequência o que achou. Nada de ficar se isolando [pra não acabar igual a Gainsbourg, batendo siririca no mato]. “We accept you, one of us…”

Saul Mendez para o Gore Bahia 14/10/2009

]]> http://mentesinkietas.wordpress.com/2009/10/07/freaks-de-tod-browning/ Wed, 07 Oct 2009 16:33:34 +0000 Nevermind http://mentesinkietas.wordpress.com/2009/10/07/freaks-de-tod-browning/ http://deralltaeglichewahnsinn.wordpress.com/2009/09/30/neues-buch-von-mir-erschienen-bram-stokers-dracula-ein-vergleich-zwischen-buch-und-film/ Wed, 30 Sep 2009 13:02:28 +0000 Udo http://deralltaeglichewahnsinn.wordpress.com/2009/09/30/neues-buch-von-mir-erschienen-bram-stokers-dracula-ein-vergleich-zwischen-buch-und-film/

Mein neues Buch ist draußen. Es geht darin – no na ned – um meinen Lieblingsvampirfürsten!

Amazon-Link gibts links unter Bücher.

After all that Disney nonsense for the last post it’s time for a change of pace and tone don’t you think? I’ve been mulling over some clever methods to celebrate the occasion of my 300th post then came to my senses and realised a more conventional idea would be easier to construct, especially since I could incorporate coverage on two pictures I’ve caught recently that I don’t have the time to craft full blown reviews for. Hopefully this will all make sense as you read through. So here we go, a traditional top ten of a particular genre and I’ve decided to kick off with my beloved horror as one of the ten actually got a very limited re-release this week and I caught it at my local cinema last night - the divination is clear. These are my personal favourites, they are not necessarily the best films in the genre, the most influential, the most popular – they are my favourites for a variety of reasons that I will attempt to eviscerate. So draw the shades, light the candles, clutch your holy symbol to your heart pounding chests and let’s begin….

You have to have a Bela Lugosi on your list or you simply don’t know what you’re talking about right? This was has it all, the original cliches, the over-acting, the gothic atmosphere and architecture, the sense of cinema history being made – can you imagine that people actually fainted during this chillers original run back in 1931? I like the absences, the lack of a church choir or other ominous musical mood on the scratchy soundtrack with the Counts reveal, a sign of its 1930’s pedigree as film hesitantly embraced the recent advent of sound.

Likewise a Karloff is mandatory. The original of course is a close run thing but it’s the pathos in this one, the 1935 sequel that appeals more to my sensibilities. That’s Elsa Lancaster as the bride, she was married to Charles Laughton dontchaknow…

So, it was a digital projection of ‘The Thing‘ that I  saw last night and it was magnificent. I’ve never seen on the big screen, in full scope and with the new colour palette it was like seeing it for the first time. The visuals shimmer and glistened quite unlike even the Blu Ray copy I have sitting on my shelf, I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of watching this movie. Most of the effects stand up although the Albert Whitlock mattes of the alien ship don’t pass muster and the crab/spider head moment did generate a few laughs from the audience. No matter, it has that Morricone score, the paranoia, terrific pacing that slowly turns the thumbscrews until that ending. It was this movie that got Dean Cundey the DP job on ‘Jurassic Park’ by the way, demonstrating his ability to meld live action with SFX and photograph imaginary creatures so convincingly. Apocalyptic crimson bliss.

Do I have to repeat myself? I should hope not. I’ll just add a recent observation I picked up that the steadicam shots of Danny riding his tricycle from behind are counterpoised with the steadicam shots of Jack coming toward the camera and it almost recoiling away from him in the film. Or maybe someone’s over thinking things again.

Hmm, I do wonder if the next one will actually come to fruition with Ridley at the helm. The original remains the textbook SF/horror mash-up which remains unsurpassed on a panoply of levels, the feminist subtexts, the corporate machinations, the use of ‘alien’ as metaphor, the blend of genre with the old dark house motif  transported to some star system several hundreds of years hence. Or maybe mere decades. ‘I admire its purity’ indeed…

The film’s not up so you’ll have to make do with this extended trailer which has its own cultural value. ‘Psycho‘ is the ultimate ‘entry’ film – hear me out - in that any fledgling horror fan will inevitably stumble across it in some way in any horror film compilation book worth reading. Intrigued after years of watching badly made, exploitation driven trash the fledgling cineaste takes a look at ’Psycho‘ and for want of a better word gets an education on how exactly how a proper film is constructed, how expectations are manipulated, twisted and feigned. Once you’ve had that realisation you never go back and you start looking at and admiring other films, not just horror and genre films, for their craftsmanship or lack thereof. The next thing you know you’re shelling out over £500 a year on going to the cinema and at least equal that on film related paraphernalia. Welcome to my world. The shower scene is obviously one of the all time great montages in cinema and it ushered in a whole sub-genre – its effect on subsequent movies is incalculable. It’s an over used word but there is no other to match it – masterpiece.

I’m going to cheat and lump the first three of the dead trilogy into one, ’Night‘, ‘Dawn‘ and for me the underrated ‘Day‘, they are all equally valid in my book. Why did I elect to use the above trailer? Because it is funny. It doesn’t sound like the new one ‘Survival Of The Dead‘ like ‘Land’ and ‘Diary’ is any good either which is a real shame, I think Romero really needs to think about doing something else. Horror cinema as political and social comment doesn’t come any more potent and they are just sheer, havoc strewn glee with plenty of quotable lines and moments. You know you’ll get along with someone just fine when you casually drop your zombie outbreak plans into conversation and they reply in the affirmative instead of looking at you like you’re insane. Me? Oh, I’ve got a short dash to the Thames then it’s off to Greenland in the first boat I can liberate.

You also have to have a Vincent Price in a dodgy B movie chiller don’t you? This is one of my guilty favourites I guess, I find that opening genuinely unsettling and immersive purely because of its guerilla, claustrophobic sheen, the trailer eleborates on this in a couple of moments. Knocked out in a few days? Sure. Cutting corners due to the miniscule budget? Naturally. Terrific fun? Absolutely. Like others the problem I find with most of the recent horror releases (by recent I mean in the past two decades) is that they are so polished, so professional and consequently so soulless. Have you seen the latest ‘Friday 13th’ movie yet? The catering budget could have probably been used to put together a couple of AIP films like this which are several hundred times more fun, warts and all. The best podcast on B-Movie shenanigans can be found here, it’s a regular favourite on itunes etc and as usual comes highly recommended.

Again I’m repeating myself from previous posts but there is no better embeddable clip out there although the whole film is up in HD on youtube. Nice. And finally a quiet little clip from Japan:

I mean just what the FUCK is going on here? Yes, I was shocked at the ending the first time I saw it just like everyone else – a perfect and wholly earned ending I have to add – but it was always this sequence that freaked me the fuck out. It’s the build up to that gruesome denouement which makes this not only Miike’s best film for dare I say it its maturity, the reigning in of his trademark shock tactics until the final reveal but also its sly dig at the continuing patriarcial oppression in the orient. It’s horrible but didn’t our hero, well, kind of deserve it? In the film world that is, not the real world of course. I’m not a psycho.

OK so I’m a psycho, what a charming trilogy of images…<sigh>…I’m going to hell. Of course I’ve missed some classics but that’s the nature of lists. I’d have loved to have included a Hammer, specifically this which is my favourite, ‘Salem’s Lot‘ will always have a place in my heart for scaring me as a kid even though its TV origins are a little laughable now and ‘Texas Chainsaw‘ is a shame but ten is ten, even when its, um, twelve. And of course this and the first sequel. OK, I hate lists now…

Tod Browning is not a name that is often uttered in the same breath as the elite horror filmmakers of yore, the Cronenbergs, the Carpenters, Whales, Cravens and Romeros. A quick scan through Browning’s CV however (Christ they really knocked ‘em out in those days huh? Sixty films in twenty years) reveals a number of essential entries into the genre back in the fertile thirties . His career was effectively destroyed by a crippling alcoholism compounded with the release of one of cinema’s most controversial and daring movies – ‘Freaks‘ – which remained banned in a number of countries for decades and I think only getting its first VHS release in the early nineties. As I mentioned before I caught his film ’The Devil Doll‘ in Paris in a newly restored print and as much as I’d love to divulge how this was a magnificent cinematic experience, a film text equal to the luxurious environs of central Paris, an undiscovered masterpiece worthy of illumination I cannot tell a lie – this was a bad movie.  Taking into account its 73 year pedigree this was still extraordinarily clunky in dialogue, quite a shock given that it has the likes of Erich Von Stroheim on the writing chores not to mention the likes of Cedric Gibbons and Franz Waxman rounding off some of the behind the screen talent. It’s not a total loss, the vision of this transvestite killer is quite surreal to behold and certainly marks the film as somewhat unique for its period and the primitive mattes of the dolls going about their nefarious business has some attraction for the film connoisseur but that’s about it. The bolted on romance thread is terrible and seems to have been developed only to give the movie a 70 minute running time. By the way that’s Lionel Barrymore in the lead, brother of John and grand uncle of Drew, one of those Hollywood dynasties like the Fonda’s and Huston’s whose progeny continue to work in the film business. Certainly the best black and white transvestite telepathic dwarf revenge murder picture I’ve seen all year though.

The thirties was a rich period in horror film history, possibly superior to the 1970’s renaissance with the likes of ‘White Zombie‘, ‘Mark Of The Vampire‘, ‘Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde‘, ‘The Mystery Of The Wax Museum‘, ‘The Old Dark House‘ all terrorising audiences not to mention the original ‘Frankenstein‘, ‘The Mummy‘, ‘Dracula‘ and ‘The Wolf Man‘ (which gets yet another remake early next year) establishing the tropes and traditions that have embedded themselves in popular culture for the past eighty years. I’m not sure why that era released such a crop of movies, a prelude to the horrors of the Second World War perhaps? Who knows? I do know that if these movies hadn’t scared the bejesus out of the likes of Ray Bradbury, John Landis, Joe Dante, Spielberg, Lucas and others the world would be a duller place.

This week in my Trash Cinema class my students watched and discussed Tod Browning’s controversial horror film turned cult masterpiece, Freaks (1932). Freaks was released by MGM, but it was an odd choice for the studio given that their house style was associated with glamourous stars (Greta Garbo, John Barrymore), elegant settings, and story properties teeming with cultural capital. But after seeing the phenomenal box office returns for Frankenstein (1931, James Whale) and other Universal studios horror films, Irving Thalberg is supposed to have said to Tod Browning, “I want something that out-horrors Frankenstein!” (qtd. in Norden 115).

Theatrical poster for Freaks

What Browning submitted to Thalberg was a film that touched on many of the themes that he had covered in previous releases like The Penalty (1920), The Unnkown (1927), and The Unholy Three (1930). These bleak stories emphasize protagonists (all played by the incomparable Lon Chaney) with physical disabilities and how these disabilities shape their personalities and affect those around them.

Lon Chaney as the vengeful amputee, Blizzard, in The Penalty

Freaks is a tale of love and vengeance in a traveling circus. But unlike his Lon Chaney collaborations, which relied on prosthetics and binding to create the image of disability, Browning cast real life “freaks” (a term embraced by the sideshow community and the freaks themselves) in his film. As a result, many anecdotes have circulated about the strange production history of this film. Most famously, F. Scott Fitzgerald, a sometime scriptwriter at MGM, allegedly walked out of the studio cafeteria in disgust when he saw the famous Siamese twins, Daisy and Violet Hilton, eating there. Another employee recalls “Suddenly, we who were sitting in the commissary having lunch would find ‘Zip the What-Is-It’ sitting at the next table or the Siamese twins who were linked together, and half the studio would empty when they would walk in because the appetites went out” (qtd. in Norden 118).

Daisy and Violet Hilton

MGM employees were not the only ones to make a fuss about Browning’s casting choices. The Hays Office (which would not heavily crack down on studios until 1934) requested numerous cuts of the original print and a disastrous test screening alerted the studio that the film was going to be controversial and problematic. The uncut version of Freaks (which is lost to this day) did well in its brief, initial run but MGM eventually withdrew it from circulation. The scandal surrounding the film permanently damaged Browning’s career and resulted in Thalberg’s demotion (Norden 118). Clever exploiteer Dwain Esper knew the value of the film, however, and took it on the road, marketing it as an exploitation film under sensational titles like Forbidden Love and Nature’s Mistakes.

Famous publicity photo for Freaks, featuring much of the cast with director, Tod Browning

But what was so problematic about this film? What was so horrifying, so offensive, that it ruined careers? In her essay “Intolerable Ambiguity: Freaks as/at the Limit,” Elizabeth Grosz attempts to unpack our fascination with freak shows. She concludes that the individuals most frequently showcased in these spectacles, including Siamese twins, hermaphrodites, “pinheads” (microcephalics), midgets, and bearded ladies “imperil the very definitions we rely on to classify humans, identities and sexes — our most fundamental categories of self-definition and boundaries dividing self from otherness” (57). In other words, while we comfort ourselves by breaking down the world into neat binary oppositions, such as Male/Female, Self/Other, Human/Animal, Child/Adult, “freaks” blur the boundaries between these reassuring oppositions. She concludes, “The freak confirms the viewer as bounded, belonging to a ‘proper’ social category. The viewer’s horror lies in the recognition that this monstrous being is at the heart of his or her identity, for it is all that must be ejected or abjected from self-image to make the bounded, category-obeying self possible” (65). We need the freak to confirm our own static, bounded identities. And yet, I think there is a certain terror that we may not be as bounded as we think. If the hermaphrodite can transcend traditional gender categories, then perhaps our own genders are more fluid. For many that is a truly horrifying thought.

For example, in one of the film’s earliest scenes we witness the “pinheads” Schlitze, Elvira and Jenny Lee dancing and playing in the forest. From a distance they look like innocent, happy children. But as the camera approaches, it is clear that they are neither children, nor are they quite adults either. Thus it is the ambiguity here, rather than the disability itself, which is momentarily disturbing.

Grosz also mentions that “Any discussion of freaks brings back into focus a topic that has had a largely underground existence in contemporary cultural and intellectual life, partly because it is considered below the refined sensibilities of ‘good taste’ and ‘personal politeness’ in a civilized and politically correct milieu” (55). It is for this reason that I selected Freaks for my Trash Cinema course — the film, as well as its content, is considered to be in bad taste. It is in bad taste to exploit those with handicaps for a profit and it’s even worse to view the handicapped with horror, as Freaks seems to be asking us to do.

During our class discussion, I wanted the students to talk about these issues as well as Browning’s failure in the film. Freaks preaches acceptance and, as the above scene claims, the belief that we are all “God’s children.” And yet, the film was intended to “out horror” Frankenstein through its fantastic display of disabled bodies.

However, this teaching moment failed as soon as I replayed the famous “wedding banquet” scene for my students. In this scene the freaks have gathered to celebrate the marriage of a midget, Hans (Harry Earles), to the trapeze artist, Cleopatra (Olga Baclanova). Cleopatra and her lover, Hercules (Henry Victor), plan to poison Hans in order to collect his vast inheritance, but at this point the freaks are unaware of her ulterior motives and attempt to embrace her as one of the group.

I wanted my students to see how Browning had made this scene “horrific” by having the freaks don their performance clothing (which serves to further highlight their differences) and chant in unison, “Gooble gobble, gooble gobble! One of us! One of us!” while beating rhythmically on the table. While the words themselves are friendly and accepting, they almost sound like a threat in this scene. Indeed, in the film’s opening frame story, a sideshow barker introduces the diegetic audience to an unseen but undoubtedly horrific sight: “You are about to witness the most amazing, the most astounding living monstrosity of all time!” (Here a woman in the crowd screams and recoils in horror). “Friends,” he continues, “she was once a beautiful woman…” This opening indicates that Cleopatra will meet a horrifying fate at some point during the film.

At the film's conclusion it is revealed that Cleopatra has been turned into a freak herself

My students, however, were not horrified by this scene. They did not think Browning was exploiting his disabled actors by making them appear monstrous or threatening. Rather, many of them saw this scene as a celebration of diversity and a warm welcome to Cleopatra (who would reject that welcome moments later). The only monstrous characters in this scene, according to my students, are Hercules and Cleopatra.

I then asked them to discuss the film’s violent climax, when the freaks exact their revenge on Hercules and Cleopatra. I pointed out that in the film’s opening a man describes the frolicking pinheads as horrible, twisted things that “crawl and glide” in the dark. We are meant to dismiss this cruel assessment and yet, in the revenge scene, the freaks are depicted as horrible, twisted, gliding things (Hawkins 269). They crawl through the mud, clutching knives, and peer out at their victims through the darkness. Although the entire film argues that the freaks are happy, normal, loving human beings, this scene appears to undo that message. I wanted my students to therefore question why Browning depicted his disabled actors in this way, exploiting their physical differences as a method for horrifying his primarily able-bodied audience. Indeed, many contemporary critics of the film denounced this scene as a “significant miscalculation by Browning and his scenarists” (Norden 116).

While my students admitted that Browning seemed to replicate the very imagery he denounced earlier in the film, they felt very strongly that the revenge — Hercules is stabbed while Cleopatra is horribly disfigured — was warranted. While most horror films ask us to identify with the helpless victim and his or her suffering, my students argued that their sympathies never shifted. Cleopatra got what she deserved.

Although this class discussion did not go the way I intended — I wanted to talk about taste and exploitation — it did prove to be an interesting example of how a film’s reception can change dramatically over time. In 1932 Browning intended to “horrify” with this film and he succeeded to such an extent that MGM had to pull the film from circulation. Although Browning successfully horrified his contemporary audiences, who were accustomed to the conventions of the freak show, it is possible that his own view of his disabled actors is more in line with those of my students, who saw the film as a quaint tale of love and revenge. So maybe Browning was not an exploiteer after all — maybe he was just making his film for the wrong audience? Regardless, I will need to rethink these issues before I teach Freaks again.

Works Cited

Grosz, Elizabeth. “Intolerable Ambiguity: Freaks as/at the Limit.” Freakery: Cultural Spectacles of the Extraordinary Body. Ed. Rosemarie Garland Thomson. New York: New York University Press, 1996. 55-68.

Hawkins, Joan. ” ‘One of Us’: Tod Browning’s Freaks.” Freakery: Cultural Spectacles of the Extraordinary Body. Ed. Rosemarie Garland Thomson. New York: New York University Press, 1996. 265-276.

Norden, Martin F. The Cinema of Isolation: A History of Physical Disability in the Movies. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1994.