Tag: horror

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Terrestrial terror

Cult filmmaker Ben Wheatley used his pandemic time to craft the wilderness horror movie In the Earth. Photo from Neon

Blending folk horror, environmental anxiety, and good old-fashioned psychopathy, In the Earth is not your everyday horror film. It’s a steady exercise in suspense, filled with slowly growing doom and unforeseeable instability.

Written and directed by Ben Wheatley, the movie is a return to the British filmmaker’s roots. It’s difficult to summarize the career of a shapeshifter like Wheatley. Though he began his directing career in television, he has firmly established himself as a filmmaker who plays in various sandboxes, bringing his own twisted tools along with him. Jumping between budgets and genres with relative ease, Wheatley is a master at making his audience squirm.

Sightseers is his crack at dark comedy, with an emphasis on the dark. Free Fire is a shoot ’em up focused almost entirely on the shooting, devoid of details like plot and character development. His most unique film to date is A Field In England, which deals with alchemy during the English Civil War in stark black and white. His adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, starring Lily James and Armie Hammer, was released directly to streaming last year, with a deservedly mixed reception.

In the Earth is Wheatley’s second foray into folk horror (his first was the tense and haunting Kill List), and takes place in our own uncertain times. Wheatley began writing his script after the first UK COVID-19 lockdown, and the film was shot in the midst of the global outbreak. Reflecting the reality behind the camera, the plot spotlights virus fear and concern in its opening moments.

When we first see Martin (Joel Fry), he is approaching a cabin, and gets stopped for decontamination. He’s there to find Dr. Olivia Wendle (Hayley Squires), a colleague who was doing research in the woods and abruptly stopped communicating. Alma (Ellora Torchia) knows the woods well, and offers to take Martin to find Wendle, though the hike to where she is suspected to be will last days.

The pandemic and the spookiness of the woods ratchets up the tension, and Wheatley throws myriad obstacles into the expedition. There’s talk of a witch who protects the forest, and it seems that the travelers are not alone.

Human, natural, and supernatural threats pummel Martin and Alma on their journey. In less skilled hands, the mishmash of horrors could have been overwhelming, but Wheatley never makes it confusing, and the trickle of interconnected fresh hells adds an additional fear: conspiracy.

None of these shocks would land without Wheatley’s deft assembly of sound design, cinematography, and score. Whatever fright is lurking in the woods needs to be heard, and not necessarily seen, and taking in the beauty of the forest while building suspense within the threatening surroundings strikes the right balance.

Historically, Wheatley has a propensity for building his way to grand finales, and In the Earth is no exception—but don’t mistake it for a thrill ride. The pace is intentional and measured, and Martin must face each threat as he is slowly guided through the woods. He does not flinch, even when that seems impossible. The film’s ultimate payoff is a natural culmination of the gore, frights, and dread. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.

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Arts

Emotional undoing: Midsommar runs deep on horror and humanity

Florence Pugh is one half of an American couple that travels to Sweden to witness a pagan festival. A24

When a horror movie reaches a certain level of pedigree or critical acclaim, it’s common in some circles to find any word other than “horror” to describe it. “That was just a really scary drama.” Or, “I think it was more of a thriller,” a genre that can overlap but is still distinct. “Post-horror” is the best one, the idea that evolution in horror films means they’re something different entirely. When comedic sensibilities change, we don’t declare the result “post-comedy,” so why can’t we sit comfortably with a horror movie with lofty ambitions?

Ari Aster is one of the filmmakers covering a lot of emotional ground using the horror DNA—first with Hereditary and now with Midsommar. Aster seems primarily motivated by catharsis in the wake of tragedy and the inability to find it in conventional social structures; it comes through the machinations of secret, isolated religious societies with a flair for violence. Sometimes the catharsis is literal, through fire, but it’s always through the destruction of the world in which we once sought comfort.

With such similar undertones, it’s fascinating that Hereditary and Midsommar would be so different. There are horrifying images in Midsommar that might haunt you, but the goal is not to terrify. It’s to examine the notion that certain people who engage in taboo practices are savages while we in modern society are enlightened. We care for the lives in our bodies and social stability, while this supposedly backward community values spiritual continuity and the sharing of all emotions, positive and negative. Their practices involve death according to tradition, ours involve prolonged dying in isolation and alienation. If you lost everything and had no life worth returning to, which would you choose?

The story follows a group of anthropology students who travel to witness the Hårga Midsommar festival in a remote Swedish village. Dani (Florence Pugh) is invited along by her boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor), after a terrible, sudden tragedy. The quaint, pleasant, serene location charms the Americans—also including Josh (William Jackson Harper) and Mark (Will Poulter)—though the constant light of the midnight sun and a peculiar attitude toward sex, death, and the ritualistic use of bodily fluids sometimes prove too much to handle. Adding fuel to the fire is the tension between Dani and Christian; before the tragedy, he had intended to end the relationship. Though he goes through the motions of being supportive, it rings hollow, putting on a performative display of virtue with no genuine concern for her wellbeing. Only the Hårga seem invested in her. The American students are alternately fascinated and horrified by the Hårga traditions, but it’s Dani who experiences the rituals as intended.

Echoes of The Wicker Man inhabit every corner of Midsommar, visually and thematically, which Aster evidently knows and does not try to conceal. Though there are some narrative beats and images that can’t help but be compared to the 1973 folk horror classic, focusing on the similarities would be a disservice to both films. It’s as though Aster expects people to go in thinking they know what to expect, but even if they’re right, they are wrong about the lingering emotions. And it was a very clever move to make the characters anthropology students; anyone else would have run away screaming, unable to compartmentalize.

The story is very much a personal one, tied to the events of Dani’s recent past and her frayed relationship with Christian, but there is a social message here too. We no longer make sacrifices, we no longer believe in blood magic, but we have lost all sense of shared emotions. Amongst the Hårga, if one person cries out in pain, the whole village does. If one person moans in sexual delight, or screams in desperation, everyone joins in, syncs the rhythms of their noises, and experiences the sensation together, both heightening it and allowing it to pass more naturally. Christian resents Dani’s pain. The Hårga cherish and share it. What does it mean that this quasi-cult understands humanity at its deepest, rawest levels better than supposedly civilized Westerners?

Midsommar / R, 140 minutes / Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema 377 Merchant Walk Sq., 326-5056, Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX The Shops at Stonefield, 244-3213, Violet Crown Cinema 200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall, 529-3000, Check theater websites for listings.

See it again
Jaws

PG, 124 minutes / Alamo Drafthouse Cinema / July 7

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Arts

Movie review: Hereditary taps the dark side of the psyche

With Hereditary, writer-director Ari Aster debuts as a master of dread, creating a “nightmare with its own logic.” Courtesy A24 Films

Ari Aster’s Hereditary may be the best, scariest, and most effective American horror film in years. Not because it has the loudest scares, not because its ghosts have the creepiest faces, and not because its deaths are the most gruesome (though it does have its share). Writer-director Aster’s feature film debut builds dread at an astounding rate thanks to masterful pacing, establishing the thematic foundation that disturbs viewers before they are able to make literal sense of anything, and by living up to its foreshadowing with sequences and images that are far more frightening than you anticipated. It promises to be the most terrifying, unpredictable movie you’ve ever seen—which, let’s be honest, most horror movies do—then exceeds even that lofty promise.

Hereditary
R, 123 minutes
Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX, Violet Crown Cinema

The word-of-mouth campaign following Hereditary’s debut at Sundance has been the stuff of film festival legend, as critics and audiences struggled to describe it without giving anything away. The truth is that it is very easy to summarize what happens, but Hereditary is a journey best taken alongside its characters, not above them. Some of the things experienced by the Graham family are retribution for their own mistakes, while some are the result of manipulations they cannot perceive, so they don’t know whether to confront or flee. Would either do any good? Do they have any free will at all that might alter the outcome, or are they trapped?

All of these questions have answers, but Hereditary is not a puzzle box. It is a nightmare with its own logic. The film follows the Graham family after the death of secretive grandmother Ellen. Her daughter, Annie (Toni Collette), has worked hard to keep the family together despite numerous tragedies and a history of mental illness on her side. Husband Steve (Gabriel Byrne) is supportive and son Peter (Alex Wolff) is attempting to live a normal teenage life despite all of the strangeness surrounding him. Their daughter, Charlie (Milly Shapiro), has numerous issues, ranging from allergies to general awareness, almost as though she does not fully belong.

This is not much of a description, but what follows must be seen to be believed. There are several devastating events that in a lesser film would have simply been too much, but Aster understands how to keep us off-kilter while giving us proper time to react before things really spiral toward their conclusion.

The most effective horror films always contain some kernel of relatable anxiety in the minds of the audience that mutates into the story we see on the screen. In Hereditary, there are numerous such examples: Do our parents’ identities, flaws and outright sins transfer to us? Do the fabulist stories we concoct in our youth reflect some truth, and do the inconsistencies we overlook or explain away as adults contain something more sinister? Perhaps the eeriest thing that Aster pinpoints here is the vacant yet joyful expression of those experiencing spiritual elation. The only thing preventing me from recommending Hereditary to everyone is how truly disturbing it can be, but the film is an instant horror classic of the highest caliber.

Playing this week

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema
377 Merchant Walk Sq., 326-5056

Avengers: Infinity War, Deadpool 2, Incredibles 2, Ocean’s 8, Solo: A Star Wars Story, Upgrade

Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX
The Shops at Stonefield, 244-3213

Adrift, A Quiet Place, Action Point, Avengers: Infinity War, Breaking In, Book Club, Deadpool 2, Hotel Artemis, Incredibles 2, Ocean’s 8, Show Dogs, Solo: A Star Wars Story, Upgrade

Violet Crown Cinema
200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall, 529-3000

Adrift, Avengers: Infinity War, Book Club, Claire’s Camera, Deadpool 2, First Reformed, Isle of Dogs, Solo: A Star Wars Story

Categories
Arts

Local women break through in fantasy and horror

Queens of the Damned organizer Madeline Iva penned the romance fantasy Wicked Apprentice and contributes to the blog Lady Smut. Courtesy of subject

‘‘My book came out last year a week before the presidential elections,” says Madeline Iva, author of the fantasy romance Wicked Apprentice. “What I came away with, standing in the blasted devastation of our liberal democratic psyche, was that I’d just written a book about a woman who ends up holding all the power—and people are very nervous about it.”

The experience inspired Iva’s upcoming panel, Queens of the Damned: Women Who Write Horror, Fantasy and Paranormal Fiction, and she will lead a discussion October 28 at Barnes & Noble on how women are challenging and changing genre fiction.

“The title of this panel references that post-election moment,” Iva says. “I have to keep writing that kind of book. Young women need to see and hear about women having power, being comfortable with it, and everyone else not freaking out.”

Whether carving a path in a male-dominated industry or beating the odds to actually publish and attract readers, these women prove the power of positive action in publishing.

Elizabeth Massie, Desper Hollow

“Horror is often thought of as a ‘guy’s genre.’ It’s edgy, gritty, scary and sometimes no-holds-barred graphic,” says the two-time Bram Stoker Award winner. “I don’t begrudge my male horror writer counterparts any recognition they have rightly earned—that would be sexist. But I do know woman horror writers have a ways to go.”

Shawnee Small, The Night Kind series

“I was a goth for over 20 years, both here in Charlottesville when I did my English literature degree at UVA in the early ’90s, and also later, when I lived abroad in the U.K. during my 20s and 30s. As a fantasy author, I decided from the onset that I wasn’t going to hide my gender behind a pen name, for better or worse. …Women are still told that we’re being silly, and that our feelings are over-exaggerated, or just plain wrong. I say don’t listen. Stand by your convictions and don’t be afraid to go against what everyone else says. That’s how revolutions are started.”

Mary Behre, Tidewater series

“I had 42 agents turn down the first book in my award-winning series,” Behre says. They feared they wouldn’t be able to sell the book, which she’d written because “I’d always wanted to read books about ghosts that did more than creak the floorboards or move a lamp.” She went on to sell a two-book deal and sign contracts for more.

S.A. Hunter, Scary Mary series 

Hunter writes about a high school girl who hears ghosts and wishes they’d shut up. Welcomed into the community by local romance writers, the Charlottesville-based, self-published author says that “being paid and praised for my writing is still amazing to me.”

Jodi Meadows, Before She Ignites

“I think fondly of the authors whose books I read as a teen, whose books showed me that fantastic adventures weren’t just for boys, and I want to carry on that tradition.” Meadows’ latest includes dragons, politics and a girl who did the right thing and was punished for it. “Now, as someone whose books are getting bigger, it’s my job to make sure that path includes space for marginalized authors, whose voices have been silenced throughout history.”

Tina Glasneck, Dragon’s Awakening, part of the Through the Never anthology

“Representation of different colors, beliefs and backgrounds [as a few examples] matter in fiction,” Glasneck says. “I truly believe that books help people grow. Minds are changed through great storytelling. …To me, when we stop reading, we also, as a culture, stop thinking and growing.”