Twice Told Tales (1963): A Lackluster Journey Through Hawthorne’s Stories

25 Thursday Jul 2024

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In the realm of classic horror anthologies, Twice Told Tales (1963) is a film that unfortunately doesn’t quite hit the mark. Directed by Sidney Salkow, this adaptation of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s stories stars Vincent Price, a legend in the horror genre. While the premise of bringing Hawthorne’s eerie tales to life is promising, the execution leaves much to be desired.

The film comprises three segments: “Dr. Heidegger’s Experiment,” “Rappaccini’s Daughter,” and “The House of the Seven Gables.” Each story is meant to delve into the supernatural and explore themes of obsession, betrayal, and dark secrets. However, despite the intriguing source material, the film struggles to maintain a compelling narrative throughout its runtime.

One of the most noticeable issues is the pacing. Each segment drags on longer than necessary, diminishing the suspense and tension that should be building. Instead of gripping the audience, the stories meander, making it difficult to stay engaged. The dialogue, while attempting to stay true to Hawthorne’s style, often comes across as stilted and overly melodramatic, further pulling viewers out of the experience.

Vincent Price, usually a commanding presence, seems somewhat underutilized in this film. His performances, while competent, lack the flair and intensity that he is known for. The supporting cast, including Sebastian Cabot and Beverly Garland, do their best with the material, but their efforts are hampered by the film’s overall lack of energy and direction.

Visually, Twice Told Tales fails to create the atmospheric dread one might expect from Hawthorne’s works. The sets and special effects are modest at best, often appearing more like stage props than elements of a haunting narrative. This, combined with uninspired cinematography, results in a film that looks dated even by the standards of the early 60s.

The thematic depth of Hawthorne’s stories, which delve into the complexities of human nature and moral dilemmas, is largely lost in translation. The film opts for a more straightforward horror approach, stripping away much of the nuance that makes the original tales so compelling. As a result, what could have been a thought-provoking anthology feels more like a series of missed opportunities.

In conclusion, Twice Told Tales (1963) is a film that falls short of its potential. Despite the presence of Vincent Price and the rich source material, the movie is hampered by poor pacing, lackluster visuals, and an overall sense of mediocrity. While it may hold some nostalgic value for fans of classic horror, it ultimately serves as a reminder that not all literary adaptations can capture the magic of their written counterparts.

  • Saul Muerte

The Whip and the Body (1963): A Sumptuous Visual Feast from Mario Bava

21 Sunday Jul 2024

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Mario Bava’s The Whip and the Body (1963) is a gothic horror masterpiece that exemplifies the director’s unparalleled visual style and meticulous attention to cinematographic detail. This film, a haunting tale of forbidden love and supernatural vengeance, is elevated by Bava’s ability to create a richly atmospheric and visually sumptuous experience, earning it a well-deserved four-star rating.

From the opening frames of The Whip and the Body, Bava’s command of visual storytelling is evident. The film is bathed in a palette of deep, evocative colors, with Bava’s signature use of vibrant reds, blues, and purples creating an otherworldly ambiance. This deliberate color scheme enhances the film’s gothic tone, enveloping the audience in a world where every shadow and flicker of light contributes to the sense of impending doom.

The cinematography, handled by Ubaldo Terzano under Bava’s close supervision, is nothing short of breathtaking. Each shot is composed with an artist’s eye, with careful attention paid to lighting, framing, and camera movement. The interiors of the castle, where much of the film takes place, are rendered in exquisite detail, with the play of light and shadow creating a sense of depth and texture that heightens the film’s eerie atmosphere.

Bava’s ability to create a mood of sustained tension and unease is on full display in The Whip and the Body. The film’s setting—a crumbling, seaside castle—becomes a character in its own right, its dark corridors and candlelit chambers providing the perfect backdrop for the unfolding drama. Bava’s use of mise-en-scène is masterful, with every element within the frame contributing to the overall sense of dread and foreboding.

One of the standout aspects of the film is Bava’s use of close-ups and extreme close-ups to convey the characters’ psychological states. The camera lingers on faces, capturing the subtleties of fear, desire, and madness. This technique not only draws the audience deeper into the characters’ experiences but also heightens the film’s emotional impact.

The film’s sumptuous appeal extends beyond its visual style to its production design and costume work. The opulent costumes, particularly those worn by Daliah Lavi’s character Nevenka, are richly detailed and contribute to the film’s period authenticity. The lavish interiors of the castle, with their ornate furnishings and décor, further enhance the film’s visual splendor.

The Whip and the Body also benefits from a haunting musical score by Carlo Rustichelli, whose compositions underscore the film’s gothic themes and heighten its emotional intensity. The music, combined with Bava’s visual flourishes, creates a cohesive and immersive experience that lingers in the mind long after the credits roll.

The Prognosis:

In The Whip and the Body, Mario Bava delivers a film that is as visually stunning as it is haunting. His meticulous attention to detail, combined with his innovative use of color and light, results in a cinematic experience that is both sumptuous and unsettling. The film stands as a testament to Bava’s genius as a visual storyteller and his ability to craft atmospheres that are rich in texture and emotion.

While The Whip and the Body may not be as widely recognized as some of Bava’s other works, it remains a shining example of his mastery of the horror genre and his unique visual style. For fans of gothic horror and aficionados of classic cinema, this film is a must-see, offering a visual feast that showcases Bava’s unparalleled artistry.

  • Saul Muerte

Movie review: Longlegs (2024)

20 Saturday Jul 2024

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There are some directors in the horror genre who make their mark with bold, fantastical statements. While their voices are initially impactful, by the third or fourth outing, their energy may begin to wane. However, Osgood Perkins, the director and writer of Longlegs, is playing the long game. Known for his meticulously slow pacing, strong leanings into paranormal and occult storytelling, and rich visual imagery, Perkins has been crafting a unique style that promises a lengthy and delightfully intriguing career.

His first two features, The Blackcoat’s Daughter and I Am The Pretty Thing That Lives in the House, were meticulously detailed, focusing on themes of isolation and desperation. His third feature, Gretel & Hansel, offered an offbeat twist on the classic fairytale with a focus on the feminine side of the story. While it may have strayed slightly from his usual tone, it still showcased incredible pacing and cinematography.

Longlegs may be his finest hour yet. It blends notable elements from thriller classics like Silence of the Lambs and David Fincher’s films, combined with the Lynchian vibe that permeates Perkins’ work. From its opening scenes, Longlegs sets a gripping pace and tone with a shocking opener and remarkable sound design that hooks you and never lets go.

Maika Monroe (It Follows) delivers a powerful performance as Lee Harker, an FBI agent with an uncanny knack for instinctively tuning into her environment. This trait quickly gets her noticed and involved in a curious investigation of a serial killer who leaves cryptic notes at his crime scenes. Harker’s birdlike mannerisms and quirky social awkwardness unfold as the inquiry unearths more than she anticipated, despite her possible psychic intuition.

And then there’s Nicolas Cage’s wondrous transformation as the titular Longlegs. The cinematography teases us with glimpses of his face, luring us deeper into the mythology that surrounds him.

The Prognosis:

Visually stunning and meticulously crafted, Perkins delivers yet another slow-burn feature that ensnares you. While the middle act may wane slightly, threatening to loosen its grip on the viewer, the final act pulls the trigger and leaves you reeling. Perkins’ style may not be for everyone, but Longlegs is the closest he has come to his best directorial stance. The journey he takes us on is always gripping, and the performances are phenomenally bright. May he continue to shine with the steady hand he has demonstrated so far.

  • Saul Muerte

Longlegs is currently screening at cinemas nationwide.

“The Haunted Palace (1963): A Gothic Fusion of Poe and Lovecraft with Price and Chaney”

20 Saturday Jul 2024

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The Haunted Palace (1963), directed by Roger Corman and starring Vincent Price, is one of the eight collaborations inspired by the works of Edgar Allan Poe. While the film has its moments of atmospheric dread and solid performances, it doesn’t quite reach the heights of some of the duo’s more celebrated works. Nonetheless, it remains a noteworthy entry in the Corman-Price-Poe canon, primarily due to its cast and the unique blend of Poe’s and H.P. Lovecraft’s influences.

Roger Corman and Vincent Price teamed up to create a series of films loosely based on the works of Edgar Allan Poe, and The Haunted Palace stands out as an interesting deviation from the formula. While the title and promotional material suggest a Poe adaptation, the film is actually based on H.P. Lovecraft’s novella The Case of Charles Dexter Ward. This blending of Poe’s gothic sensibilities with Lovecraft’s cosmic horror provides a unique, though somewhat uneven, narrative experience.

Corman’s direction, as always, is efficient and atmospheric, making the most of the limited budget. The film’s set design and use of color contribute to its eerie ambiance, creating a suitably oppressive atmosphere. However, the film’s pacing occasionally falters, with moments of tension undercut by slower, less engaging scenes.

Vincent Price delivers a dual performance as Charles Dexter Ward and his malevolent ancestor, Joseph Curwen. Price’s portrayal of Curwen is particularly compelling, showcasing his ability to embody both charm and menace. His performance is the film’s anchor, providing a sense of continuity and gravitas even when the narrative wavers.

The inclusion of Lon Chaney Jr. adds another layer of interest to the film. Chaney, known for his significant contributions to horror cinema, brings a sense of gravitas to his role as Simon Orne, Curwen’s loyal servant. His presence serves as a reminder of the film’s roots in classic horror, bridging the gap between the golden age of monster movies and the more psychological horror that Corman and Price were known for.

The Haunted Palace excels in creating a visually rich and atmospheric experience. The gothic sets, combined with the moody cinematography, evoke a sense of dread that is characteristic of Corman’s best work. The film’s exploration of themes like ancestral guilt and the supernatural aligns well with Poe’s literary legacy, even as it diverges into Lovecraftian territory.

However, the film’s narrative structure is less successful. The fusion of Poe and Lovecraft results in a story that sometimes feels disjointed, struggling to balance the psychological horror of Poe with the cosmic terror of Lovecraft. This inconsistency can be jarring, preventing the film from achieving the same level of cohesion seen in other Corman-Price collaborations like The Masque of the Red Death or The Pit and the Pendulum.

Additionally, while Price’s performance is strong, some of the supporting characters lack depth and development, making it difficult for the audience to fully invest in their plights. The film’s slower moments detract from the overall tension, leading to a pacing that feels uneven.

The Prognosis:

The Haunted Palace may not be the strongest entry in the Corman-Price-Poe series, but it remains a film of interest for fans of classic horror. Its atmospheric visuals, strong performances from Vincent Price and Lon Chaney Jr., and the intriguing blend of Poe and Lovecraft make it a unique, if flawed, addition to the genre.

In retrospect, The Haunted Palace stands as a testament to the creative risks taken by Corman and Price, as well as their ability to craft memorable horror experiences even when the material isn’t at its strongest. While it may not reach the heights of their best work, it remains a fascinating piece of horror history, worthy of appreciation for its ambition and atmospheric strengths.

  • Saul Muerte

“The Haunting (1963): A Masterclass in Atmospheric Horror and Psychological Depth”

19 Friday Jul 2024

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Robert Wise’s The Haunting (1963) stands as one of the most prominent and influential ghost stories in cinema history. Adapted from Shirley Jackson’s acclaimed novel, The Haunting of Hill House, the film masterfully translates Jackson’s atmospheric terror and psychological depth onto the screen, leaving an indelible mark on the genre and inspiring generations of filmmakers.

The Haunting distinguishes itself through its meticulous craftsmanship and unwavering dedication to psychological horror. Rather than relying on visual effects or overt scares, Wise focuses on creating an oppressive atmosphere that seeps into every frame. This approach allows the film to build a sense of dread that lingers long after the credits roll.

Central to the film’s success is its exploration of fear and the unknown. Hill House itself becomes a character, its eerie presence amplified by the cinematography and sound design. The house’s labyrinthine corridors, unsettling angles, and oppressive architecture evoke a sense of claustrophobia and unease, making the viewer feel as trapped as the characters.

Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House is a cornerstone of horror literature, renowned for its exploration of fear, sanity, and the supernatural. Jackson’s novel delves into the psychological torment of its characters, using the haunted house as a metaphor for their inner demons. This thematic richness translates beautifully to Wise’s film, which retains the novel’s ambiguity and psychological complexity.

The novel’s impact extends beyond Wise’s adaptation. In 2018, Mike Flanagan reimagined Jackson’s story with his Netflix series, The Haunting of Hill House. Flanagan’s interpretation pays homage to Jackson’s themes while expanding the narrative to explore generational trauma and the lasting effects of grief. His series brought Jackson’s story to a new audience, demonstrating the timeless appeal and enduring relevance of her work.

Robert Wise, already an established director by the time he helmed The Haunting, brought his keen eye for detail and narrative pacing to the project. His direction is both subtle and commanding, guiding the audience through the psychological maze of Hill House without ever revealing too much.

The film’s cinematography, by Davis Boulton, is particularly noteworthy. Boulton employs a range of techniques, from wide-angle lenses that distort perspective to carefully orchestrated tracking shots that heighten the sense of unease. The stark black-and-white imagery enhances the gothic atmosphere, creating a visual style that is both haunting and beautiful.

The sound design and musical score, too, play crucial roles in building tension. Wise’s decision to use minimal music, relying instead on the creaks and groans of the house, amplifies the sense of isolation and foreboding. The few musical cues that do appear are subtle yet effective, underscoring key moments without overwhelming the narrative.

The Haunting has left a lasting legacy, influencing countless films and filmmakers. Its emphasis on atmosphere and psychological horror can be seen in works such as The Others (2001) and The Babadook (2014), both of which prioritize mood and character over explicit scares. The film’s approach to the haunted house trope has become a template for the genre, demonstrating that true horror lies in what is unseen and unknown.

The Prognosis:

The Haunting (1963) remains a pinnacle of ghost story cinema, thanks to the masterful direction of Robert Wise, the atmospheric cinematography of Davis Boulton, and the enduring influence of Shirley Jackson’s novel. The film’s psychological depth and haunting visuals continue to captivate audiences, proving that the most terrifying horrors are those that dwell within the mind. As we reflect on its legacy, The Haunting stands as a testament to the power of subtle, sophisticated horror and its ability to leave a lasting impact on the genre.

  • Saul Muerte

Movie review: Birdeater (2024)

19 Friday Jul 2024

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To liken this movie to Talk To Me, as I’ve noticed in certain publications, is like comparing apples with oranges. Talk To Me deserves the praise it received for the manner in which it delved into the pursuit of lost youth, grief and desperation with a particular bent that tapped into the popular zeitgeist. Birdeater is a far different entity and the comparisons purely rest on the creators all being from Australia. Now I’m going to champion the dark heart of the Australian horror genre but let’s not paint them with the same brush when accolades and praise should be placed where it deserves. Now does Birdeater deserve its own positive praise from the festival circuits, such as SXSW Austin, Melbourne International Film Festival and CinefestOz, plus receiving the Audience Award for Best Australian Narrative Feature at Sydney Film Festival? Happily, yes.

Directed by the duo of Jim Weir and Jack Clark, it attempts to place the toxic masculinity that resides beneath the surface of Australian society firmly under scrutiny as they slowly turn the screw with unsettling and shocking results.

I’ve lived in this land of this savage-yet-loveable land for over 20 years now and while the so-called motherland from which I originally hailed has its own fair share of troubles and tribulations, it struck me how the Australian nation had a deeply embedded masculine identity at its core and this is the vein that the filmmakers have tapped into, exposing the fevered flow that pulsates through us all, waiting to be exposed.

As the film opens we see what on face value appears to be the kindling of a romantic encounter between Louie (Mackenzie Fearnley) and Irene (Shabana Azeez), and various short scenes indicating a solidified bond, but as the time passes we see that the cracks are starting to show with Irene housebound, dependent on Louie’s partnership. But what is truly hindering her and how genuine is Louie’s heart? The feature allows us to unearth the truth over a  bucks night, where Louie strangely asks Irene to be a part of. Is this romantic or controlling?

Accompanying them are Louie’s two best mates, Dylan (Ben Hunter), the larrikin of the group but who also hides behind the facade of bravado and humour; and Charlie (Jack Bannister), a devout Christian with pent up sexual frustration, who also brings along his partner, Grace (Clementine Anderson). Grace’s role as far as the men are concerned, is to keep Irene company, but again the plans to control or dictate proceedings will fall sour before the night is through. Also, among the retreat is Murph (Alfie Gledhill) a somewhat isolated figure from the troupe, who blends in well with the male-orientated pursuits brandishing a false hope and a pre-arranged task to carry out. And lastly is Sam (Harley Wilson), a friend of Irenes and fuel to the fire of emotions as Louie questions their motives and faithfulness.

With the players set to play their identified roles, the night has just begun, and the real identities will spring forth to reveal darker and subdued emotional privilege simmering beneath the surface.

The Prognosis:

The subject matter could easily have been overplayed, but both Weir and Clark offer a slow hand to strengthen their cause and allow the characters to sink into the mire. The revelations of the motives set by the players of the piece is masterful and with every ounce of dedication and respect by the acting troupe who portray them. The light is shone firmly on this toxic masculinity without much reprieve or solution, but once the gaze is cast, it’s hard to turn away from the core message. For that Birdeater is a topical and relevant piece that deserves your time and energy. It is another fine Australian feature that lifts above the noise and resonates with its wings, beating out a very clear and precise observation of Australia and its current culture.

  • Saul Muerte

Birdeater is currently screening at selective cinemas nationwide.

1960s Retrospective: Black Sabbath (1963)

18 Thursday Jul 2024

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Mario Bava, often hailed as the master of Italian horror, followed his groundbreaking debut Black Sunday (1960) with Black Sabbath (1963), a horror anthology that would cement his reputation as a visionary filmmaker. While Black Sunday introduced audiences to Bava’s unique blend of gothic horror and atmospheric storytelling, Black Sabbath showcased his versatility and innovative approach to the horror genre through a triptych of chilling tales.

Following the success of Black Sunday, Black Sabbath allowed Bava to experiment with narrative structure and thematic diversity. The anthology format gave him the freedom to explore different sub-genres of horror, from supernatural terror to psychological suspense. This film demonstrated Bava’s ability to craft distinct and memorable stories within a single film, each with its own mood and style.

Black Sabbath also marked a pivotal moment in Bava’s career by establishing his signature visual style, characterized by vibrant colors, dramatic lighting, and meticulous set design. This aesthetic would become a hallmark of his later works, influencing not only his own films but also the broader horror genre. Bava’s use of color and composition in Black Sabbath was particularly revolutionary, setting a new standard for visual storytelling in horror cinema.

The Pros:

  1. Diverse Storytelling: Black Sabbath consists of three distinct segments—The Drop of Water, The Telephone, and The Wurdulak. This diversity allows Bava to explore various aspects of horror, from ghostly apparitions to psychological terror and vampire folklore. Each story is self-contained, providing a rich and varied viewing experience.
  2. Pacing and Engagement: The anthology format keeps the audience engaged by offering new characters, settings, and scenarios every 30 minutes or so. This structure prevents the film from becoming monotonous and maintains a high level of suspense throughout.
  3. Showcase of Talent: The format allows actors to shine in different roles and settings. For instance, Boris Karloff, who not only narrates but also stars in The Wurdulak, delivers a memorable performance that underscores his versatility and enduring appeal.

The Cons:

  1. Inconsistent Tone: While the anthology format offers variety, it can also lead to tonal inconsistencies. Black Sabbath navigates between supernatural horror, psychological thriller, and gothic folklore, which might leave some viewers feeling disjointed.
  2. Variable Impact: Not all segments may resonate equally with the audience. For example, The Telephone, with its more contemporary and less supernatural storyline, may feel out of place compared to the other, more fantastical tales. This variability in impact can affect the overall cohesiveness of the film.
  3. Limited Character Development: The short runtime of each segment restricts character development and narrative depth. While each story is engaging, there is less time to build complex characters and intricate plots compared to a feature-length film.

The Prognosis:

Black Sabbath stands as a testament to Mario Bava’s ingenuity and his ability to push the boundaries of horror cinema. The film’s anthology format, while presenting certain challenges, allows for a diverse and engaging exploration of horror that highlights Bava’s creative range. The success of Black Sabbath helped to solidify Bava’s position as a pioneering director in the genre and paved the way for his subsequent works, including Blood and Black Lace (1964) and Kill, Baby, Kill (1966).

As we look back on Black Sabbath, it’s clear that the film’s strengths lie in its visual style, varied storytelling, and atmospheric tension. Despite some tonal inconsistencies and limited character development, Black Sabbath remains a seminal work in horror cinema, demonstrating Mario Bava’s enduring influence and his mastery of the craft.

  • Saul Muerte

Celebrating 25 Years of The Blair Witch Project: The Genius of What We Don’t See

14 Sunday Jul 2024

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As we mark the 25th anniversary of The Blair Witch Project, it’s a fitting time to reflect on what made this film a groundbreaking piece of horror cinema. Released in 1999, Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez’s found footage phenomenon redefined the genre, not through what it showed, but through the terrifying power of what it didn’t.

The true genius of The Blair Witch Project lies in its ability to immerse audiences in an intricate web of legends and backstories, masterfully crafted to blur the lines between fiction and reality. Central to this mythos is the enigmatic figure of Elly Kedward, the Blair Witch herself, a woman accused of witchcraft and banished from Blair, Maryland, in the late 18th century. Her vengeful spirit is said to haunt the Black Hills Forest, where the film’s events unfold.

The lore extends further with tales of Eileen Treacle, a young girl who drowned in 1825, and Robin Weaver, a child who went missing in 1886, both supposedly victims of the Blair Witch. The chilling accounts of Coffin Rock, where five men were found ritualistically slaughtered, and Rustin Parr, a hermit who murdered seven children under the witch’s influence, add layers of dread and intrigue to the story. These elements, meticulously detailed in the film’s supplementary materials, create a rich tapestry that fuels the viewer’s imagination and fear.

The massacre of the Burkittsville Seven, where Parr’s victims met their gruesome end, is perhaps one of the most unsettling parts of the legend. The graphic details of their fate, revealed through interviews and historical documents within the narrative, enhance the film’s realism and horror. This backstory isn’t just background noise; it’s the foundation upon which the entire atmosphere of the film is built.

The Blair Witch Project also arrived at a pivotal moment in the evolution of the internet. The filmmakers ingeniously leveraged the burgeoning online community to propagate the mythos, creating one of the first viral marketing campaigns. Websites, message boards, and mockumentaries provided “evidence” and “testimonials” that blurred the lines between reality and fiction, convincing many that the events depicted were real. This innovative use of the internet not only amplified the film’s reach but also its psychological impact, leaving audiences questioning the boundaries of reality.

Beyond the film itself, the Blair Witch universe expanded into various media, enriching the lore and keeping the legend alive. The Blair Witch Project: A Dossier provided a deeper dive into the mythology, presenting police reports, interviews, and other documents that added to the authenticity and mystery. Comic books explored new narratives and characters, while video games allowed fans to experience the horror firsthand, navigating the eerie Black Hills Forest themselves.

The genius of The Blair Witch Project is that it understands fear’s most potent form comes from within. By constructing an elaborate backstory and creating a sense of realism through minimalism and suggestion, the film leaves much to the viewer’s imagination. This approach taps into our primal fears, making the unseen and the unknown the real stars of the movie.

As we celebrate the 25th anniversary of The Blair Witch Project, we recognize its lasting impact on the horror genre and its innovative use of storytelling and marketing. The film’s legacy is a testament to the power of suggestion and the enduring allure of folklore. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most terrifying horrors are those we can’t see.

  • Saul Muerte

Podcasts:

The Blair Witch Franchise

Eduardo Sanchez interview

“The Devils Bath: A Haunting Exploration of Human Suffering and Societal Repression”

13 Saturday Jul 2024

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Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala, the Austrian filmmaking duo known for their unsettling psychological narratives, return with The Devils Bath. This film, much like their previous works Goodnight Mommy, The Field Guide to Evil, and The Lodge, delves deep into the human psyche, exploring themes of repression, oppression, and the dark underbelly of human nature. However, while The Devils Bath is a commendable effort, it falls short of the high bar set by their earlier works.

Set against the backdrop of rural Austria, The Devils Bath is inspired by Kathy Stuart’s research in Suicide by Proxy in Early Modern Germany: Crime, Sin and Salvation. The film focuses on the oppressive socio-cultural landscape, particularly highlighting issues of sex, gender, physical labor, and cultural constraints. Franz and Fiala’s return to their native roots is evident as they weave a narrative that is both a reflection and a critique of historical and contemporary societal norms.

The story follows Agnes (Anja Plaschg), a woman caught in the web of societal and self-imposed repression. Her portrayal of a character grappling with the heavy burden of expectations and the search for salvation is both poignant and harrowing. Plaschg’s performance is the film’s centerpiece, providing an honest and raw depiction of human suffering and resilience. Her portrayal is masterful, capturing the nuances of a woman on the edge, struggling to find her place in a world that seems determined to crush her spirit.

Franz and Fiala’s direction is, as always, meticulous and slow-burning. They build an atmosphere of dread and discomfort, using the rural landscape to amplify the sense of isolation and entrapment. The film’s pacing is deliberate, allowing the audience to fully immerse themselves in Agnes’s world and experience her despair and occasional moments of hope. However, this slow-paced approach may not resonate with all viewers. Some may find the film’s methodical unfolding and heavy subject matter overwhelming and difficult to engage with.

Thematically, The Devils Bath continues Franz and Fiala’s exploration of oppressive familial and societal structures, a recurring motif in their filmography. In Goodnight Mommy, they examined the fractured relationship between a mother and her sons; in The Lodge, the psychological torment within a new family dynamic; and in The Field Guide to Evil, the darker sides of folklore and tradition. The Devils Bath feels like a natural progression in their oeuvre, further exploring the ways in which individuals are shaped and often suffocated by their environments.

While The Devils Bath succeeds in many areas, it is not without its flaws. The film’s heavy reliance on thematic depth and slow pacing may alienate some viewers. The narrative, though rich in symbolism and subtext, occasionally feels weighed down by its own seriousness. There are moments when the film’s contemplative nature borders on self-indulgence, risking disengagement from its audience.

The Prognosis:

The Devils Bath is a compelling addition to Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala’s body of work. It is a film that demands patience and introspection, offering a stark and honest portrayal of human suffering and resilience. Agnes’s journey is both heartbreaking and inspiring, brought to life through Anja Plaschg’s exceptional performance. However, the film’s slow pace and heavy themes may not be to everyone’s taste, making it a divisive yet thought-provoking piece of cinema.

  • Saul Muerte

The Devil’s Bath is currently streaming on Shudder.

Maxxxine: A Stylish Nod to the 80s That Falls Short in Substance

12 Friday Jul 2024

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We’re fast approaching 20 years since director Ti West released his first feature film, The Roost. Since then, he has meticulously crafted his signature style behind the lens, primarily in the realm of horror. Notable among these features are The House of the Devil, The Innkeepers, and The Sacrament. However, arguably his latest venture with actress Mia Goth in what has become the X film series has garnered the most attention. The first of these, X, was a significant hit in 2022, with its unique spin on the slasher genre and notable nods to the 70s films that marked the industry, such as The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Just when we thought our horror appetite was satiated, West delivered another serving with Pearl, which arced back to 1918 with the titular villain, again played by Goth, and was infused with the birth of Technicolor films.

So, with the announcement that a third installment was on the horizon and would be set in the heart of the 80s—the era of big hair, big action, and high levels of glorious entertainment—needless to say, I was eager to see the finale and had highlighted this as one of the most anticipated movies of the year.

Upon watching Maxxxine, the final installment in Ti West’s trilogy, it’s evident that while the film possesses a lot of style and pays notable homage to the films of the 80s, it unfortunately falls short in substance. The era’s aesthetic is captured impeccably, from the vibrant neon lights to the pulsating synth-heavy soundtrack. The attention to detail in recreating the 80s is commendable, with West and his team clearly putting a lot of effort into making the film feel authentic to the time period.

Mia Goth once again delivers a strong performance, embodying the titular character with a raw intensity that has become a hallmark of the series. Her portrayal of Maxxxine is layered and compelling, and she brings a magnetic presence to the screen that is hard to ignore. The supporting cast also does a commendable job, with each actor fitting seamlessly into the world West has created.

However, where Maxxxine stumbles is in its narrative depth and impact. The plot feels somewhat thin, lacking the same level of intrigue and tension that made X and Pearl so engaging. While the film is packed with stylistic nods to the 80s and bursts of nostalgia, it doesn’t quite manage to weave these elements into a story that resonates on a deeper level. The themes explored in the previous films seem to be diluted here, and the emotional stakes never quite reach the heights that fans might have hoped for.

Additionally, the film’s climax, while visually impressive, doesn’t deliver the satisfying conclusion that the trilogy deserved. It feels restrained, not going as big or bold as one might expect for the final chapter of such an ambitious series. There are moments of brilliance scattered throughout, but they are often overshadowed by a sense of missed potential and unfulfilled promises.

The Prognosis:

Maxxxine‘s vibrant depiction of the 80s serves as a colorful facade, masking the deeper issues at hand—a fitting metaphor for the film itself, which dazzles with style but lacks the impactful substance beneath the surface.

  • Saul Muerte