Tag Archives: folklore

The Witching Hour: Rediscovering Ingmar Bergman’s Hour of the Wolf

05 Sunday Jan 2025

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Ingmar Bergman’s Hour of the Wolf (1968) is a haunting exploration of the human psyche, wrapped in the shroud of surrealist horror. Often overshadowed by his magnum opus, Persona (1966), this film still stands as a remarkable achievement in Bergman’s illustrious career. Infused with themes of isolation, grief, sexuality, and fractured relationships, Hour of the Wolf delves into the fragile boundaries between reality and nightmare, offering a chilling portrait of psychological unraveling.

The film centres on Johan Borg (Max von Sydow), an artist tormented by inner demons, and his wife Alma (Liv Ullmann), who bears witness to his gradual descent into madness. Set on a remote island, their isolation becomes a breeding ground for paranoia and supernatural dread. Through Johan’s journal entries, we are introduced to a cast of grotesque figures—possibly products of his imagination—whose interactions blur the lines between memory, hallucination, and folklore.

Bergman’s use of folklore-inspired horror is particularly striking. The title refers to the time just before dawn, when the most deaths and births occur, evoking an atmosphere of heightened vulnerability. Subtle allusions to vampirism and lycanthropy further deepen the film’s surreal mystique, positioning it as a psychological horror piece with universal resonance.

Visually, Hour of the Wolf is a masterclass in unsettling imagery. Sven Nykvist’s stark black-and-white cinematography amplifies the film’s oppressive mood, while Bergman’s use of dreamlike sequences and fragmented storytelling creates an otherworldly atmosphere. One standout moment is Johan’s vivid recollection of an aristocratic dinner party, where grotesque characters mock and torment him. The sequence is both absurd and terrifying, encapsulating the film’s unique blend of existential dread and surrealism.

The film’s exploration of Johan and Alma’s relationship is equally compelling. Liv Ullmann delivers a powerful performance as Alma, whose love for Johan is both her strength and her curse. Her quiet resilience contrasts with Johan’s increasing detachment, highlighting the emotional toll of living with someone consumed by inner turmoil.

At its core, Hour of the Wolf is a meditation on the destructive power of creativity and obsession. Johan’s art becomes a metaphor for his deteriorating mental state, raising questions about the price of artistic genius. The film’s unsettling climax, where Johan confronts his demons in a surreal and chaotic sequence, serves as a harrowing depiction of psychological collapse.

Bergman’s exploration of grief and repressed desires adds another layer of complexity. The spectral figures haunting Johan can be interpreted as manifestations of his guilt and unfulfilled longings, making the horror deeply personal and introspective.

The Prognosis:

While not as universally lauded as Persona, Hour of the Wolf remains a standout in Bergman’s filmography for its bold fusion of psychological drama and horror. Its surreal style, rich symbolism, and unflinching examination of the human condition make it a compelling and thought-provoking experience. Hour of the Wolf is a mesmerising journey into the darkness of the soul.

  • Saul Muerte

Onibaba: The Demon That Haunts Global Cinema

22 Thursday Aug 2024

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When Onibaba was released in 1964, it quickly carved out a place for itself in the annals of cinema history. Directed by Kaneto Shindō, this Japanese horror film transcended the boundaries of its genre, offering not only a chilling narrative but also a profound exploration of human nature and survival. Set in the war-torn landscapes of 14th-century Japan, Onibaba masterfully weaves elements of horror, eroticism, and drama, creating an atmosphere that is as suffocating as it is haunting.

One of the most remarkable aspects of Onibaba is its cultural resonance. The film draws heavily from Japanese folklore, particularly the legend of the “Onibaba,” a demon woman, which Shindō reinterprets through a lens of realism. The demon mask, central to the film’s terror, has since become iconic, symbolizing the thin veneer between human and monster. This cultural specificity did not, however, limit the film’s appeal. Instead, it enhanced its global impact, as audiences worldwide were captivated by its universal themes of fear, desire, and the struggle for survival.

Globally, Onibaba became a touchstone for filmmakers and cinephiles alike, inspiring a new wave of interest in Japanese cinema. Shindō’s innovative use of sound, with the incessant rustling of reeds and the eerie silence of the swamps, created a soundscape that added to the film’s unsettling atmosphere. This auditory experience, coupled with Kiyomi Kuroda’s stark black-and-white cinematography, influenced a generation of filmmakers, both in Japan and abroad.

The film’s raw portrayal of sexuality and the human condition was groundbreaking at the time, challenging the conventions of both Japanese and Western cinema. Onibaba blurred the lines between horror and art, pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable on screen. This boldness not only solidified its status as a classic but also opened the door for future films to explore similarly taboo subjects with nuance and sensitivity.

Despite its age, Onibaba continues to be a vital piece of cinema history. Its influence can be seen in a range of films, from the psychological horrors of The Babadook to the atmospheric dread of The Witch. Shindō’s masterpiece reminds us that true horror lies not in the supernatural but in the depths of the human soul.

The Prognosis:

With its rich cultural roots and lasting global impact, Onibaba remains a film that both haunts and inspires, earning its place as a significant work of art that transcends the boundaries of genre and geography.

  • Saul Muerte

Movie review: Mandrake (2022)

09 Wednesday Nov 2022

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The mandrake; a plant that contains hallucinogenic properties that have stemmed many a recipe for paganistic medicines and rituals. Its roots take on humanistic features and legend has it that when you dig up its roots, you can hear it scream. The person who removes it from its soil would face instant death. In some cases, when taken internally the effect could treat melancholy and mania. All of which provide inspiration for the latest movie to hit Shudder’s Exclusive and Original platform. 

Buried deep in Lynne Davison’s directorial feature debut is a tale about broken relationships, mistrust and isolation.

When probation officer, Cathy Madden (Deidrie Mullins – The Frankenstein Chronicles) is charged with rehabilitating a notorious killer ‘Bloody Mary’ back into society, she faces a community unwilling to accept. This includes Cathy’s ex and police officer Jason Reid (Paul Kennedy – House of the Dragon) who may harbour his own reasons for wariness. When two children disappear from a neighbouring farm, fears rise along with Cathy’s own suspicions. These inklings lead her down a dangerous path that may either kill her or cure her own desolation.

The prognosis:

Mandrake is folktale embedded in the heart of a modern setting, but leans heavily into its origins. The setting of Northern Ireland helps to cement this fantastical component and drive through with a realistic drama as its narrative. 

The performances lend weight to this too and the characters are solid and compelling enough to have a dynamic composure to them, swaying your own personal alignment to them. This is a testament to writer Matt Harvey’s approach to the subject.

The pace of the film does drag in places, but the payoff is a strong one that has plenty to say on the subject of emotional turmoil and whether we can really heal from the trauma that we all carry around with us.

– Saul Muerte

Mandrake will be streaming on Shudder ANZ from Thursday Nov 10th.

Movie review: Matriarch (2022)

22 Saturday Oct 2022

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Firstly Jemima Rooper deserves more recognition for her on screen performances and hopefully her upcoming role as Olivia Winfiled Foxworth in the series Flowers In The Attic: The Origin will lift her to loftier heights. Here she is ably supported by Kate Dickie (Game of Thrones, Raven’s Hollow) in a mother/daughter relationship that has turned sour across time. When these two actors combine, there is potential for strong calibre in the characters they portray.

It’s clear that Laura (Rooper) has unravelled beyond any hope of piecing things back together. Surviving on self-medication, be it alcohol or cocaine she tries to conceal the trauma band aid beneath her business-like veneer. Laura tries to connect with the outside world through a feeble attempt at a relationship but her advances are rejected as the mask slips away, revealing a darkness below. As she spirals out, Laura has an overdose but a mysterious black goo brings her back to life but for what purpose?

When she comes too, Laura believes gets a call from her estranged mother Celia (Dickie) and is compelled to return home. What she finds upon her return is something deeply entrenched in her small childhood town that oozes from British folklore and sinister occult practices.

The Prognosis:

Ben Steiner (director) tackles a paganistic tale about childhood trauma through an occult lens. 

There is plenty in the mix here from a vindictive, overbearing and narcissistic mother; an old flame; and the struggles of religion against pagan beliefs to tempt or sway the soul.

Whilst the story itself doesn’t offer anything new, both Rooper and Dickie bring weight to their roles, grounding the small town folk phenomena.

It is through their characters that the audience is pulled into the quagmire of tragic upheaval, where the mental scars run deeper than humankind can contain.

  • Saul Muerte

Matriarch is currently streaming on Disney Plus.

Movie review: The Vigil

21 Tuesday Jul 2020

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The Vigil is a tale with trauma at its heart.

Yakov, is a young male Hassid, who has lost his faith and become isolated from his sect.
When we first meet him, Yakov (Dave Davis) is socially awkward, out of his depth, and the last person you would expect to triumph over evil, should it raise its demonic head his way.
The fragility of Yakov is partly what lures you into his world, and as a viewer we become intrigued by the journey he is about to undertake.
The weight of his character is captured through Keith Thomas’ direction as he produces a slow-burn descent into Yakov’s personal hell, where he must confront his trauma head-on if he has any hope to survive through the night.
Thomas’ care and dedication to creating atmosphere is The Vigil’s masterstroke and is truly captivating, but hey… I’m a sucker for the slow burn.
Plus, it has a wealth of talent behind the films creation, from cinematographer Zach Kuperstein (The Eyes of My Mother), editor Brett W. Bachman (Mandy), and a score by Michael Yezerski (The Devil’s Candy) who combine to create a beautifully crafted film.
So, what is this ordeal that Yakov must face?

Enticed by his Rabbi, Yakov agrees to become a shomer, a Jewish practice that involves watching over a recently deceased member of the community (seriously, who would do that? Feels far to eerie to me).
Yakov takes up this charge with the promise of payment to protect the soul of the deceased by spending the night in his house, and receives a none-too-friendly welcome from the elderly widow.
What we take as a frosty reception is actually, one of warning, but Yakov doesn’t take heed, and as such gets more than he bargained for.

The Prognosis:

The ambience generates a sense of creepiness and isolation that trauma survivors must endure to overcome their ordeal.
This is a testament to the writing and direction of Keith Thomas which belies his status as a debut feature in the directors chair, and his smart enough to combine with some of the greatest artists in their field.
While the scares maybe few and far between, the atmosphere and acting sure as hell make up for it, forging an incredibly unsettling movie about survival and once again Blumhouse have backed an impressive movie as part of their production canon.

  • Saul Muerte