Larry Fessenden – 6WH

As a director and producer, Larry Fessenden has a reputation as the patron saint of indie horror, but he’s probably much better known as character actor. He’s worked with tons of indie darlings, like Kelly Reichardt and Jim Jarmusch, but also big name folks like Martin Scorsese. In the past year alone, he’s been in Killers of the Flower Moon, MaXXXine, and Brooklyn 45 (amongst others). He’s mentored lots of young horror directors, notably Ti West and Jim Mickle, and probably others I don’t even know about.

Up until this week, the only Fessenden-directed film I’d seen was Habit. Ostensibly a vampire movie, it’s actually much more of a personal drama about addiction than anything else. After having watched a few more of Fessenden’s movies, this sort of genre mashup seems to be a common theme. Most horror genre hybrids veer more towards the sci-fi horror (we’ll tackle some of that later in the 6WH) or comedic horror, but Fessenden tends to prefer mixing drama and horror. He clearly has an affection for the genre, so unlike some of the prominent “elevated horror” entries of recent years, his films never seem like they’re embarrassed by their horror trappings, even if the focus might be more on the drama side. It’s an intriguing blend, so let’s take a look at a few:

Six Weeks of Halloween: Week 3 – Larry Fessenden

Blackout – Small town artist Charlie develops a sneaking suspicion that his blackouts might not be caused by his binge drinking habit, but rather the thought that he’s actually a werewolf.

This is less of an original take on werewolves than he’s done with vampires in the aforementioned Habit, or Frankenstein in Depraved (see below), but it’s still reasonably well done. Of course, the werewolf story is set on the backdrop of a small town suffering under the thumb of a local power-hungry businessman who wants to build a resort despite potential environmental impacts (this guy is also an anti-immigration racist, despite the fact that he needs those folks to build his resort). Charlie feels strongly about the whole situation, but is mostly powerless to stop it, much like he can’t resist the full moon.

Blackout

It’s a solid production, decent acting, plenty of low-key werewolf effects. It’s a low budget affair, so don’t expect incredible transformation shots or CGI movements, but the simple makeup works well enough, and Alex Hurt has the physicality to pull it off as well. Fessenden also uses our protagonist’s paintings in quasi-animated sequences (a pretty effective way to get around budget constraints).

The small town politics of the movie are ham-fisted and the writing is a bit melodramatic, but it’s got an earnestness to it that is hard not to appreciate. It’s not his best work, but it’s still interesting and it looks like he’s actually trying to set up a crossover with Depraved (mild spoiler, I guess, and I’m a little hesitant on this, but there’s precedent for the Wolf Man meeting Frankenstein after all, so why not). **1/2

Depraved – An Iraq war field surgeon with PTSD creates a living human out of body parts in his Brooklyn lab. As per usual, Fessenden loads this premise up with other themes, including ruminations on fatherhood and, of course, plenty of criticism of the pharmaceutical industry.

Depraved

Fessenden is stylistically more playful here, despite the obvious low budget. This sort of DIY aesthetic can come off cheesy at times, but once again, the movie’s earnest nature forgives a lot, and the notion that he’s playing off of James Whale’s 1931 Frankenstein (more than the book) also helps. It’s a tad too long, drags a bit in the middle, and even once the “monster” escapes and engages in some monstering, there’s some awkward clunkiness, but the ending picks up considerably and ties things together well.

David Call and Alex Breaux give solid performances as the doctor and his creation, respectively, but Joshua Leonard steals the show as a tightly wound businessman hoping to reap the rewards of a new drug that made the whole thing possible (how he’ll do this given the clearly illegal nature of the experiment is left unanswered, despite literally being brought up in the movie). It’s nice to see that someone from The Blair Witch Project has made a career for himself, but still manages to seek out interesting roles like this one.

This is a better, more original take on an old story than Blackout. It’s a bit shaggy and clumsy at times and a little overlong, but it’s got a lot of heart. **1/2

Wendigo – A family on their way to spend some time at a country farmhouse hits a deer on the road, an accident that runs afoul of the local hunters who were tracking the deer and are now upset that their prey has been taken from them. This incident kicks off a feud that eventually conjures up the spirit of a Wendigo, a mythical, voracious, shape-shifting creature from Native American folklore.

Wendigo

The usual Fessenden pattern asserts itself: this wintery horror atmosphere with some light cryptid mythology is really just a backdrop for an exploration of modern manhood. It touches on the country/city divide that drives a lot of this sort of thing, but also gives three perspectives. City slicker George (played by Jake Weber) has his manly confidence shaken by the confrontation. Boorish country bumpkin Otis is humiliated by losing his deer kill and then getting scolded by George’s wife, played by Patricia Clarkson. George’s young son, played by Erik Per Sullivan (Dewey from Malcolm in the Middle), also finds himself unsettled by the encounter, which manifests as nightmares about Otis and later, the Wendigo. It turns out that there’s more simmering underneath the surface of the conflict, with potentially tragic consequences.

This is another film shot on a shoestring budget, but which manages an effective snowy atmosphere. The more stylized dream sequences or hallucinations rely mostly on editing and quick cuts, which are less effective, but work well enough. The Wendigo doesn’t really show up until late in the movie, and even then it feels more symbolic than literal. As an allegory for the various crises of masculinity the movie is going for, the Wendigo is actually a pretty good fit though, and I think this is probably the most successful of the three Fessenden movies I watched this week. ***

An interesting filmmaker for sure, though probably not for everyone. Next up, Sci-Fi Horror (this will be, ah, a kinda loose definition of sci-fi) and maybe some Scary Movies or televised 6WH action.

Now Playing: The Substance & Azrael – 6WH

Hey, remember movie theaters? They’re great! I always try to make room for horror movies playing in theaters during the Six Weeks of Halloween, but releases are not always cooperative. What’s that? A hot director is remaking Nosferatu? Awesome, when does it come out? Christmas Day? Uh, ok. Um, what about that movie that’s, like, a slasher told from the perspective of Jason? No, that came out in April (but it is streaming on Shudder if you want to check it out).

Look, not everything has to come out around Halloween, but there are some years where the pickins are way, way too slim. Fortunately, this year is not one of them! There are actually plenty of options in the theaters right now, and I saw two of the more interesting, smaller-scale releases. One is getting a lot of play amongst the film dorks, the other is apparently way more obscure (and, admittedly, not very mainstream).

Six Weeks of Halloween: Week 2.5 – Now Playing: The Substance & Azrael

The Substance – Meet Elisabeth Sparkle! An Oscar winning actress who has aged out of big roles into a lesser, Jane Fonda-esque TV workout show. Even this more limited fame becomes jeopardized when the producer fires her, basically because she’s too old. Enter The Substance, a new, invite-only, black market cell-replicating drug that promises to temporarily create a younger, better version of herself. FDA approval is presumably pending.

A primal scream about Hollywood’s tendency to chew up youth and dehumanize aging stars (particularly among women), this movie has seemingly struck a chord with audiences. The premise is vaguely explained and a little sloppy, but thematically rich. On its surface, it’s actually quite blunt and not very insightful, but if you dig deeper, there’s lots to explore around addiction and self-destructive hedonism and empowerment. The things we think we want are slowly destroying us.

Demi Moore in The Substance

The casting of Demi Moore is perfectly suited to this story. As someone who built a career on her radiant beauty and became an A-list star, but who has seen diminishing opportunity as she aged, Moore basically is this character and her self-aware performance is fantastic. It’s the sort of role that people will call “brave,” which normally just translates to the fact that it requires a lot of nudity, but here involves a level self-reflection that must have been uncomfortable. Margaret Qualley might not be the obvious choice for the younger, better version of Moore, but also does exceptional work (apparently with the aid of some prosthetics). I think both would be deserving of awards season consideration… but I can’t imagine Academy Awards voters really connecting with the more lurid body horror elements of this story (more on this in a bit).

Margaret Qualley in The Substance

Dennis Quaid shows up in a small role as your typical scummy Hollywood producer (his character’s name is Harvey, providing a useful shorthand for those who don’t immediately get it). It’s a big, unsubtle performance (also brave, in its own way) that is accentuated by garish wardrobe choices and even filmmaking choices like fisheye lenses and foley work. A scene in which Quaid’s character eats shrimp is emphasized so dramatically by the closeups and sound design that it might single-handedly set off an epidemic of misophonia. Seriously, this film has lots of gross-out body horror sequences, but this particular scene is so viscerally disgusting that it more than stands up to the effects-heavy gore later in the film (which, to be sure, also features alarmingly well done sound design and makeup.)

Director Coralie Fargeat is building on her work in Revenge here in an interesting way. Both films benefit from her feminine perspective in a way that would probably not be possible with a male director. I suspect the way the camera lingers on Moore and Qualley’s bodies would draw very different responses if they came from male director. This movie might drive the Gen-Z anti-sex scolds a little crazy, but there’s lots of thought-provoking depth in this film if you’re willing to confront it.

Much has been made of this movie’s Body Horror (that gnarly sub-genre that explores the grotesque violations and general frailty of the human body), and as the side effects of misusing the titular Substance become clear and escalate throughout the film, we are treated to some truly nauseating gore. This is clearly not a movie for the faint of heart, as there are several virtuosic sequences that are genuinely unnerving and gross. Near as I can tell, they leaned heavily into practical effects and makeup here, rather than excessive CGI, and that just provides a sorta texture that makes the whole experience even more disconcerting. It’s important to note that these sequences aren’t entirely gratuitous either; they are used to emphasize the results of our protagonist’s addiction to youthful fame and the self-destructive consequences of desperately trying to cling to it by any means necessary (alright, maybe a little gratuitous, but still, there’s a point to it).

As a general rule, you can’t really talk about Body Horror in film without mentioning David Cronenberg, and his influence is definitely felt here, but I was also reminded of Brian Yuzna’s particular brand of Body Horror (notably in the film Society) and Frank Henenlotter might also be worth thinking about. Indeed, this film seems filled with tributes and homages, without actually feeling too derivative of any one source or too on-the-nose about it. Even influences as far afield as The Picture of Dorian Gray, Requiem for a Dream, and Nothing But Trouble get some love.

The intensity of the body horror can get a bit overwhelming, especially for a movie that is this long. There are some pacing issues, and Fargeat was seemingly terrified that people wouldn’t get the connections she was trying to make, and so she adds all sorts of flashbacks to scenes that just happened ten minutes ago. I get the impulse to do this sort of thing because, as mentioned earlier, the actual rules about how the Substance works and what is actually happening are a little cryptic (despite the Jony Ive-style concise packaging design for the Substance kits), but on the other hand, this is clearly going for a sorta demented fairy-tale vibe that doesn’t actually need every detail spelled out (to be sure, my dumb engineer’s brain has tons of questions about how this stuff works, what the relationship actually is between the doubles, and so on, but I’m able to go with it because the movie offers lots of other things.) As a result of this approach, some of the payoffs are undercut by repetitiveness, and it messes with the pacing. Paradoxically, some of what this movie so desperately wants to say (to scream) gets muddled as well. There’s probably a tighter, 100-120 minute version of this that would not feel as bloated.

That being said, it’s hard to fault a movie for being this ambitious and still largely successful at evoking a thoughtful response. I honestly didn’t think this review would grow to the length that it has (and I could probably make it even longer), which I think says something important. Indeed, I suspect a lot of the most interesting things about this movie are the ideas we bring to it ourselves, not so much the thuddingly obvious ideas it clearly wants to bash us in the face with. It’s one of those movies where the criticisms probably say more about the critic than the movie itself (I’m too tired to re-edit this post with this in mind, please be kind to me). There are plenty of quibbles to be had, but I was quite happy to see something this deranged in a theater with a bunch of people (the last half hour or so, in particular, are great to watch with a crowd of stunned onlookers). ***

Azrael – Many years after the Rapture, a young woman named Azrael is being hunted by a group of devout believers who want to sacrifice her in order to pacify an ancient evil that lives in the surrounding wilderness.

At least, I think that’s what’s happening. Due to whatever weird perversion of religion is happening in this post-Rapture world, the grand majority of characters have been surgically muted (in order to “renounce the sin of speech” as the film’s textual prologue informs us), so there is basically no dialogue here. Everything we learn about what is going on is done visually. This makes for a somewhat thin story of survival, but it’s at least action packed and visceral. With a runtime of 86 minutes, it never really wears out its welcome and it ends on a high note, with a diabolical and perfectly composed shot.

Samara Weaving in Azrael

Samara Weaving plays Azrael and does excellent work, continuing a string of blood soaked performances that have earned her a devoted following. Due to the mute nature of the character, she’s forced to leverage her facial expressions and physicality more than you’d normally expect, and she’s up to the task. Other performances are similarly calibrated, and the characters are distinct enough that you can distinguish between them. The ancient evil in the forest is mostly played as a monstrous cipher. The movie effectively communicates that they’re attracted by the smell of blood, but the mechanics of when and how they attack (and why they would spare some people and not others) are left unclear. The creature design is perfectly cromulent, basically just burned/singed, slightly out of proportion humans, decent but not memorable enough to become iconic or anything like that.

The lack of dialog is bound to turn some people off and the simplicity of the narrative coupled with a stubborn refusal to elaborate on certain oddities probably won’t help, but I was really taken with this movie. It hasn’t been getting much traction, even amongst the mutant horror sub-cultures on Twitter or Letterboxd (where something like The Substance is gaining tons of attention). It’s clearly lower budget and has less star power, not to mention no discernable marketing, which probably explains some of it, but it’s worth seeking out if you like this sort of thing. It’s simplistic and probably won’t satisfy the “elevated horror” folks in the way that The Substance would, but I thought it was great. ***

Both of these are well worth seeking out if you like out of the ordinary horror stuff (and if you have a strong stomach) and will hopefully remain in theaters for a couple more weeks. Happy hunting. In the meantime, we’ve got a few Larry Fessenden movies coming on Sunday, so stay tuned…

Dario Argento – 6WH

Italian horror has become a staple of the Six Weeks of Halloween, with at least one week dedicated to the schlocky cinema of my people. This year, we’ll take a look at three flicks from perhaps the best known Italian horror filmmaker, Dario Argento (as such, he probably doesn’t qualify as an “Obscure Horror Auteur“, another common theme of the 6WH, even if he’s not exactly a household name in America and hasn’t made a notable movie in decades.)

Born to a film producer and a photographer, Argento was always on track to work in the movies and got his start working with the likes of Bernardo Bertolucci and Sergio Leone (even going so far as to earn a Story By credit on Once Upon a Time in the West) before directing his first feature, The Bird With the Crystal Plumage (1970). While not the first Giallo, it was a massive success and it’s generally credited with kicking the sub-genre into high gear. Argento would immediately follow it up with two more Giallos in 1971, creating a sorta unofficial trilogy of unrelated movies tied together by their Animal titles. We’ve covered Argento repeatedly over the last fifteen years of the Six Weeks of Halloween, but there’s still plenty of his filmography (including some heavy hitters) that I have yet to explore, so let’s jump in:

Six Weeks of Halloween: Week 2 – Dario Argento

The Cat o’ Nine Tails – The second of Argento’s Animal trilogy went into production immediately following the success of The Bird With the Crystal Plumage and is famously one of Argento’s least favorite of his own films (I’m guessing the young director was pressured to crank this sucker out in a rush.) It’s certainly the slowest and most conventional of the three Animal films, a straightforward murder mystery produced in a mostly unflashy manner. This is disappointing coming from a director who basically embodies the concept of style-over-substance, but it’s not entirely without merit either.

The Cat o'Nine Tails

In particular, Argento develops an endearing friendship between the two leads, a blind retiree played by Karl Malden (an Oscar winner slumming it in Italy) and young hotshot journalist played James Franciscus (of One of My Wives is Missing fame*), as they investigate a mystery involving a genetics institute (including a plot point that would probably infuriate current day, gender obsessed audiences). Something just clicks when they’re onscreen together, and even the young girl who accompanies Malden most of the time is pretty great in the role. Unfortunately, they split the two leads up often, the film goes on for far, far too long, and the story is too simple to justify that length.

Argento would obviously go on to bigger and better things, even in the same year as this one, as Four Flies on Grey Velvet features more of his visual trademarks, not to mention more unconventional plot elements, and he would go on to perfect the sub-genre with Deep Red (not to mention a few other solid examples of the sub-genre, like Tenebre). That being said, there’s still an element of pulpy fun crafted by a genuine weirdo here. It might be a little slow and go on too long, but it’s still a solid, middle tier Giallo. It’s only really disappointing in light of Argento’s other work in the sub-genre (which is mostly in that top tier). **1/2

Inferno – This is Argento’s followup to his most famous movie, Suspiria, and much like Cat o’Nine Tails, he’s unable to recapture what made the preceding film so great. It’s still quite stylish and atmospheric, with a couple of bloody and ornate sequences, it just really suffers in comparison to Suspiria.

Inferno

Argento tries to recapture the visual motifs and primary colors of Suspiria, and it is indeed a visually striking movie. But without Technicolor (which really gave Suspiria a distinct appearance) it just falls a little flatter. Michael Emerson (of Emerson, Lake, & Palmer) takes over the soundtrack duties and does his best (the song Mater Tenebrarum is quite the earworm), but can’t really live up to the iconic Goblin soundtrack from Suspiria. There are several reasonably effective death sequences in the film… but none are as ornate, unique, or memorable as those in Suspiria. The story of Inferno attempts to flesh out the mythology of the Three Mothers, but this basically just amounts to several sequences of interminable and nonsensical exposition, and the film basically just ends with an unresolved whimper. A lot of folks don’t like the more conventional turn in the ending of Suspiria, but once again, I’ll take that over this nonsense any day.

It’s not the worst thing in the world and there’s plenty to like about this, but as a direct sequel, it really suffers in comparison to the first film. Argento had originally planned to do three movies, one for each of the Three Mothers, but didn’t get to the final film until 2007, which was not well received. You’re probably better off just watching Suspiria (and maybe it’s remake). **

Opera – Ah, now here’s the stuff! By 1987, Argento was moving past the conventions he had previously established while still managing to incorporate all of his calling cards (Black gloved killers! Metal soundtracks! Animals! Voyeurism! Tons of other nonsense!) without seeming repetitive or derivative. It’s probably his last great film, even if he continued to work for decades after.

Opera

There are elements of Phantom of the Opera and several other references here, but like Argento’s best work, he plays it a bit fast and loose with the plot while elevating the whole thing with stylistic excess. And boy does this movie engage in stylistic excess. The restless, prowling camera movements, unusual angles, and lavish cinematography are all leveraged to the full extent. It’s the sort of wildly creative style-over-substance that Argento is known for, and it’s all deployed with gusto.

It’s the best thing I watched all week, and it’s certainly the most memorable. He even manages to execute a perfect death scene involving a gun (usually a no-no for this sort of horror), a bravura sequence that rides the line between silly and stylish fun incredibly well. It’s the sort of virtuoso exercise that justifies trawling through a long filmography to find the gems. ***

The intervening decades have not been quite as kind to Argento. His 90s seem filled with moderately well received films, but clearly something was lost, and his more recent works are almost uniformly despised. I may have to check out one of these recent disasters, Dracula 3D, just because I’m still on a bit of a Dracula kick, but I’m not expecting much.

* – Just kidding. One of My Wives Is Missing is one of those obscure TV movies from the seventies that no one has seen, but hey, it’s available on Amazon Prime and is actually pretty fun (if a bit silly).

Draculas – 6WH

Bram Stoker created the character of Count Dracula in his 1897 novel Dracula, and perhaps owing to the novel’s swift entrance into the public domain (at least, in the USA), he has appeared in more films than any other character, fictional or otherwise, except for Sherlock Holmes (which, incidentally, includes stories with both characters.) There have been over 30 straight movie adaptations of the novel and countless ancillary appearances, not to mention inclusions in television, stage, and other literature. Just last year, we had two Dracula-adjacent flicks with major releases (more on one of them below), and we’re about to get another Nosferatu from Robert Eggers later this year (not to mention the rumored Sci-Fi Western version of Dracula from Chloé Zhao), so the character has proven quite resilient.

I actually kicked off the Six Weeks of Halloween a little early by listening to the Audible Edition Audiobook, which was fantastic (I want to say that I read this in my teen years, but honestly, a lot of this felt new, so maybe I never got too far back then), and have been going through a Dracula kick in movies as well. We’ll most likely see more of these in the inevitable 6WH Speed Round, but here are three new-to-me Dracula flicks:

Six Weeks of Halloween: Week 1.5 – Draculas

The Last Voyage of the Demeter – On paper, this movie seems like it should work like gangbusters. Based on a short (about 5 pages) but evocative and memorable excerpt from Stoker’s original novel about Dracula’s voyage from Carpathia to London where it’s implied that he murders the entire crew, it’s an interesting pressure-cooker of a premise that leaves plenty of room to fill in details (even if we sorta how it will end). The sea is dope! The cast is filled with solid character actors doing yeoman’s work. The director and crew are also known for their sturdy craftsmanship. Add this all together, and somehow, you get a bit of a slog.

The Last Voyage of the Demeter

Perhaps this is because we know where this is likely to end up, which robs some of the impact of the deaths, even the more gratuitous ones (there’s a child and dog onboard, but their fate is pretty much a foregone conclusion, despite some solid tension being developed in isolated sequences). It’s definitely a bit too long. Clocking in at nearly 2 hours, it really stagnates once you get underway, which is weird, because the characters are a little thin and underdeveloped too. The plans our heroes devise to combat the creature aren’t very clever and they’re obviously ineffective (and, well, they can’t be that successful, least the story diverge too far from the source). I guess the premise isn’t quite the slam dunk it might seem upon first glance. I’d be curious how well it would work if you cut out 20-30 minutes and then withheld the names of Dracula and maybe even the Demeter (to throw us nerds off the scent) until much later in the movie. It might make for a better film, but I’m guessing a studio would never go for that – the marketing kinda hinges on Dracula.

Speaking of whom, this is an interesting take on the classic fiend. Over the last 125 years of countless appearances in film, television, and more, Dracula has suffered from Flanderization, where a character’s initial complexity gets distilled and simplified to the point where they become almost a caricature of themselves. With Dracula, this has usually taken the form of overemphasis on his sex appeal and adding an element of gothic melodrama to his story. Often, the truly monstrous nature of the character is downplayed in favor of providing a sympathetic backstory or a romantic subtext. Take this to its logical conclusion and you wind up with the sparkly lovestruck vampires of Twilight or the horndogs of True Blood. The interesting thing about The Last Voyage of the Demeter is that it has also Flanderized Dracula, just in the opposite, more monstrous direction. It’s an approach I’d normally approve of, especially if his identity was withheld until later in the movie, but all we really see is a generic boogeyman who pops up to slaughter a crewman every few minutes. It’s still interesting and the creature design is well done, but it feels a bit off for Dracula (who has more personality and cunning than we see here)…

The other major criticism this movie has garnered is with the ending, a transparent attempt to set up a sequel in which our hero (who, spoiler alert, does manage to become the sole human survivor of the Demeter) vows to hunt down Dracula. I guess the implication is that he’ll hook up with Van Helsing and friends later down the pike, but since this character doesn’t appear in the novel, I like to think that his quest for revenge is completely fruitless and that the sequel would just be him constantly three steps behind Dracula and two steps behind Van Helsing until they all finally meet up and he sees that Drac is already dead. This movie also suffers a bit from the modern cinematographic obsession with overly dark photography. It’s far from the worst offender, and it’s clear that the director and cinematographer know what they’re doing because much of the movie looks great, but the calibration is just off on some sequences, which are far too murky and dark (particularly the opening and fog soaked ending). Ultimately, there’s lots to like about the movie, but nothing quite coheres the way it should. **

Dracula: Dead and Loving It – I suppose it was inevitable that the man who made Young Frankenstein would eventually take on the other major Universal monster, and thus we get this surprisingly bland take on Dracula. Mel Brooks is obviously a fan of those original Universal monster movies, and this is clearly patterned after Tod Browning’s 1931 adaptation of Dracula. Indeed, this movie plays mostly like a straight remake of that film, with some light jokes scattered around for good measure.

Dracula: Dead and Loving It

The problem is that the joke density is quite low, and much of what’s there doesn’t land very well. There are a few good bits though. There’s a running gag about Dracula’s shadow (a clear reference to Bram Stoker’s Dracula, which had come out only a few years earlier) that’s pretty good, and I love the splatstick bit when Harker drives the stake into Lucy’s heart. Leslie Neilson plays the titular Dracula to decent enough effect, and I like the way Peter MacNicol hams it up as Renfield. Mel Brooks himself shows up as Van Helsing, and he’s pretty good onscreen, even if his work behind the camera isn’t particularly great. I wonder if this movie would look better if it were just shot in black and white? As it is, it feels visually uninspired and flat.

I don’t know, I chuckled a few times and it’s always nice to sprinkle some comedies in with all the horror during this sort of marathon, but it’s also lethargic and largely unsuccessful. I could see it striking a chord if you saw it at a certain age, and I bet if I had seen this back when it came out, I might have a pleasant nostalgia for it today. It’s hard not to like a Dracula movie staring Leslie Neilson directed by Mel Brooks, but they gave it their best shot, and it’s nowhere near Brooks’ best work. **

Dracula (1974) – Dan Curtis (of Dark Shadows fame) directed and Richard Matheson (of I Am Legend fame) wrote this relatively straightforward adaptation of Stoker’s novel. The most notable changes here are introducing the idea that Dracula is Vlad the Impaler (implied by the novel, but not explicitly stated) and adding a romantic subplot involving Dracula and a woman who resembles his deceased wife (in this case, Lucy Westenra). Both points would become a prominent part of Coppola’s Dracula in the 1990s, which expanded the ideas further. There are lots of other changes: Jonathan Harker is killed early on and comes back as a vampire thrall during the final showdown, and several major characters are excised altogether, including Renfield, John Seward, and Quincey Morris.

Jack Palance as Dracula

Jack Palance plays the Count here, to pretty good effect. He brings a certain stoic physicality to the role, but also shows some yearning towards his long lost love that injects a bittersweet note. He’s not quite as otherworldly or memorable as Bela Lugosi, but Palance brings a peculiar cadence that is fitting for the part. Unfortunately, the cast surrounding him isn’t quite up to the task. In particular, the Van Helsing is quite lacking, but the rest of the cast can’t quite hold the line either. Visually, Curtis does what he can, and it has some nice compositions, but that can’t really make up for the rest of it. This is definitely an interesting adaptation in that it introduces some ideas that would influence future takes on Drac, but it ultimately does come down somewhere in the middle of the pack of straight Dracula adaptations… **

Again, I will most definitely be watching more Dracula and Dracula-adjacent movies during the next six weeks, but they’ll probably have to wait for the traditional Speed Round. In the meantime, stay tuned for some Dario Argento, coming on Sunday…

Six Weeks of Halloween 2024: Tod Browning’s Sideshow Shockers

In Robert Aickman’s short story “Ringing the Changes,” a surreal crowd of townfolk parade through the streets chanting:

The living and the dead dance together.
Now’s the time. Now’s the place. Now’s the weather.

When I read it a few years ago, I found it to be a fittingly macabre slogan for The Six Weeks of Halloween as a concept. As we approach Autumn, there’s a chill in the air, leaves are changing color and falling from their trees, people start breaking out their sweaters and adorning their household with all manner of mutilated gourds, decorative corpses, plastic spiders, styrofoam gravestones with cute, ironic captions, and of course, the (pumpkin) spice must flow. These and other ostensibly ghastly traditions can mean only one thing: It’s Halloween Season!

Around these parts, we celebrate that Hallowed E’en by watching a veritable plethora of horror movies (and we read some spooky books while we’re at it) for the six weeks leading up to the big day. Why six weeks? Well, it used to be two weeks better than the standard October marathons that a lot of folks do, but everyone’s been stepping up their game over the last few years, to the point where we’re just conventional at this point.

It’s traditional to start the marathon off with something that’s at least nominally respectable. Which is not to say that it won’t be schlocky fun, just that there will be some element to the theme that might hint towards something a little more classy than typical. Things like silent moviesforeign films (more foreign films), arthouse flicksclassic anthologiescelebrated studios (and other celebrated studios), and the like. This year, with the help of the fine folks over at The Criterion Collection (always a safe option for more respectable horror), we’ve lined up a trio of Tod Browning’s Sideshow Shockers.

Browning is most famous for directing the first sound film adaptation of Dracula (a Universal monster movie classic that we’ve revisited multiple times during these Six Weeks of Halloween marathons), but his notorious followup to that film was Freaks, an infamously transgressive film that we’ll talk a little more about below. Freaks also touches on topics and themes that Browning often tackled: outsiders, con artists, grifters, carnivals, sideshows, gypsies, vagabonds, and the like. All three films we’re watching this week are from that milieu, though only one is a sound film. Browning himself spent time working at a circus (as a clown) before moving on to Vaudeville and eventually Hollywood (he was a protégée of D.W. Griffith), so the man has the experience to back up his interests. Let’s dive in:

Week 1: Tod Browning’s Sideshow Shockers

Freaks – An infamously transgressive film, surely one of the strangest things ever produced by a major American studio, this film was initially a financial and critical disaster, but developed a cult following and eventual reevaluation decades later.

A beautiful but cruel trapeze artist seeks to marry a sideshow performer, but when it becomes clear that she’s been poisoning him in order to inherit his fortune, the rest of the sideshow “freaks” rise up in righteous vengeance.

Freaks

Browning famously cast real-life sideshow performers to portray the performers at the circus, which certainly lends an authenticity and verisimilitude to the proceedings. There’s always been criticism of the film’s potential to exploit its cast’s physical disabilities for amusement’s sake, but the story does everything in its power to portray an inclusive community who, shunned by mainstream society, have their own code of acceptance and inclusion. It’s telling that Browning doesn’t really show the performers onstage (i.e. for an audience’s amusement), but instead demonstrates their talents in a more understated and organic manner (i.e. a quadruple amputee lights his own cigarette using only his mouth during a conversation, and so on).

Indeed, for a film made in 1932 (a time when eugenics was nearing its peak in popularity), the film must have been shocking in its portrayal of circus freaks as actual people with real feelings, hopes, and dreams. The whole point of the film is that the more conventional people, like the trapeze artist and strongman who look down on the sideshow performers as subhuman freaks and seek to take advantage of them, are the real monsters here.

Audiences at the time didn’t really see it that way, and were revolted at the film. Early screenings were significantly longer and reportedly more gruesome than the cut that was eventually released and survives today (nearly 30 minutes of footage was cut and is thought to be lost), but the ending remains effective, perhaps even moreso because of what you do not see. To be sure, it’s not a perfect film. The narrative is simplistic and while the cast and setting are quite authentic, the performances are a bit stilted. But these flaws tend to be more endearing than anything else, and it remains an effective bit of social commentary and, remarkably odd, even today, for a major studio release. The Criterion presentation is the best the film has ever looked, and has lots of special features as well. ***1/2

The Unknown – A circus bound love triangle develops between an armless knife thrower (he uses his feet) and a strongman vying for the affections of their female assistant. One of the men is actually an infamous criminal who is hiding out in disguise, and seeks to sabotage the the other’s attempts at love. Ironic twists and machinations culminate in a tragic showdown.

The Unknown

Browning often collaborated with “the man of a thousand faces,” Lon Cheney (most famous for his turn in the silent Phantom of the Opera), and this is the most famous and celebrated of their work together. It’s easy to see why, with Cheney giving a remarkable physical performance. Even accounting for the usage of a body double for some of the footwork (Cheney plays the armless knife thrower who is remarkably dexterous with his feet and toes), it’s quite effective and really sells the character’s shocking decision later in the film. I won’t spoil the bitterly ironic, O. Henry-esque twists at the core of the story, even if you might see where it’s headed (though I must admit, I wasn’t really expecting the film to get quite so strange and lurid). Cheney doesn’t do crazy makeup or anything here, but he sells all the turmoil his character is going through with his exaggerated facial expressions, grimaces, scowls, and whatnot, sometimes managing to evoke resignation, heartbreak, and even sympathy for a fundamentally callous character.

Also of note is an early performance from a young Joan Crawford as the love interest and the rest of the supporting cast also does fine work. The plot focuses a bit more heavily on the melodrama than I usually like, and it all feels like a bit of a dry (silent) run for Freaks, but it’s worthwhile on its own as well. If you’re interested in film history, it’s neat to see how Browning evolved these settings and themes across the three movies in this set.

The Unknown

Visually, I’ve never found Browning to be quite as dynamic as the expressionistic films of the era, even though there is a clear influence at work here. Take the scene where Cheney confronts a doctor in a cathedral-like surgical suite, which is certainly a striking visual, even if it’s not as extreme as something like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (a clear influence on most horror films of the 1920s). That being said, I’ve always found Browning to have a keen eye for framing and blocking that is too often dismissed in favor of more showy techniques.

The Criterion presentation is sourced from the only two remaining nitrate prints of the film, so it actually looks the worst of the three films in this set, even if it’s probably as good as possible (to be clear, any issues here are with the poorly preserved film and not with Criterion and their digital partners) and better than most public domain silent films that you’re likely to find for free on the streaming services (and hey, I’ll certainly take that over AI upscaled slop or, like, you know, nothing – Browning’s London After Midnight was made in the same year as The Unknown, but is one of the most famous lost films of all time and I’d totally take a crappy transfer over nothing). Criterion also sourced a new piano-heavy score which pretty much conforms to what you’d expect from a silent film, but is well done, and an audio commentary that’s solid and informative. Overall, I don’t see how this could look or sound any better unless someone finds a well preserved and pristine print somewhere (which has happened!) ***

The Mystic – After decades of only being available on VHS, this is the least seen and rarest of the three movies in this set. Sourced from a 35 mm safety print (the intricacies of old timey film stock are perhaps worthy of their own post and, uh, some learning on my part, as I’m certainly no expert on this sort of thing except to say that this transfer looks pretty good for a film made in 1925) with a new score by Dean Hurley (best known for his frequent collaborations with David Lynch), it looks and sounds pretty great.

Small time Hungarian gypsy hustlers with an effective psychic act are approached by an American grifter who lures them to New York to swindle rich high-society types. Another love triangle develops here, as well as some grinchlike transformations, but the real stars of the show are the elaborate séance set-pieces. Browning takes you behind the con to see just how these things work, but the actual presentation is quite effective, even when you know how it’s being pulled off.

The Mystic

Browning was not able to get Lon Chaney for this film, and perhaps the cast of mostly unknowns is part of why the film has languished in obscurity for so long. That being said, Eileen Pringle does great work as the titular Mystic, aided by some rather spectacular costumes by famed art deco designer Romain de Tirtoff (also known as Erté). Browning and cinematographer Ira H. Morgan light her in a way that literally makes her glow on screen at times, and her performance can stand up to the scrutiny.

As mentioned above, this is a silent film with a new score by Dean Hurley, who does include sound effects in the mix (i.e. knocking on a door, the sweeping sound of a broom, cheers or laughs of a crowd, horse hooves, and so on). I’m not a silent film expert, but this is an approach I have not seen often, and it made for interesting watching (even if it was sometimes odd to hear the sound effects but not dialogue). Clocking in at a svelte 74 minutes, it’s actually the longest of the three movies here, even if it is shorter than most House of the Dragon episodes.

Once again, it does feel like we’re looking at the larval stages of what would eventually become The Unknown and then Freaks, but that’s what makes this set interesting. ***

A successful start for the 2024 Six Weeks of Halloween marathon, stay tuned for more: we’ve got some Dracula movies, a trio of Dario Argento flicks, some Larry Fessenden, a few Neo-Slashers, Flyquels, and much, much moar!

Link Dump

Just a routine clearing of the baffles before we get into Six Weeks of Halloween mode; the usual dump of interesting links from ye olde internets:

  • Mushroom learns to crawl after being given robot body – Neat! Of course, the mushroom didn’t actually learn anything and the people who wrote this article (or any of the other similar articles) should be ashamed of their clickbait lies. Scientists figured out how to read chemical and electrical energy from the mushroom and programmed a robot to move when it detected that energy. Still pretty neat, but this isn’t The Last of Us yet.
  • Should the Miami Dolphins kill 5 of their players to trigger a disaster draft to improve their roster? Very nice and normal conversation over at Reddit, but I do think it’s funny when people tease out unintended consequences from a given ruleset. Like, obviously if the Miami Dolphins as an organization murdered 5 players, they wouldn’t get away with it. But if a “crazed fan” did it?
  • Why A.I. Isn’t Going to Make Art – Typically thoughtful essay from Ted Chiang that puts generative AI in perspective. It’s got some good zingers (“… the appeal of generative-A.I. programs: they let you engage in something like plagiarism, but there’s no guilt associated with it because it’s not clear even to you that you’re copying.”), but also articulates a good case for why we should value the human element of artistic expression. Along the way, Chiang also mounts a defense of writing that is “entertaining” (as opposed to “high art”), and the underpinnings of intelligence and skill, and why we engage with writing in the first place. I’ve been thinking about this sort of stuff of late and, someday, might put something up here discussing the ins and outs of a world changed by AI…
  • I Am Eating Everything on Denny’s ‘Beetlejuice Beetlejuice’ Menu – Yet another in Matt Singer’s quest to sacrifice his health at the alter of promotional food menus (this time with special guest!)
  • The Blue Zone Distraction – Every now and again, you see a story about how the world’s oldest aged individuals tend to exist in certain geographical regions and cultures. The message is usually about diet or activity or stress, but it turns out that almost all of these geographical regions tend to have older aged populations because of poor record keeping (i.e. inadequate birth/death certificates), fraud (relatives collecting pensions for someone who’s been dead for years/decades), and other such conflations.
  • Famous Folks – The realities of famous folks’ lives sound really quite awful. People seem to feel very entitled to them in a way that is deeply disturbing.
  • Deborah Ann Woll Teaches Jon Bernthal Dungeons and Dragons – Remarkable on-the-fly introduction to D&D, she’s clearly an experienced DM and knows her stuff, and it’s funny seeing Bernthal’s eyes light up once he realizes what’s happening…
  • Making a Sandwich From Scratch Took This Man Six Months – Making a sandwich from scratch, like, truly from scratch, as in growing the wheat for the bread, raising the chicken, etc… cost $1500 and took 140 hours of labor over six months.
  • James Cameron Responds to Fans Complaining About 4K Transfers – “When people start reviewing your grain structure, they need to move out of mom’s basement and meet somebody. Right? I’m serious. I mean, are you fucking kidding me?” Sorry James, some of it looks bad (j/k, I thought they were mostly decent, even if I prefer *ahem* grain structure and whatnot). I’m still gonna snag the new Terminator 4K. Fingers crossed that they fixed the sound.
  • What happened when I made my sons and their friends go without smartphones – Seems like it was actually pretty beneficial, and only hard for the first few days.

That’s all for now, stay tuned – Halloween season is almost upon us!

Salty Sea-Dog Book Review: Horatio Hornblower

I’ve read enough novels influenced by this series, particularly ones billed as “Horatio Hornblower in Spaaaace”, that I figured I should at least give the first book a shot. Beat to Quarters (aka The Happy Return – a rare instance of the original British title being worse than the American one) was C.S. Forester’s introduction to the character and the first novel published, but as he fleshed out the series, he delved backwards into Hornblower’s history as well, such that this is actually the sixth novel in terms of the series internal chronology.

Book cover for The Happy Return aka Beat to Quarters

The novel opens with Captain Hornblower being ordered by British Admiralty to South America in order to form an alliance with rebels (led by a madman who fancies himself as a god) against the Spanish colonial government. Along the way, he encounters a larger Spanish warship, is obliged to take on Lady Barbara Wellesley (the sister of the Duke of Wellington) as a distracting passenger, and must deal with the shifting allegiances of the Spanish government.

Forester was clearly an influence on other writers operating in a similar milieu. When it comes to my little Salty Sea-Dog project, Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey-Maturin series was clearly seen as an heir to Forester’s Hornblower series, has many similarities, and as such, makes for a good point of comparison. Which is to say, Forester’s approach is significantly better than O’Brian’s.

Superficially, these books are quite similar. British naval tales set during the Napoleonic Wars with elements of restrained British romance sprinkled throughout, I must say that Forester’s take on this demonstrates a much better sense of storytelling and page turning ability. O’Brian’s books are quite episodic in nature, and Forester also has a bit of this, but does so in a much more fluid manner, with one episode leading to the next, building in tension and scope as we go along, eventually reaching a suitable climax. O’Brian’s tales felt perfunctory and anticlimactic to me, while Forester provides a better sense of pacing and escalation of stakes.

Forester clearly knows his seafaring stuff, but does not feel obligated to overburden the story with jargon in the way that O’Brian tends to do. His prose is direct and clear, and while the whole affair retains a typically British stiff upper lip, the characters are relatable and their travails lively. Despite what I’ve always thought of as a silly name, Horatio Hornblower himself is a bit gruff in this first entry in the series, but he softens a bit as you get into his head and see why he makes the decisions that he does (even as he’s filled with self-doubt, something I typically don’t love in a story like this, he’s ultimately quite competent and decisive). He’s certainly faced with a series of difficult dilemmas throughout, and there is one big sequence of naval warfare that is extremely well executed (again, Forester balances the technical aspects of the battle with a page-turning, character-based approach that flows more readily than O’Brian’s jargon-heavy exposition).

I’m definitely interested in continuing the series, always a good sign, and indeed, I might even revisit some of the aforementioned SF renditions of this sort of thing. I’ve already read all the Vorkosigan books, but I might have to check out more of the Honor Harrington series (or watch some Star Trek or pick up another book series, there are a lot of options…) There’s also a decently regarded 1951 film adaptation of this first novel, under the title Captain Horatio Hornblower, starring Gregory Peck and directed by the fittingly eyepatched Raoul Walsh that I shall have to check out at some point (apparently there was a TV series as well, but that does not appear to be widely available).

So ends my Salty Sea-Dog Era of reading, though it will live on as I make my way through more of the Horatio Hornblower books (I already have the next one sitting on the shelf, so this is not an idle threat). Altogether a worthy exercise, and it’s funny, I just picked up a collection of Edgar Allen Poe stories to kick off my Six Weeks of Halloween reading and the first story is, fittingly, a salty sea-dog story. So perhaps there are more salty sea-dogs in my future than I originally thought.

Salty Sea-Dog Book Review: Moby-Dick

A few months ago, I embarked upon my Salty Sea-Dog Era of reading, have been reviewing the progress thus far, and so we come to Moby-Dick. Herman Melville’s sublime, layered exploration of obsession and vengeance may be the most famous American novel ever written, and as such, the prospect of reviewing something people have themselves been obsessing about for well over a century is somewhat daunting. In an early review, London publication Morning Advertiser‘s anonymous reviewer opined: “To convey an adequate idea of a book of such various merits… is impossible in the scope of a review.” There is little to be said about Moby-Dick that has not already been explored ad nauseum, but I spent a couple months reading the damn thing, so I should probably record some thoughts, if only for posterity.

Moby-Dick, illustration by Rockwell Kent from the 1930 edition

I used the words obsession and vengeance above as a shorthand for the themes of Moby-Dick, and indeed, they are quite prominently featured in the text, but the thing about Moby-Dick is that it’s notoriously difficult to pin down. Like the sea that Melville aptly describes throughout the novel, there are numerous thematic undercurrents and tidal forces at work underneath the surface levels of the novel.

The Pequod from Moby-Dick, illustration by Rockwell Kent from the 1930 edition

Take obsession, one of the more obvious and famous themes of the book, usually attributed to captain Ahab’s mad quest for revenge on the white whale that took his leg on a previous voyage. It’s certainly presented early on, but quickly takes a back seat to another form of obsession; that of Melville’s interest in whales and whaling. We’re frequently presented with an almost non-fictional survey of knowledge about whales, ranging from an analysis of historical artwork used to depict whales, to a catalog of mythological references to whales (including from Greek, Roman, Hebrew, and Hindu literature, with obvious focus on the story of Jonah), to various culinary considerations (including this bit of irony in Chapter 65: “Stubb, he eats the whale by its own light, does he? and that is adding insult to injury, is it?”), to biological taxonomies of whales, to countless other digressions on the art of whale hunting. Only a man in the grip of obsession could compile and write such a thing.

Moby-Dick, illustration by Rockwell Kent from the 1930 edition

So it goes with other various themes. Ahab’s fruitless thirst for vengeance is infamous, but while it is brought up early on, it only becomes truly prominent during the final sequence of the novel. Melville, though, is clearly concerned with epistemology and perception; with the difficulty of observation and knowledge. This is demonstrated through his aforementioned digressions on non-fictional topics, many of which may seem a bit quaint to modern audiences. We’ve grown up with exquisite underwater photography of all manner of sea life, not just whales and sharks, so it’s easy to underestimate how difficult it was to piece this sort of thing together in 1851, when Melville was talking about old paintings as the primary source of what a whale looks like. Also interesting are Melville’s love of seafaring, defense of whaling, and justifications of its excess. Whole chapters are devoted to such, and surely caused an escalation in the hot take industrial complex of its day. I could spend years cataloguing the themes of Moby-Dick, probing and teasing out theories on religion, race, philosophy, and the like (this sort of inspired study in its readers being, in itself, yet another layer of the theme of obsession).

As you might gather from the above, this is not exactly an easy-going read. The overarching story itself is quite simple, but the language and style are complex and frustratingly beautiful at times. There’s an almost poetic, dreamlike quality to the whole affair that is difficult to pin down, and can lend itself to an trance-like reading state. You read a page or two, realize that you have no idea what’s going on, but then when you go back and reread the page, you find that you’ve absorbed it in some ways, but not in others. It’s a very odd and challenging read in that way, and I must admit that I’m sure some of this went over my head.

Moby-Dick, illustration by Rockwell Kent from the 1930 edition

Another stray thought about the numerous digressions in this book: I don’t want to hear anyone complain about Science Fiction’s propensity towards info-dumps ever again. Sure, most SF writers don’t have the facility with language and stylistic prose that Melville does, but if this book can spend hundreds of pages going off on non-fictional tangents and yet still be one of the canonical candidates for Great American Novel, so can Science Fiction. If Nostromo represents literary fiction’s propensity towards worldbuilding (a la high-fantasy epics like Lord of the Rings), then Moby-Dick represents literary fiction’s propensity towards info-dumps and tangents (a la science fiction epics like Dune or Neal Stephenson’s entire bibliography).

One final note on editions. As a book in the public domain, Moby-Dick is available in numerous different editions, including plenty of free digital copies. I looked around and settled on the Third Norton Critical Edition, mostly because it contains a huge amount of supplementary material. And the material is great! Like Melville’s obsessive study of all things whaling, people have been hunting down supplementary materials like Melville’s correspondence, biographical material, and even old reviews from nearly forgotten publications. New material is still being discovered to this day (or, at least, until 2018, when this edition was published), and while my “obsession” with has not reached the fervor with which those who compiled this information have, I did sample some of it, and it’s quite interesting. That being said, this book is almost certainly not the greatest. In particular, the paper it’s printed on is way too thin, making it difficult to handle and more importantly, some of the ink bleeds through to the other side, making it difficult to read. As already mentioned, there are countless other editions that are invariably cheaper than this one, so if you are going to read Moby-Dick, I suggest maybe seeking them out. If you become obsessed and want an exhaustive resource of supplementary material, then maybe jump on that Norton edition.

Salty Sea-Dog Book Review: Treasure Island & Moar

A few months ago, I embarked upon my Salty Sea-Dog Era of reading and now we review progress. I’ve already covered Joseph Conrad’s Nostromo at a level of detail that I probably won’t reach in this post, but I will be covering several books, so there is that. Let’s get to it:


Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson – There are books that are archetypal to certain genres or sub-genres. Books with outsized influence on all that come after it. They may not be the first to cover a certain topic, but they are always in the conversation whenever someone tackles the subject. Such is the case for Treasure Island and Pirate adventure stories.

Illustration from Treasure Island

All the tropes we know and love are here: treasure maps where X marks the spot, peg legs, eye patches, and parrots on shoulders as standard pirate accessories, the “black spot” as a death sentence that pirates hand out to traitors, copious amounts of rum, mutiny, lovable rogues, euphemisms for pirating (namely “gentlemen of fortune”), shipwrecks, marooned survivors, and oodles of nautical slang (“Shiver my timbers!”). Heck, even the title “Treasure Island” is a trope.

The novel is shorter and more accessible than I thought it would be, a sorta 19th century YA novel complete with plucky teen protagonist Jim Hawkins who undergoes a bit of a coming of age through the whole ordeal. And it is quite an ordeal, most of the crew dying once the treachery begins, and Hawkins finds himself in real danger often. Stevenson’s prose is mostly straightforward, occasionally veering into a sort of baroque patois for the pirates, but there are plenty of classic lines that originate right here and it all comes together in a thrilling way. It’s hard to hear Long John Silver intoning “Them that die’ll be the lucky ones.” before battle and not get worked up, is what I mean. It’s a book I probably should have read 30 years ago, but it still plays pretty well even now.


Master and Commander and Post Captain by Patrick O’Brian – The first two entries of the 20-novel Aubrey-Maturin series, set mostly in the era of the Napoleonic Wars. The series centers on the (sometimes contentious) friendship between Captain Jack Aubrey of the Royal Navy and his ship’s surgeon Stephen Maturin, a physician, natural philosopher, and intelligence agent.

I can see why the series has gained such popularity, but I must admit to being a bit underwhelmed by a few factors that just rarely play well for me. For instance, the novels are largely episodic in nature (and I mean this within each novel – obviously a 20 book series is episodic by its very nature), meaning that the overarching story is haltingly progressed in an oddly paced way. There’s plenty of connective tissue, to be sure, but this sort of approach rarely works for me.

O’Brian’s prose is a little more imposing here than I usually care for as well. He’s obviously well versed in nautical concepts and terminology and the character of Maturin, unfamiliar with the high seas, presents a sort of audience surrogate that allows explanations for ideas we might not be familiar with. More surprising is the influence of Jane Austen on O’Brian’s writing (particularly in Post Captain). I was not expecting Austen-style social commentary, irony, and even romance in these novels, but it’s all there.

Again, the episodic nature of the stories does tend to harm the pacing, and there are several episodes that tend to undercut the overarching sense of storytelling that I usually look for in these types of books. I don’t need protagonists to be superheroes, but ending the first book with Captain Aubrey’s ship being captured by the French and subsequently released to face court martial is… not quite the rousing ending I was hoping for. I suppose I should note that I listened to these in audio-book form (I read the other books in this post in dead tree format) and that the narrator was, in some ways, excellent, but I also found myself spacing out from time to time. Obviously, these are all “me” problems, as the series has quite a following and I suspect later installments would improve upon these first two, but I must admit, I’m not particularly inclined to continue the series myself.


Stay tuned, Moby Dick and Beat to Quarters (the first Horatio Hornblower novel) are next up…

Link Dump

The usual collection of links from the depths of ye olde internets, dumped here for your enjoyment:

During the last hour of “Horizon,” a man sitting several rows behind me descended the steps in the dark theater, spilled his half-full bucket of popcorn midway down, reached to pick it up — but was interrupted when he let out an audible fart. At this point, he abandoned the bucket and hustled to the door. If only “Horizon” matched that level of compact storytelling and wit, featuring a memorable character facing challenging odds.

  • Can a TV show save your sanity? – What starts as an overview of a ridiculous Bigfoot-hunting “reality” show turns into a pretty good encapsulation of why escapism is valuable, particularly in the environment of continual outrage stoked over the past decade or so.
  • Disappearing Polymorph – There are crystal structures that won’t form anymore, even though they existed just fine in the recent past. This phenomenon is of particular concern to the pharmaceutical industry, which has “lost” drugs to polymorphism.
  • Calculus Made Easy – A textbook written in 1910 that should be required reading for students today, as they’d get the point much quicker than today’s textbooks…
  • Diagnosis made by hallucinatory voices (in particular, the “difficult case” on page 17) – Woman hears voices in her head saying things to the effect of “Don’t be afraid, we’re here to help.” Doctors put her on anti-psychotic meds and they work for a bit, but the voices come back and tell her to seek immediate treatment, giving her a specific address and telling her to get a brain scan. It turns out to be a hospital, and just to reassure her, the doctors order a brain scan. They identify a brain tumor and eventually remove the tumor. After the surgery, the voices say “We are pleased to have helped you. Goodbye.” She never hears the voices again. Several mundane explanations are proposed, but no one knows for sure what actually happened.
  • Reliable Sources: How Wikipedia Admin David Gerard Launders His Grudges Into the Public Record – It’s interesting how much influence you can gain in internet institutions simply by showing up… granted, you have to do so consistently for, like, decades, but still. Anyway, Wikipedia remains pretty useful as a starting place, even if this guy seems a bit goofy (and his influence is limited to certain specific areas).
  • Captain Tony Soprano – Perfect
  • Dave’s Pickle Warehouse – Yes
  • I Will Fucking Piledrive You If You Mention AI Again – This data scientist has absolutely had it with all the AI talk of late.

That’s all for now…