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The Art of Horror: 1on1 with Jay Baruchel (RANDOM ACTS OF VIOLENCE)

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It takes a lot to scare Jay Baruchel.

As a long-time fan of horror, he believes that the genre has fallen creatively stagnant as of late. So, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With Random Acts of Violence, his latest turn in the director’s chair, Baruchel (who also co-wrote the script with friend, Jesse Plemons) decided to take matters into his own hands and create the type of film he wanted to see onscreen. Though Violence does not fail to offer all the blood and gore that the title suggests, it also maintains a psychological edge that drives the narrative. Having passionately crafted the film over the last decade with friend Jesse Chabot, he could not resist the opportunity to create something unique that fought against the current trends that he has seen onscreen.

“As a fan of the genre, I find myself just rarely scared by anything that I see,” Baruchel observes. “Rare is the horror film that is a good movie and actually scares me. I just also kind of developed a bit of a personal distaste for this kind of idea of what a horror film had to be. Basically like 10 or 15 years ago, a bunch of investors realized that they could put a little money into something that would make them a bunch. Then, all of a sudden, we had this rash of self-contained genre films, which are very transparent in why they were created. For me, it’s an art form that is terribly important to me and I cannot separate my love of cinema from my love of horror movies. I think, when it’s at its best, it’s a very pure, very direct art form and it lends itself to some pretty special stuff. So, I just tried to make the movie that I wished was out there.” 

Random Acts of Violence tells the story of Todd Walkley (Jesse Williams), the creator of Slasherman, an R-rated comic book series based on a real-life serial killer. Having decided to end his wildly successful series, he ventures out onto a press tour with his publicist, Ezra (Baruchel) and his girlfriend, Kathy (Jordana Brewster) in order to promote the final issue. Along the way, they visit the town where the original Slasherman caused so much harm in the past and inadvertently awaken the same murderous beast that Todd’s story sought to idolize.

While Baruchel has a deep love of horror, he also maintains a passion for the world of comic books. (He even recently invested in Chapterhouse’s revival of classic Canadian hero, Captain Canuck.) Based on a comic of the same name, Random Acts of Violence finally gave him the opportunity to bring a comic to life onscreen himself. Given his experience in the industry, he felt like he could create a story that both celebrates the source material and brings something new to life as well.

“It really starts from there being a really interesting story and staring off viewpoint in the comic book,” Baruchel explains. “It just got stuck in Jessie’s head and in my head. At a certain point, the only thing that matters is serving the story as well as we can. So, at a certain point, we allow the document we’re creating to start to live its own life, which means it’s beholden to its source material but only to a certain point. There comes a moment where the movie starts to want to be something on its own. You have to decide [if this] thing that it wants to be that is different than the comic is worth doing,”

“In terms of the aesthetics, I think maybe subconsciously, we wanted it to look like that,” he continues. “But I think, more than anything, our way in with our camera and our lighting and our color palettes was more just kind of arch. We wanted really strong arch colors and light and shadows and that happens to be how a lot of comics are created. So, it ends up looking like that. Now, in terms of what my experience with ChapterHouse and Captain Canuck lent to it, I knew exactly what it would be like to be on a Comic-Con tour and the cramps and headaches that the owner has to look forward to arriving at a venue. So, I think there’s some [place] in the movie where I’m yelling at the guy who owns a comic book shop about a box that he can’t find. That seems to happen at every Comic-Con. That seemed to be a bit of a comic industry banality that could be something funny and real. So, some of my years in admin in that world definitely informed vibes in this movie.”

When he thinks about who has most influenced his work, Baruchel believes that some of the best aspects of the film stem from both the comic world and classic horror cinema. Though most of his examples are well-known classics, his recognition of one of Kubrick’s most famous works stands out as surprising.

“Alan Moore’s [work in] From Hell, I think is as good as use of the comic book medium as has ever been created,” Baruchel points out. “I would also put Preacher up there. Everything Garth Ennis did for the years that he wrote ThePunisher [is] really, really, really important to me. Then, I would have to say, for horror flicks, it would be The Exorcist, the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre by Tobe Hooper and John Carpenter’s The Thing. To be honest, I think still The Exorcist is probably the scariest movie ever made but I think what might be neck and neck with it [is something that] people don’t think of it as a horror movie. I think I would argue that 2001: A Space Odyssey is probably the scariest movie ever made. So, I will spend my life trying to recreate even a moment from that film.”

As is the case with any work of art, both comic and horror culture are digested and viewed differently with each audience member. For example, while some may celebrate horror for its grit and darkness, others feel uncomfortable and even angered by what they see. In regards to this, Violence opts to discuss the relationship between artist and audience and, in particular, the creative power and responsibility that the creator may (or may not) recognize that they hold.

“It’s an inherently kind of relative experience as an audience member consuming a work of art,” says Baruchel. “I was trying my best to show every bad thing that can come from this. It was a sort of mental target. It’s more about this idea that one can divorce oneself from responsibility for anything one puts out into the world, which I think is as absurd as the concept that video games and comics make people kill people. I think those are both two very facile, silly, absurd philosophies… When Todd has made a Faustian bargain and even if he thinks that his book is victimized by critics, part of him as a rational man has to agree with at least part of what they’re saying. So, he knows ultimately that even if he believes his work has more merit than people seem to believe it does, he knows what his fan base looks like and he knows ultimately how will come across in the cold light of day. So, it’s about the sort of spectrum of responsibility that he was able to keep at arm’s length, getting closer and closer to him until the end.”

Having said this, one of the great debates surrounding horror films is the distinction between violence as art and fetishizing evil. Asked where he believes the line between exploitation and art lies in the genre, Baruchel believes that, while that line is subjective, it often stems from the author’s sense of authenticity.

“I think it’s a question that we don’t necessarily provide a clear answer to which is deliberate,” he answers. “I think there’s some stuff which the film kind of takes a specific moral philosophy and standpoint on but there’s other stuff that is more kind of contributing to a debate and a conversation that I feel should happen. That being said, with those movies that I watch, I know in my heart of hearts when something is feels truthful and something feels kind of fetishistic. I’d point to a Quebecois movie, Les 7 Jours du Talion (which is called in English, 7 Days), and that movie is really harsh. It’s just one guy torturing another guy in a room basically for a whole movie and [with a] great degree of realism. That’s a harsh watch but never once does it feel cheap or false. Never once does it feel like a love letter to violence and it doesn’t seem to be sort of wallowing in it. So, to answer the question, I think it’s kind of hard. It’s this almost amorphous thing that we call truth. I think you can tell when something warrants its aesthetic and, I feel, I think you can [tell] when it is ugly for the sake of ugly. I think it’s a terribly relative thing because every single one of us watches the same movie [and we are] going to have some different reactions to it. So, that would be my kind of instinct is that it speaks to more the truth behind it. [For example,] why Seven is important and a lot of other movies about a serial killer aren’t.”

Within Violence’s healthy dose of blood and gore, it’s also interesting to note the significant amount of religious imagery in the film that is often used to give depth to the murderous mayhem. Having grown up in a religious family, Baruchel recognizes that the emotional challenges of his upbringing serve as an influence within the film’s visuals.

“Basically, I’m kind of a child of two cultures to a degree. My dad is Sephardic Jewish, first generation, and my mom [comes from the] type of Irish, English, Scottish Canadians, and deeply Catholic,” he responds. “Some of the most impactful, not necessarily best, but most impactful moments in my childhood are tied to religion and Catholicism specifically. I was in Catholic school from Grade One through Six and have hated the entire time as a result of it. I like to tell people that I was raised with two different, but very potent, forms of guilt from Jewish culture and Catholic culture. This is the best way I can say it. I remember my mom reading me the Bible when I was a kid and she got to the story about Noah. I started like bawling my eyes out uncontrollably. At three years old, [I was] bawling my eyes out. Why would God want to do this? And then, Catholicism has a lot of really beautiful stuff but it is very deeply violent. You grow up going to church and in class and seeing Christ eviscerated and brutalized. It’s drilled into you. So, it’s impossible for me to kind of separate blood from awe, because it was drilled into me from a childhood and from years and years and years in church. My relationship with the church is still kind of like a weird, tenuous one. I reject most of it and yet I still feel a degree of safety and comfort when I’m in one. So, there’s a sort of push and pull in me that kind of finds it finds its way out and manifests itself in this movie.” 

Of course, a unique blessing for Baruchel is the chance to film within his home country of Canada. While he admits it might have been easier to work somewhere else, he feels that one of the great blessings of filmmaking is the opportunity to contribute to the cultural make-up of his home country.

“This is my home. It’s where I’m from, and this is where I’m most comfortable,” he begins. “The other piece of it is I feel what many could call a silly obligation to English Canadian cinema. I want to know that, for better or worse, I contributed to the cinematic language of my country. I want to know that I added something to our kind of cultural tapestry. It would be more convenient, I think, for me to have gone elsewhere potentially but I know that, at the end of the day, even if I got to create some really special stuff, I would’ve contributed to another country’s culture.” 

“For me, my great shame is that I never joined the army, if I’m being perfectly frank. That’s not a joke. That’s something [that’s always haunted me since I was a kid, that I didn’t do a lot of my uncles and my granddad and my cousins did. I don’t mean to say that I am comparing this movie to what any of my uncles or grandad or cousins did and join the army but it is, in some way, a way that I can kind of contribute and help. Countries come and go, but art sticks around. I would like to add to this country as best as I can.”

For full audio of our interview with Jay Baruchel, click here.

Random Acts of Violence is available on VOD on July 31st, 2020.

Random Acts of Violence: Are You Not Entertained?

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“Real art is born of truth. Everything else is a random act of violence.” -Jesse Williams, Random Acts of Violence

While the genre is most well-known for its scares or graphic depictions of violence, the very best horror films have something to say. 

Thankfully, while it’s happy to serve the fans that it wishes to reach, Random Acts of Violence leans towards the latter. With a smart script and engaging premise, there’s a compelling honesty to Violence that makes it worth a watch.

Directed by Jay Baruchel (Goon), Random Acts of Violence tells the story of Todd Walkley (Jesse Williams), the creator of Slasherman, an R-rated comic book series based on a real-life serial killer. Having decided to end his wildly successful series, he ventures out onto a press tour with his publicist, Ezra (Jay Baruchel) and his girlfriend, Kathy (Jordana Brewster) in order to promote the final issue. Along the way, they visit the town where Slasherman caused so much harm in the past and, inadvertently, awaken the same murderous beast that Todd’s story mythologizes.

Based on the 2010 comic of the same name, Random Acts of Violence is a fascinating mash-up between horror films and the visuals of graphic novels. With his ever-improving skill behind the camera, Baruchel (who also co-wrote the screenplay alongside Jesse Chabot) integrates a darkened colour palette for the primary narrative scenes with the bold visual artistry of the comic itself. By moving between worlds, Baruchel visually reinforces their direct influence one has on the other and blurs the lines between reality and what’s on the page. Tightly compacted into an intense 81 minutes, Violence moves along quickly and effectively, never leaving the audience much chance to catch their breath. Sharply written, the film is well of the tropes of the genre and lovingly honours and subverts them. In the process, the film carves out its own unique voice while not forgetting the kills and chills.

Though, what’s most interesting about the film is that, in the midst of the Violence, there lies the beating heart of a conscience.

While Random Acts of Violence eventually descends into the graphic bloodshed that the title suggests, there is a method to Baruchel’s madness that is far from random. While some horror films seem intent on pushing the envelope with graphic visuals simply to titillate the audience, Violence provides compelling conversations that underscore the bloodbath and challenge the meaning of the murders. For instance, even as the body count rises, Todd continues to defend his decision to portray graphic imagery due to his artistic intent. Nevertheless, he still feels a certain culpability that weighs on his soul. Does his artistic expression bear some responsibility to this string of murders? Or is it just another delusional person looking for an excuse to serve as their inspiration? 

Baruchel uses the graphic nature of the film to disturb, rather than excite. While the film never places blame on the audience for enjoying the blood and gore, neither does it allow them to completely enjoy watching it either. By slowing down the violence and forcing the audience to see much of the horror, the film refuses to allow the audience to celebrate the carnage by reminding them that these people matter. In other words, despite its graphic content, Baruchel’s film pauses to ask what it means for us to mythologize the villains of our culture rather than give voice to the victims that they leave in their wake.

Though we know little about them, these victims still matter.

As a result of its self-awareness, Random Acts of Violence both serves and challenges the horror genre. By offering chilling visuals and scares, the film honours the great thrillers that came before and ‘gives the people what they want’. However, in a culture that elevates the mystique of the murderer, Violence does not allow the viewer to get too comfortable in their enjoyment of the bloodshed by reminding them of the true value of human life.

And it’s this truth that prevents the film from simply becoming more random acts of violence.

For full audio of our roundtable conversation with writer/director Jay Baruchel, click here.

Random Acts of Violence premieres on VOD on July 31st, 2020.

teenFish#10: Picturing Loss in POLAROID

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Welcome to teenFish, a podcast series that lets teenagers speak about media that matters to them in their own voice. Hosted by Daniel Collins (Infinity Warm-Up), teenFish airs every month and invites local youth to engage the truth and lies of the shows and films that excite them.

When high school loner Bird Phillips (Kathryn Prescott) discovers a vintage Polaroid camera, she remains unaware of the dark power at her fingertips. When she realizes that the old camera contains the power to take the life of whoever has their picture taken with it, she must decide whether to use the camera’s power or dispose of the cursed gadget. This month, Daniel and Jacob get together to talk about losing a loved one, meaningful mementos and horror cliches.

You can also stream the episode above on podomatic, Alexa (via Stitcher), or Spotify! Or, you can download the ep on Apple Podcasts or Google Play!

Blood Quantum: Shedding History’s Blood

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In Blood Quantum, things begin to spiral out of control on the isolated Mi’gMaq reserve of Red Crow when an unseen virus begins to turn the locals into blood-thirsty zombies. As the dead begin to come back to life, the Indigenous inhabitants discover that they are strangely immune to the plague and are forced to care for those in the area who are desperately seeking sanctuary themselves.

Directed by Jeff Barnaby, Quantum takes the all-too-familiar zombie genre and somehow makes it feel fresh and engaging. While the structure follows the necessary zombie tropes, the setting and its unique voice breathe new life into the film. By framing the narrative through the lens of the Indigenous people, Barnaby’s vision balances blood and carnage with social commentary, making the film both fun and thought-provoking at the same time. Led by an especially strong performance by Michael Greyeyes as the courageous but emotionally broken Traylor, Quantum’s solid casting helps the story feel more personal as opposed to simply another horror epic. However, the struggle within Quantum runs much deeper than a fight against the killer virus. Along with the blood and guts, the battle within Quantum also reaches to the heart of a culture that speaks at a historical level. 

More specifically, while Quantum definitely entertains, the film allows Barnaby to explore tensions between Indigenous people and the white community. As the virus begins to spread throughout Red Crow, the fight for survive begins to also expose the underlying racial tensions that run throughout the community. (Incidentally, the film’s title refers to a colonial blood measurement system that is used to determine the validity of one’s aboriginal status.) As such, while some Mi’gMaq are willing to see potential for the cultures to build a new future together, there are others who remain entrenched in their hatred. While the walls literally keep those infected at bay, they also serve as a visual metaphor for the self-protection of a people that have been taken advantage of over the years. While white families are invited inside the compound, they are met with a suspicious eye, both as a potential carrier of the virus but also because of past experiences. As a result, Quantum highlights the struggle to build something new when history remains such an obstacle. 

Questions of what it means to tear down painful barriers and begin again are often painful and, thankfully, Quantum is willing to explore the impact of such decisions. Who can be trusted when history has shown us others have not been trustworthy before? Can forgiveness break through in an effort to move forward? What does it mean to celebrate our differences but come together as one? Even though it’s not  uncommon for horror films to delve into social commentary, it’s questions such as these that help give Quantum its unique voice and soul. 

While the zombie genre may have been mined frequently, thankfully Barnaby is able to breathe fresh air into his horror epic through his passion to explore new ground. Strong performances, a solid script and poignant direction give the film its unique voice and, as a result, Blood Quantum definitely rises above the [zombie] herd.

To hear audio of our conversation with Jeff Barnaby, click here.

Blood Quantum brings the carnage to VOD on Tuesday, April 28th, 2020.

The Lodge: Snowed in Psychologically

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The new psychological horror by directors Severin Fiala and Veronika Franz, The Lodge follows Aidan (Jaeden Martell) and Mia (Lia McHugh), two children who have been raised in the Christian faith. When their mom commits suicide, they are forced to stay with their dad, Richard (Richard Armitage) and his fiancé, Grace (Riley Keough), a young woman with severe psychological issues that require heavy medication that result from her dark past involving a Christian cult. During the cold Christmas break, Aidan, Mia, and Grace are forced by Richard to stay together at their family’s lodge for some quality family bonding. Secluded and isolated from the rest of civilization, strange things start to happen as the power goes out and supplies go missing. As a result, everyone in the lodge slowly begins to losing their minds waiting for Richards return so they can head back to town.

With that premise, one would initially think that The Lodge is a classic horror movie that’s set in a “bottle”, mimicking more recent horror movies like The Visit. As the film begins, the movie focuses on Aidan and Mia’s perspective but, once they’re at the lodge, it shifts to Grace’s point of view. As the mysteries begin to unravel, the film has enough twists and turns to keep you guessing along the way. Are the kids somehow doing these things? Is Grace being influenced by her past cult? Or is Aidan and Mia’s dead mother haunting them? 

The Lodge also carries an underlying theme of repentance. As a survivor of a Christian cult led by her father, Grace witnessed dozens of people who committed suicide or killed because they were labelled as sinners. Although she survived in order to spread the word of her father’s teachings, Grace has tried to move past her horrible past. However, after discovering her horrible past, the kids despise her, unable to accept her. Because of her past, the kids try to punish Grace by cutting the power, taking her medication and food, and trying to trick her into believing they’re all in purgatory and must repent for their sins. (It’s actually ironic that, by viewing Grace as the sinner that must repent, they become the sinners.)

To its credit, The Lodge is unpredictable in its storytelling, keeping the audience surprised along the way. Through its set design, it’s able to successfully create a claustrophobic purgatory in the cabin itself. While the family remains stuck in the cabin with no supplies, power, internet, or connection to anyone of the outside world, they soon find that trying to leave is impossible as they’re surrounded by think layers of snow on thin ice. By their use of bleak lighting and menacing shadows, Fiala and Franz leaves their family slowly drifting to an icy hell with no escape. For that reason, The Lodge was a horror movie that was great at keeping you surprised as the story unravels into an interesting take on a classic horror movie theme.

The Lodge scares moviegoers in theatres beginning Friday, February 21, 2020

Color Out of Space: Sci-Fi Horror Never Quite Lands

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By Johnathan Stowe

As a sci-fi horror movie, Color Out of Space has some rough edges and could be looked at by some as a silly and bizarre movie. Is this movie worth seeing? I personally think that it deserves a watch. 

Written and directed by Richard Stanley (The Otherworld), Color Out of Space tells the story of Nathan Gardner (Nicholas Cage) and his family who live in a remote county side area. Nathan lives with his wife Theresa, his oldest sons Benny and Jack, and his daughter Lavinia. Benny really cares for animals and even helps to take care of the Alpacas and other livestock around the farm. His sister, Lavinia, is a rebellious teen who is done with her family, constantly listening to rock music and performing necromancy. The youngest, Jack is a young and mysterious boy who likes to draw. When a meteorite crashes down on the Gardner’s property, it seems to alter time as the kids are frozen from what they are doing and, eventually, acting in bizarre ways. (At one point, the effects of the alien even cause one character to cut their fingers off without realizing it.) 

Color Out of Space speaks to the issue of global warming and climate change. From Ward’s narration in the opening credits to the alien affect on the livestock and drinking water, the film pushes for an interesting discussion on how we should protect our planet before we infect it and destroy everything we love. Because of the alien attack, the damage affected everything from mutated people and animals to the tainting of vegetation. (In fact, even the source of water becomes contaminated, turning everyone that drinks it into mind-controlled slaves.) Though the alien (or the ‘Color’ mentioned in the title) is the infection within the film, the destruction it causes also speaks to the potential for our own ability to ruin our world in the future.

In other movies of this genre, it’s common for the audience to emotionally connect with either the family effected or the ‘lone survivor’ but, unfortunately, Space doesn’t do it. After everything that happens, there simply isn’t much that connects you with the characters. While the movie starts off well, the script becomes a mess halfway through, veering off in ways that confuse the audience. The storyline doesn’t allow the audience to connect with these characters. However, one good thing about the movie is the visuals. Filled with wild images such as mutated people, a hydra-like alpaca and more, the visuals in the film are on point and makes you feel sick to your stomach, which works in a film like this. (It’s also appropriate that a movie called Color Out of Space would feature breathtaking colors and the film’s special effects are also very beautiful.)

Wild and crazy, Color Out of Space is definitely a movie for all Nicolas Cage fans to see. Even though the story doesn’t always work, the visuals are beautiful and disgusting (when they need to be).

Color Out of Space is in theatres now.

The Lighthouse: The [Self]Destruction of Darkness

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Starring Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe, The Lighthouse follows the journey of Winslow (Pattinson) and Wake (Dafoe), two lighthouse keepers, who try to maintain their sanity while living in isolation on a remote island off the coast of Maine. Tightly written and directed by Robert Eggers (The Witch), The Lighthouse is a fascinating piece that feels like a throwback to classic post-War noir films. Unlike most modern horror films that insist on bombarding the senses, the film is a slow descent into madness highlighted by strong performances from its cast and a striking visual style. Shot on black and white 35mm film, Lighthouse echoes classic Hitchcock films like Psycho and Rear Window by allowing its characters to slowly lose themselves to their circumstances. What’s more, by shooting in a 1:19 : 1 ratio, the film visually reinforces the claustrophobic atmosphere between the two leads as they battle for screen presence. 

Due to the intensity of the relationship between them, the performances of the two leads become even more pivotal to the film and, thankfully, both men are up to the task. While Dafoe has remained a gifted actor for decades now, Pattison continues to mature into a fine performer as well. As the sea rages around them, both actors thunder away at each other onscreen with a rising fury as secrets are revealed and both characters become increasingly unhinged.

Through its visuals and narrative, Lighthouse is most intent on exploring whether one can ever truly escape their own darkness. Taking the position at the lighthouse to start over, Winslow is a man who is determined to prove his worth. He works hard, keeps to himself and simply wants to reset his life on the mainland. (This serves as a direct contrast to Wake who, despite his past, has simply given in to his role on the island.) However, after a questionable decision appears to set the spiritual realm against them, Winslow and Wake find themselves at the mercy of the ever-raging sea. Despite Winslow’s desire to return home and start over, the evil around (and within) them continues to grow, giving failure a sense of inevitability. In this world, the realities of grace and mercy become elusive myths and the sins of our past dictate who we are in the present. For Winslow, hope becomes a boat that may never reach him as the sea grows angrier. In the midst of a furious storm, Winslow finds himself torn as he desperately seeks the secret of the light yet remains trapped within the darkness. 

Filled with psychological terror and bold imagery, The Lighthouse shines brightly. Caught in the grip of a pseudo spiritual enemy, Winslow and Wake fight and claw for supremacy against elements and each other. 

The Lighthouse dives into madness in theatres beginning October 18th, 2019

Creating Historical Horror: 1on1 with Robert Eggers (THE LIGHTHOUSE)

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Starring Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe, The Lighthouse follows the journey of Winslow (Pattinson) and Wake (Dafoe), two lighthouse keepers, who try to maintain their sanity while living in isolation on a remote island off the coast of Maine. The Lighthouse is a fascinating piece that feels like a throwback to classic post-War noir films. Echoing classic Hitchcock films like Psycho and Rear Window, Eggers states that it was the film’s unique setting that first drew him to the project. 

“It was the atmosphere and the idea of these two guys in a lighthouse in black and white that made me interested. Then, it was about finding the things that are scary about this setting and indulging in them. Certainly, every little kid knows the first time they get like sucked under a wave that she wins every time. Mother nature is for real.” 

While he was developing his vision for the film, Eggers knew that he needed two men who could handle the material and bring the intensity in their conflicts with one another. Using these criteria, it was an easy decision for him to pursue both Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson for the key roles. 

“I had wanted to do something with Willem and he had shockingly wanted to do something with me. Same with Rob,” he explains. “I [once] offered Robert role in one of the movies that didn’t get made as sort of a posh, cigar-smoking Victorian dandy and he said ‘no thanks. I like something that’s actually challenging and strange.’ So, when The Lighthouse became something that looked like was actually going to get made, who else are you going to call? There’s no question that they’re the appropriate people for these roles… I find it funny that people still kind of say, ‘Oh, after Twilight, Rob’s finally doing some stuff.’ Man, have you been paying attention? He’s a great actor.” 

Shooting in a 1:19:1 aspect ratio on black and white film, The Lighthouse visually reinforces the claustrophobic atmosphere between the two leads as they battle for screen presence. Asked when he decided to shoot the film in such a unique and unsettling format, Eggers claims that those cinematic choices were always a part of his vision for the film.

“From the beginning, it was black and white, [with a] 35 millimeter negative,” he expounds. “It was seven years from the first time I started talking about this until it got made, [so] we thought about different things. There were versions that would have been really more self-consciously degraded looking but it was a process of us pitching different ideas back and forth and then finding out what was actually feasible and affordable. This film is so heavy handed. We made a lot of strong choices and we’re sticking to them even if they’re over the top.”

Interestingly, with The Witch and now The Lighthouse, Eggers’ first two features have been ‘period pieces’. When he thinks about what it is about history that makes it so scary, Eggers contends that the true horror of human nature stems from our inability to learn from our past“History is terrifying because human beings do bad things all the time and the further we are away from different epox, they either look romantic or more horrifying. [Then,] we don’t tend to learn from the past. So, it’s nice for me to understand where we are and where we’re going by looking at where we came from.” 

As these characters slowly descend into madness, Eggers’ film explores the nature and origins of power and hyper-masculinity when two titans are pitted against one another.

“My ‘go-to’ quote is ‘Nothing good happens when two men are trapped in a giant phallus.’ [laughs] But there is a lot of truth in that. There is all of this heteronormative masculine energy and erotic energy that is bubbling up with nowhere to go so it’s going to explode and come out somehow.” 

Ironically, given the film’s intense vibes and madness, one of the more underrated qualities of the film is its underlying humour. In the midst of a heightened environment with wild situations, The Lighthouse also brings an unexpected amount of levity to its script.

“Tarkovsky has almost no humor in his movies, but one of his idols is Dostoyevsky is hilarious,” Eggers illuminates. “Being miserable is hilarious. So, as my brother and I were writing the script, we really wanted to embrace that. Rob and Willem are incredible comedians. In fact, when we were shooting it, I kept saying to the editor like, ‘I think this is too funny.’”

Of course, due to the film’s emphasis on the otherworldly nature of the elements, one would expect that shooting would come with its challenges. 

“Really, there was never really an easy scene,” Eggers recalls. “Even when we moved into this stage, the producers, financiers and the bond company came in we said ‘we’re going to pick it up’ and we had to say no because actually these are all extremely long-oners with elaborate choreographies. There was nothing easy.” 

“One thing that I haven’t talked about was when the mermaid appears on the beach, the tides move really quickly and Valeriia [Karaman], as a mermaid in a prosthetic, can’t walk. So, we have all these guys walking her out to the rocks to place her and we had the rain machine going. We can just see, minute after minute, that these huge crashing waves are getting closer and closer and we’re just trying to shoot this thing before the waves come and wash our mermaid into the Atlantic Ocean. That was incredibly stressful.” 

With this in mind, one of the film’s more interesting (and unique) characters comes in the form of a seagull that plagues Winslow. While working with animals is never easy, Eggers says that he was shocked at how well the birds performed.

“The seagulls were amazing,” he remembers. “There were three birds that played ‘One Eye’… [and] they were incredibly smart and well trained. The trainer was always giving us low expectations of what the birds could do and saying that they are very sensitive. But then the first thing we did was the bird landing on the window sill, pecking three times and flying away. Amazingly, it just… did it… with no CG and, and we thought ‘wow.’ It’s never easy shooting with animals [but] they were cool. “

Willem Dafor, Robert Pattinson The Lighthouse A24

Since the film takes place in a lonely lighthouse, it should come as no surprise that one of the key themes of the film is the tension between light and darkness. For Eggers, much of the mystery surrounding the mystical light grew out of his appreciation for the physical lens itself.

“I wanted the lighthouse and the cottage in the lighthouse station to be a total [dump],” he illuminates. “In truth, in the 1890s, it would have been really difficult to have a lighthouse station in such disrepair because, in the United States, lighthouse establishment was like run like a military organization. They constantly had inspectors checking in on things. We invented the idea that this was so remote that the inspectors [just ignored it]. I didn’t set it earlier when the lighthouse would be in such disrepair because I wanted the foghorn with that sound and I wanted the Fresnal lens, which is the lens in the beacon.”

“It’s hard to believe that those were invented in the 1860s (I believe) because they look like art deco, jewel spaceships. I felt that that object is so romantic and mysterious and hypnotic that, if we had that, there would be a secret in the light, whatever it may be. In fact, our DP, Jared, and I went to one of the few lighthouses in North America that has a working Fresnal lens. I truly believe it was not just because we were working on this movie, but we could have stared at the thing all night. It’s so stunning, you know?” 

While much of modern horror opts to focus itself on gore or ‘jump scares’, The Lighthouse‘s emphasis on its characters’ descent into madness feels far more similar to classic sci-fi horror films of the post-War era. Nevertheless, Eggers also believes that this film allowed him to establish more of his own style, rather than rely exclusively on the greats that came before.

“Hitchcock was not a deliberate influence though he was certainly one of our teachers… I was also pleased to see this movie that put David Lynch’s oeuvre into [this] context… I think the cinematic influences, even the ones that I’ve never seen, are fairly clear. I do think that The Witch wears its influences on its sleeve in a way that feels much more like a first feature. I feel like, for me personally, I’ve integrated my influences a little more [in The Lighthouse] and it feels like you can see what they are, but I feel like I’m doing a better job becoming myself in this one, which I’ll hopefully get better at.” 

For full audio of our interview with Robert Eggers, click here.

The Lighthouse dives into madness in theatres beginning October 25th, 2019

Midsommer: A Nightmare Onscreen

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By Catherine Erskine

Midsommer tells the story of Dani and Christian, a young American couple with a relationship on the brink of falling apart. But after a family tragedy keeps them together, a grieving Dani invites herself to join Christian and his friends on a trip to a once-in-a-lifetime midsummer festival in a remote Swedish village. However, their carefree summer holiday takes a sinister turn when the insular villagers invite their guests to partake in festivities that are increasingly disturbing. 

Directed by Ari Aster (Hereditary), the opening scene will make you feel like you are watching the beginning of a Wes Anderson movie. Beautiful, artistic and clear in it’s intent of the perfect shots and scene set up, I was quickly won over by its use of detailed artwork and scenery. Florance Pugh does great work showing Dani’s journey through her grief and the awkwardness of being the girlfriend that no one wants crashing the “guys trip”. While the other cast members played their parts well, it’s difficult to sympathize or relate to the character of Christian (Jack Reynor). Despite his attempt to be the caring but distant boyfriend, there were few redeeming qualities about him. For that reason, its difficult to care for his situation, or theirs as a couple.

I was very much looking forward to seeing MidSommar as I felt it had a potential to be an amazing and different style of horror film. But I was nervous going into it as, from the preview, it seemed as though it also had the possibility of going off the rails. Which, sadly… I think it did in many ways. 

At its core, Midsommer speaks to a horribly awkward relationship situation to which many of us can relate. Throughout the film, Dani’s remains codependant towards Christian who is very much too chicken to end their relationship. Furthermore, he eventually finds himself “trapped” by Dani’s family tragedy and drags their relationship out further, despite the fact that neither of them believes its healthy. (Similarly, Midsommer also follows Dani’s codependent relationship with her parents and sister, into her romantic relationship and finally, into the village.)

Still, I felt that Midsommer falls quickly into every “cult” horror movie cliché, using their imagination through its incredibly graphic–but unnecessary–visuals. As a major horror film fan, I completely understand and can appreciate the gory and bloody when it adds to the tension. However, there are few moments in the movie where graphic content enhanced or added to any sense of fear. Was the excess gore because the artists put a lot of effort into these clearly fake heads being smashed? Or was it more awkwardly the belief that this would somehow be another showcase of art in horror. Either way. It just kind of makes you roll your eyes and check it off your ‘horror film cliché’ bingo card. Even the film’s graphic sexual content simply feels like an excuse to show an extended full frontal–both male and female [points for gender equality I guess]–scene that could have left more to the imagination. 

In conclusion, Midsommer allows you to feel every minute of the 147 minute run time… and not in a good way. The film had so many opportunities to be a great film yet I was sorely disappointed. While beautiful to the eyes, the film’s story, characters and “horror” will leave you wanting and bored. 

William Jackson Harper, Will Poulter, Florence Pugh, Jack Reynor

Ghosts and the Darkness: 1on1 with Raymond Cruz (THE CURSE OF LA LARONA)

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Set in 1970s Los Angeles, The Curse of La Larona tells the story of the legendary titular ghost as she stalks the night — and the children. Despite the ominous warning of a troubled mother, a social worker and her children find themselves drawn into a terrifying supernatural world. Fighting for survival, their only hope stems from a disheartened curandero (Raymond Cruz) who practices mysticism to fight the dark forces of evil. Although the film is another piece of the ever-expanding universe of The Conjuring, Cruz argues that the film is ultimately based in reality.

Star Raymond Cruz, at the premiere of THE CURSE OF LA LARONA

“It’s been hundreds of years that [this story] has been passed down from generation to generation, but it’s more than just a tale,” he warns. “There’s been sightings of La Larona throughout Latin culture in Santa Fe, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, California, Mexico and other Latin countries. There are people that have actually heard and seen her. She’s a modern-day Boogie Man, [and] she’s actually out there. When you do a film about a horror subject, there has to be an odd sense of reality to it. [There needs to be] the other side that exists and she does exist for people in the Latin community. She’s very real.”

With so much history behind it, Cruz argues that the power of the story is tied significantly into Latin culture and the stories of his youth.

“It’s deeply embedded in the Latin culture,” he explains. “You grow up hearing about it when you were a child. It’s always been a warning [from] your grandparents or your parents that you have to be careful going out at night or if you hear a woman crying, you have to run because that’s La Larona. La Larona isn’t out there trying to scare you. She will kill you.”

In Curse, Cruz plays Rafael, a disillusioned priest who is called to help battle the evil La Larona. Says Cruz, his ability to battle the dark spiritual forces allows him to help those that are overwhelmed by them.

“Rafael is a former priest,” he states. “He left the church because he thought that the church moved too slow in responding to this. He goes out on his own, becomes a curandero and has to use his mix of spirituality—his background is Christianity—and the spirituality of the church. He uses that combined with his magic that he learned about combating negative entities. He feels a void where people who are suffering from the supernatural occurrences where they need help and then, he steps up and helps them. He provides a way for them to survive.” 

In order to prepare for the role, Cruz took the spiritual history of his character very seriously. By referencing actual curanderos, he sought to understand the very real supernatural battles that were taking place within the film.

According to Cruz, “I have a friend who studied with curanderos in Mexico so I used her as a reference. About a month before [we began filming], I started doing my work and started trying to figure out the spirituality of the character. A curandero is basically a shaman. It’s not just saying prayers—although, it is steeped in Catholicism and Christianity—because you can only use light to battle darkness. You can only use good to battle evil. You have to understand their approach, how they work and what their methods are. So, it was a lot of it was trying to understand where his head is at at any moment or what magic he’s using and how he’s using it.”

Though steeped in mythology, Cruz also recognizes the potential to call on actual demonic forces in creating a film like this. Taking no chances with real spiritual entities, he recalls that the production also invited real spiritual practitioners onset to prepare beforehand.

“They brought in some real curanderos,” Cruz recalls. “You have to understand that, where there’s light, there’s dark. If you’re calling on these negative entities, they may appear. You don’t want any of them attaching themselves to you.” 

With that in mind, Cruz hopes that audiences not only get the thrills and chills of the film, but that they also develop a deeper understanding of Latin cultural mythology in the process.

“What I hope the audience learns is a lot about Latin culture and history. This is a legend that is very real to us. It’s not based in myth. It’s actually based in people’s experiences throughout history with this entity. There have been sightings of her throughout the southwest and also New Mexico and California. There have been really horrible things that have happened. People have seen her, people have heard her.”

“That’s what makes this different from other horror films. You have a movie like Jawswhere people have had experiences with great white sharks or where there have been shark attacks. This is pretty much the same thing. There’s been La Larona attacks. People have tried to dismiss it as a ghost movie or ‘it’s just a story’, but it’s very real. And the Latin community there are stories about people who have had supernatural occurrences with her.” 

The Curse of La Laronascares its way into theatres on April 19th, 2019.

For full audio of our interview with Raymond Cruz, click here.