Monthly Archives: September 2023

25Sep / 2023

Blitzed! The 80s Blitz Kids Story (2020)

(Dirs. Bruce Ashley and Michael Donald)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

52-week film challenge, film 33

I love documentaries, but not many of them get a theatrical release (this one didn’t either, apart from a debut screening in London) so I haven’t included them thus far in the Film Challenge, but this one touches on a topic near and dear to me. The New Romantic movement was not the first musical statement of my generation — that would of course be Punk — but it was the one that resonated more deeply than any other before or since.

Blitzed! is a reflective look back on the key movers and prominent regulars who came together in 1979 originally in celebration of the glam-rock period and then-current resurrection of David Bowie, creating a much-needed escape from the UK’s Winter of Discontent the same year. The doc spends its first 10 minutes talking about the nadir (now coming around again, ironically) of England under the heartless Tories and austerity programs of Margaret Thatcher.

Strikes and decay against her and her parties’ cruelty, particularly affecting young people who saw “No Future” and “Anarchy in the UK” going from being songs to being ways of life, created a bleak reality of poverty and hopelessness. And then, there was A Moment: on a BBC performance of “Starman,” the now-androgynous Bowie turned to the camera and sang the line “I had to call someone so I picked on you-oo-oo” and pointed directly into the hearts and minds of his pre-teen and teen fans.

It hit like a divine mission sent from above, and inspired everyone who was watching who felt out-of-place and not like the masses to dedicate their lives to becoming Bowie acolytes in thought, word, and deed. Just five years later — now young adults and with no future in sight — the kids made their move, inspired by Bowie’s radical changes in his music in the intervening years to follow his lead, and break out of their desperate lives and redefine who they were … and could be.

A batch of young creatives around London, led by Steve Strange (best known for the resulting band visage) and Rusty Egan (Rich Kids, Visage, Ultravox, Skids, and many others of that era), created a club where the mantra was anything other than the “desperation fashion” of Punk. It was just a little club in Covent Garden, but it became a safe house, a church, and portal to another world, fueled by both Bowie and the emerging bands he influenced.

The Rich Kids, Midge and Rusty’s first band (with former Sex Pistol Glen Matlock, right)

The documentary consists mostly of photographs and the occasional movie clip of the club and its patrons in their “denying reality” finery and makeup, and interviews with some of the more prominent members of the group (minus Strange, who died in 2015). Starting off with simple “Bowie Nights” in ‘79 at a pub called Billy’s, the movement quickly outgrew the space and moved to an existing wine and cocktail bar already called Blitz.

As the influence of the club’s new direction spread, musicians made up of club regulars created new bands, or existing bands redirected to capture the spirit, inventing a branch of synth-heavy New Wave music that has, like the club goers themselves, never really fallen out of fashion.  It was often framed as the antithesis of Punk, but that was a common misconception: it was more an unconscious political reaction to the bleak reality of the times by escaping into a created world where style and creativity could thrive.

Over and over again, we discover in the film that the Blitz Kids (as they came to be called) have since established careers in the arts (like the band Spandau Ballet, whose first gigs were in Blitz) or complementary and aesthetically-pleasing related fields, such as milliner Steven Jones or costume designer Michelle Clapton. Egan, the club’s founder and DJ, and Strange, the club’s notorious doorman and taste-setter, themselves went on to fame in the band Visage, assisted by Ultravox’s Midge Ure and others to create a kind of declarative musical statement of the mindset of the Blitz Kids.

Ure, along with musicians Andy Polaris, Egan, Gary Kemp, Boy George, Marilyn, and other notable “faces of the 80s” are interviewed, and had careers that lasted long after Blitz closed. Though the club itself was short-lived (though followed by a couple of further attempts, including the Club for Heroes), the aesthetic’s “flambouyancy” and queer-eyed DIY attitude spread far and wide, including hitting the United States and elsewhere throughout the early 80s.

George (left) and Strange (right) on the town

The doc also spends time with the notable but less-famous regulars, like Princess Julia (still a DJ to this day), Jones, Steve Dagger (Spandau Ballet’s manager for the last 40+ years), Robert Elms (writer and broadcaster), and others — all colourful characters with remarkably clear memories of their time at Blitz. Because of its style, the club was also, among other things, a haven for both impoverished straight kids who raided thrift shops for stylish gear while barely-existing in fetid squats and dead-end jobs as well as outcast LGBTQ+ youth — everyone of every race or creed was welcome, as long as you looked good and loved the music.

The club itself eventually fell apart because of drugs, especially heroin, but at its peak the club was a drug — and the best party you’ve ever been to, and I know that firsthand — thanks to a very brief London visit at just the right time, some borrowed clothes from a friend, and sheer dumb luck. I can confirm that pre-fame Boy George was working the coat check at the time, and that if you were 18-21 it was like you died and went to heaven — everyone was stunningly beautiful, the cocktails were deliberately cheap, and the music was fantastic.

Midge Ure of Ultravox

From my few hours there, I returned to my home in Miami a very changed lad (in both good and bad ways). As for the documentary, its only serious fault is the paucity of photos and footage of the club the directors had access to.

More have since been discovered, some quite recently, but over its 90 minute runtime the sharp-eyed will spot re-used pictures and other repeated material. This shortfall is more than made up for by the excellent interviews with what I will jokingly call “the survivors,” who made the most of their early peak youth and, very often, carved out a life from the inspiration of Blitz.

Steve Strange, now the ghost in the (drum) machine

Egan, Kemp, and George provide some of the most insightful interviews, both setting up the historical setting as well as the highlights of their time in this alternate reality they helped create. The absence of any contextual interviews from other sources with the late Steve Strange seems like an huge opportunity missed, given how large his shadow looms over everything.

The women interviewed, particularly Clapton, Darla-Jane Gilroy, and Princess Julia provide incredibly valuable “colour commentary,” if you will, because they were among the most dedicated regulars. They come off as being a driving force in helping create and maintain the philosophy of creative refinement that demanded not just looking good, but experimenting with different looks, that Strange made into a challenge for wanna-be entrants.

Princess Julia and acolytes

The highlight of the interviews is the segment I’ll call “OMG the night Bowie came to Blitz.” As the raison d’etre of the club and its mindset, this was akin to actual Jesus stopping by your local church.

Not only did the great man seem to enjoy himself (Strange tried and failed to keep his presence a secret, as if that was possible), but he recruited four of the regulars (including Gilroy, who’s memories had to help make up for the lack of Strange’s recollections) to be in his very memorable “Ashes to Ashes” music video. You know this was the peak of Gilroy’s, Strange’s and all the Blitz Kids’ lives.

The “Ashes to Ashes” shoot. Top: Darla-Jane Gilroy (left), Steve Strange (right)

Overall, the documentary is an important artifact of a magical two-year-plus moment that really had a huge (and to this day severely underestimated) influence on the world, including music, art, fashion, makeup, the queer community, and so much more. As one of my last acts before I left Miami, I volunteered to help some college students set up a regular gathering of wannabe Blitz Kids, goths, and other teen outcasts at clubs for the same sort of fashion-show/dance hall — only this time it was the bands from Blitz we grooved to.

Suffice to say that if you were part of the New Romantic scene or just loved the bands that came from it, you will appreciate this documentary’s insights, no matter where you lived or who you were (or pretended to be) in 1980. If Steve Strange could have been more involved in this, it would have been flawless — but thankfully Rusty Egan, Gary Kemp, Boy George, and the Blitz Irregulars stood in his stead and paid tribute to Egan and Strange’s beautiful moment.

Inside the Blitz Club, Covent Garden 1981, by Dick Scott-Stewart. That’s Michelle Clapton, top left.

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17Sep / 2023

Godzilla ゴジラ (1954, dir. Ishiro Hōnda)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½
52-week film challenge, film 32

I don’t think I’ve ever seen the full Japanese version of Godzilla before, certainly not as an adult, but of course I’ve seen the Americanised “Raymond Burr” version — Godzilla: King of the Monsters! — a time or 10. Like many people, I climbed aboard the kaiju train as a kid, when all these great monster movies started showing up on TV on the weekends, so I caught most of them back then. TV stations at the time of course tended to show the later colour films which were more aimed at kids, so I don’t think I’ve even gotten around to seeing Godzilla Raids Again (1955) either, a grievous mistake that should be corrected soon.

The first Godzilla is most definitely not a kid’s movie: it is a lightly-abstracted but still powerful statement on the horrors of nuclear weapons, and a philosophical exercise pondering where Japan (and the world) goes from here. In this film, Godzilla is the spawn of the atomic bomb — and wreaks similar terror on Tokyo as the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki did, with incredible loss of life and property.

When the film was made, postwar Japan was still wrestling with the consequences of its own actions in WWII, just eight years earlier, as well as the devastating and overwhelming American response, which was to destroy entire cities full of innocent civilians (about a quarter million in total) — the greatest act of deliberate mass-murder had seen at the time, until the full horror of the Holocaust was revealed. The Godzilla creature in this first movie was intended to be seen as an utterly terrifying and unstoppable force, even though even I have to admit the face they gave it is … unintentionally kind of cute.

Hi kids! It’s your old pal, Godzilla! Don’t do drugs, and stay in school! See ya later!

The B&W cinematography of Godzilla is terrific, and the cast are first-rate: from venerated actor Takashi Shimura (best known as the leader of The Seven Samurai, but also featured in Roshomon, Ikiru, Yojimbo, The Hidden Fortress and many more classic films, here playing the pacifist scientist Kyohei Yamane) to relative newcomer Akira Takarada (playing the hero role of Ogata), Akihiko Hirata as the anti-hero scientist Serizawa, and the radiant Momoko Kôchi as Emiko Yamane, Kyohei’s daughter — a role she reprised in her last film, 1995’s Godzilla vs. Destroyah. All the players, from the greatest to the smallest roles, are played with deep conviction and seriousness.

I will take an indulgent moment here to note my deep fondness for the fashion of the 1950s — everyone in the film looks fantastic, with the men in suits or lab coats, police and military in sharp uniforms, and Emiko in fashionable garments of the time, with everyone looking smart and well-groomed. It’s a reminder of one element of the world gone by I wish would make a comeback, even as I myself fail to adhere to it.

(L-R) Emiko, Dr Serazawa, Dr Yamane, Ogata

The compositing in the film should also be noted, as it is considerably above-average for the time. I caught only one moment in the film where the effect wobbled a bit — some power-line fortifications meant to stop Godzilla — but was otherwise nearly flawless. The moment when Godzilla’s head pops up over a mountain being approached by scientists is a perfect example: though it might be seen as amusing now, it was undoubtedly surprising and convincing in showing Godzilla’s scale early on in the film.

The analogy of the war that had recently devastated Japan couldn’t be more clear: while the authorities work feverishly to stop this new threat (also featuring lots of scenes of how Japan has rebuilt its civil defenses), nothing is effective against Godzilla. Dr Yamane is the lone voice calling for a less militaristic approach and for studying the creature, but doesn’t really have an answer on how to balance his wishes against the safety of the population. Emiko discovers that her other admirer, Serizawa, may have a way to stop Godzilla — but is too scared to use it, lest the secret of his super-destructive weapon fall into the wrong (or anyone else’s) hands.

This film has a lot of tension and conflict in it, with no comedic elements at all, and a lovely slow buildup of the conflict. Godzilla first attacks some ships at sea while remaining hidden underwater, eventually emerges to wreak havoc on land, and with no effective defense, the country is helpless as many are killed or injured (the scenes of attack survivors in hospital are pretty heart-rending), unveiling not only huge size and strength, but also “atomic breath” that incinerates everything on contact (oh wait, now I get it — Godzilla is the US!).

Emiko and her true love interest Ogata eventually convince the very conflicted Serizawa to use his “Oxygen Destroyer” technology to attack Godzilla underwater (also killing all sea life in the area), but you can see where the film is going from here — there is no solution without great tragedy and wasted opportunities. In the end (in real life, not the film), the point of view of Dr Yamane won out — Japan today strongly embraces nuclear power for its energy needs, but has shunned becoming a nuclear (weapon) power as you might expect, despite being surrounded by countries that do have nukes.

This film, thought of today as the start of the “giant monster movie” genre, was so powerful and effective in its analogy that it may well have helped convince the west to avoid using atomic weapons thereafter. The original Japanese version of Godzilla is a much darker, more thoughtful, and overall deeper film than the lighter, more entertaining genre it spawned, and was undoubtedly effective on both sides of the Pacific in its day. It was a serious attempt to illustrate the terror of atomic weapons — which thankfully haven’t been used since, though the world is still plagued with senseless wars.

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10Sep / 2023

The Raven (1963, dir. Roger Corman)

⭐️⭐️½
52-week film challenge, film 31

From the 50s and into the early 60s, Roger Corman was churning out hit-or-miss exploitation films and grind house movies. In 1960, having established a reliable reputation, he opted to do something a little different — making House of Usher based on the book by Edgar Allan Poe. The screenplay was written by Richard Matheson, art direction by Daniel Haller, and the film starred Vincent Price.

It was a critical and commercial hit, and thus the same team made another Poe-based film in 1961, The Pit and the Pendulum, and again it was a hit. In all, Corman made eight movies based on the works of Poe, with only one of them (The Premature Burial, made for a different production company) not starring Vincent Price, but rather Ray Milland.

When making Tales of Terror in 1962, the tale “The Black Cat” inspired Corman and his team to make a movie out of Poe’s famous poem, “The Raven.” In a signature move, he re-used the sets created for The Raven in his next film, The Terror (which was not part of the Poe Cycle, as the Poe-based films became known collectively). Once again, Matheson provided a script, Haller the art direction, and Vincent Price the lead — though this time, Corman brought in Boris Karloff as one of the villains, with Peter Lorre as a rival to both.

Because the segment “The Black Cat” in Tales was comedic in nature, Matheson and Corman opted to make “The Raven” a comedy as well. Although there are amusing moments throughout the film, the comedy largely falls flat because, in my view, Corman was, at least at this point, not competent at comedic timing.

Price plays Dr Erasmus Craven, a wizard and expert at “gesture magic,” who has rejected the Brotherhood of Magicians in preference to leading a quiet, nearly solitary life. His only company is his daughter Estelle (Olive Sturgess), and a coachman he employs. One evening, a raven raps at the window, Craven lets him in, and discovers the raven can talk — and is in fact another wizard, the pugnacious (and, as it turns out, alcoholic) Dr Bedlo (Lorre). With Bedlo’s nagging, Craven crafts a potion to restore him to human form, having been transformed in the first place by Dr Scarabus (Karloff), another wizard of gesture magic and other skills.

The trained raven in this film is *amazing*.

Bedlo recruits a reluctant Craven to return to Scarabus’ castle (the exterior itself reused from House of Usher, and very visibly composited into this film) to help him finish the duel. Craven’s coachman is taken over by Scarabus from afar and attacks the party, but recovers after a protracted axe-attack scene. Instead, Bedlo enlists his son Rexford (Jack Nicholson) to be the coachman, but as the journey begins Rexford is also controlled by Scarabus and nearly drives the coach off the cliffs. He recovers in time to bring the carriage to Scarabus’ castle.

Scarabus greets his guests as a perfect gentlemen, trying to undo his reputation and greeting Craven as a long-lost colleague. Bedlo, who has been rude, aggressive, and belligerent throughout the picture, demands that the duel resume, and sets about demonstrating his style of artifact-based magic, calling up a storm. Scarabus secretly gestures to intensify the storm, eventually directing a lightning bolt to strike Bedlo, destroying him.

Literally the only “magical” thing Dr Bedlow is seen to do in the entire movie.

The shocked party adjourn for the evening, being offered hospitality by Scarabus until the storm passes. Rexford, who saw what Scarabus did to bring about Bedlo’s destruction, hides in Estelle’s room, but they quickly find themselves prisoner when the door is magically locked. Rexford uses a window and the castles ledges to make his way over to Craven’s room, convincing him that Scarabus is not the charming and gentle man he seems to be.

On the way to confront Scarabus, Rexford discovers his father still alive, unharmed, and hiding. Bedlo confesses the entire plot thus far was staged to bring Craven to Scarabus so that the latter could duel against his closest rival, Craven. Meanwhile, Craven discovers that his “dead” wife Lenore (Hazel Court), for whom he has been grieving for two years, is in fact not dead, but feigned death to become Scarabus’ mistress.

Utterly not-dead Lenore (Hazel Court).

Thus, the duel is on, with the two wizards seated in fancy chairs, attacking each other magically in turn. This is by far the best part of the picture, with various practical as well as optical effects (but not really much in the way of imagination) used effectively. Bedlo, who has now decided to become a raven again, redeems his treachery by aiding Craven, leaving his son Rexford to woo the fair Estelle, and despite Scarabus’s castle and magic being destroyed as a result, even he and Lenore survive (for no good reason). All’s well that ends well.

This movie isn’t terrible, but it is … not good. Lorre’s character is just plain obnoxious, and apparently the actor ad-libbed himself a few extra lines throughout the film, leading to he and “son” Jack Nicholson not getting along, and rubbing the ailing Karloff the wrong way as well. Karloff and Price are excellent, with Price in particular showing off his effortless style and charm, which is why he’s the star of nearly all of these Poe films.

Although there are some occasional moments that might bring a smile, mostly from Lorre’s rude outbursts, there is not one single laugh to be found in this “comedy” at all, and I’m putting that on Corman’s very flat and hands-off direction. The plot is convoluted and contrived, and its pretty shocking to think that Richard Matheson had anything to do with it, but as with Corman, movie comedy just didn’t seem to be his strong suit at this point.

I often found myself watching the sets (which make the film look at lot more expensive than it was) as much as the actors, though some of the dead-body effects (for Craven’s father in particular, but also for the fake dead “Lenore”) were quite effective. Sturgess and Nicholson are merely perfunctory in their roles, while Hazel Court chews the scenery whenever she gets the chance.

Once the scene shifts to Scarabus’ castle, the film becomes more watchable, particularly the duel, but it doesn’t overcome the “failed attempt at camp humour” vibe of the overall film. The other Corman Poe films, such as Masque of the Red Death, are much better and still recommended, despite being very much of their filmmaking era.

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09Sep / 2023

Barbie (2023, dir. Greta Gerwig)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

52-week film challenge, film 30

Barbie is a fun (and much funnier than I expected) movie that takes some time to make some serious points that are top-of-mind for many people these days. What’s amazing about this film is that it also finds time to address the men in the audience, given that woman are pretty obviously its main focus.

I can certainly see why some repressed critics have brainlessly labeled the film as “too woke,” but given its box office, their silence about the consequences of being woke, i.e. going broke, is pretty deafening.

The last thing in the world I would have expected from a movie about Barbie was a really rather deep dive into both modern society and mental health. I’m hopeful that this film won’t age well over the coming decades, because that would mean we’ve made some evolutionary progress as humans. Sadly, I suspect it will be standard viewing for many years to come, and not for lack of trying.

Barbie is roughly divided into three acts: setting up the status quo in Barbie-land, disrupting that status quo via a visit to the “real world,” and finally a Busby Berkeley entertainment extravaganza about putting it all back together, only with some important lessons learned.

As a Ken … I mean, man … I’m probably not very qualified to talk about the second and third acts too much, since they are so obviously and squarely aimed at both full-grown women as well as girls. But of course, as a man, I will do so anyway.

From my perspective, a few elements of the “awakening” parts of the film are laid on a little thick, but always with some good humour behind them. But of course I would think that, since the Kens are (correctly) lacking much in the way of depth, and blunder through the stuff that should have provided them with more enlightenment about themselves.

Despite this, I did manage to grok that some of the points made needed to be hammered home hard, and not for my benefit — rather, for the benefit of women of nearly any age. While society has certainly made some progress over recent decades, this movie shows that there is still a long and multi-vehicle sparkly process before us.

So, like the film itself, let’s switch back to the more fun parts for a bit. I really enjoyed the Barbie nostalgia and the self-effacing discontinued Barbies, Kens, and pal dolls that pop up routinely in the film. The set designs and Barbie/Ken variety in Barbieland are note-perfect, and it was especially fun (for me) seeing future “Doctor Who” star Ncuti Gatwa as one of the secondary rank of Kens behind Ryan Gosling — Gatwa didn’t get much in the way of lines, but he got a surprising amount of screen time and made for a great other-Ken.

Repeated references to Midge and Allan (and yes, Skipper and even Growing Up Skipper, among others) really added to the humour, the accessories and their cameos, and the significant role Mattel itself plays in the film (even making fun of its own paucity of female CEOs and board members) surprised and delighted me. I found it very interesting that the Mattel board ends up ultimately doing the right thing in the film, but for all the wrong reasons.

Allan’s movie hair is parted on the “wrong” side compared to the actual doll, but at least his wardrobe is straight out of the box.

After a lengthy introduction to Barbie World and how static it is, Stereotypical Barbie (Margot Robbie) begins to have dark thoughts and other little breakdowns because of a mental link to the (former) little girl who played with her in the real world. She starts to perceive Barbieland as an artifice, and after a consultation with Weird Barbie (scene-stealing Kate McKinnon), she journeys into the real world to find her former playmate and fix what’s wrong.

Only things don’t go according to plan: for starters, lovestruck Ken sneaks into the car and accompanies her on her journey, immediately discovering (and falling in love with) the patriarchal society that allows for only token advances by women every now and again. It turns out Ken has a surprising number of issues for a guy with no penis.

Barbie eventually finds a sullen, self-aware tween girl named Sasha (Ariana Greenblatt) who’s mad at basically everything in her world, and her struggling single mother Gloria (America Ferrara), who as it turns out is the former little girl who owned Stereotypical Barbie. After the usual disbelief at the circumstances, they resolve to return to Barbieland to put things right — but Mattel’s board has gotten wind of Barbie’s return, so a Screwball Chase™ is required, giving Ken (armed with books about patriarchy and men’s history) time to get back to Barbieland first.

When Barbie, Sasha, and Gloria finally arrive in Barbieland, it has been renamed “Kendom,” and the Kens are in charge, and strangely fixated on brewskis and horses. The Barbies have all been brainwashed into being Stepford Wives, essentially (and yes, I’m old enough that I consider this movie something of a remake of it).

Our heroes are at first dismayed by this, but again thanks to Yoda (sorry, I mean Weird Barbie), they work out a plan to disrupt the patriarchy from within. But will things just go back to being what they were before, as the Mattel board (who have followed along) want? That’s what sets up the third act.

The Mattel board of directors, horrified to learn that Barbie is present in the real world, give chase on Venice Beach in California — the nexus point between our world and Barbieland.

Without giving the whole thing away, following the ensuing hi-jinks and reset and a lot of feminine self-enlightenment as the Barbies are de-programmed (and the Kens, in a way), everyone gets at least some of what they want. Ken breaks his dependency on Barbie’s approval, Barbie (the main one, that is) becomes a “real” woman, and the Mattel board get some hot new and more-relevant variations to sell.

It’s not a perfect happy ending, and the Kens are left a bit adrift (and still in a matriarchal society, but somewhat more balanced this time), but both the other Barbies and the Kens become more self-aware, and realise the Big Lesson that happiness can only come from within, not from other people, and that means becoming a whole person.

And then the closing credits finally bring out a version of the insipid hit “I’m a Barbie Girl” song, along with a hit parade of actual WTF Mattel alternate dolls and accessories, including a pooping dog and innumerable outfits that were actually sold across the long history of Barbie. I should mention that Rhea Perlman of all people pops up in the film in small but a very important role, and it was super-nice to see her.

Ths scene is from the beginning of the movie, and this was all it took for me to know I’d enjoy myself. No spoilers, but this one’s for the film buffs.

If you’re going to make a “super-woke” film about female empowerment in a patriarchal society, this is how you do it: with a lot of cleverness and laughs and bright colours and goofy characters. You might even learn something … even if you’re a Ken.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to buy a Weird Barbie, and a Ncuti Gatwa Ken.

Inspired by the film, someone built an actual Barbie Dreamhouse on the California coast, and turned it into an AirBnB.

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03Sep / 2023

El Fantasma de Convento/The Phantom of the Convent (1934)

dir. Fernando de Fuentes
⭐️⭐️⭐️½
52-week film challenge, film 29

This film, often retitled in the US as Phantom of the Monestary because sexism, is a good old-fashioned ghost story for adults, made in Mexico in the mid-1930s, that’s nice and creepy. By today’s standards, it moves a bit slowly, but it lays on the atmosphere nice and thick, just like I like it.

It was largely forgotten for decades because of its paucity of “jump scares” or relatively little body horror, or maybe because it’s not dumb, nor does it have El Santo anywhere in it (he was a teenager when this came out, perhaps he saw it and thought to himself “I could do that … wearing a mask!”). Happily, it was rediscovered thanks to a Blu-ray release in 2022, and has taken its place as a well-regarded classic of early Mexican horror.

It’s just a good creepy morality tale, perhaps a touch too heavy-handed, but the surprises are spaced out just right to keep you roped into the story, and the use of lighting, cinematography, and non-music sound are superb (more about the music later). There’s also a lot of silence in this, as befits a movie that mostly takes place in the Convent of Silence.

Our three leads: (L-R) Eduardo, Alphonso, and Cristina.

A married couple, Eduardo (Carlos Villatoro) and Cristina (Marta Roel), and Eduardo’s best friend Alphonso (Enrique del Campo), find themselves lost in the woods and, as the film opens, Eduardo has slipped off a ravine edge and is hanging on for dear life as Christina and Alphonso rescue him in a nice bit of foreshadowing. It’s obvious right from the get-go that Eduardo is kind of a wimp in the eyes of Cristina, who has the hots for Alphonso, and the feeling appears to be mutual — though they try to behave honourably, even though Eduardo is obviously aware of the flirting.

Once he’s back up and on his feet, they hope to find shelter in a nearby convent, only to run into a mysterious monk-like figure and his large dog Shadow (although the stranger is not named, it is Brother Rodrigo, returning to the convent). He leads them to the convent, then (of course) disappears inexplicably.

The lights are on in the convent, but at first there appears to be nobody home. Eventually the Prior (a wonderfully wizened Paco Martinez) appears, explaining that the other monks have taken vows of silence, and welcoming the trio to stay the night and find their way back in the morning. Walking through the convent, our heroes notice various oddities, such as how old-fashioned the monks appear to be, including a self-flagellating monk (in shadow), and a tumbled cabinet near a room that Alphonso attempts to straighten, but which reverts the moment his back is turned.

The “wandering around” part is reprised a few times, including once where our heroes come across a room with a dozen or so open – and empty – coffins. They also come across a door to one of the cells that is blocked, and has a huge crucifix nailed to it – to keep something out, or to lock something in?

Before they can ask any questions, they are invited to share a meal with the monks. The atmosphere is thick with tension, which only ratchets up when the convent is attacked by unseen forces, which moves the monks into action. Our trio follows along discreetly, as the monks reassemble in a “battle station” of sorts to try and fend off the unseen horror through vigorous prayer. The threat passes, and the trio quickly return to the dining room — only to find that all the bowls of soup they were eating before are full of ash now — until the monks return to the room.

The one monk who is allowed to speak but previously didn’t want to talk much returns to the dining hall and speaks mysteriously (of course) about the brothers and the threat they face. He relates a story about Brother Rodrigo that has a direct parallel to the adulterous triangle of our hapless heroes. Rodrigo lusted for his best friend’s wife, eventually murdering his friend and subsequently was consumed with guilt, returning to the convent to unsuccessfully atone for his sins. The blocked cell with the giant crucifix is, you guessed it, Rodrigo’s cell.

The door to Brother Rodrigo’s cell.

All three of our protagonists seem enraptured with the story and feel that they are under a spell of some kind, but in particular Cristina appears to (and even articulates) be most influenced by the events in a strange way – seemingly getting more and more aroused by the events they are witnessing. When the three are escorted to their three separate cells (it is a convent, after all), she goes immediately to Alphonso and makes allusions that she is as ready as she’ll ever be to consummate their relationship (it is the 1930s, after all). Alphonso is also ready, but finds the willpower to resist her under the spooky circumstances, which angers Cristina.

The mystery deepens, weirder things happen, and the film slowly builds to a deliciously scary climax (not involving Cristina, har har) in which Alphonso wrestles with his guilt, and his temptation, and works his way into Rodrigo’s cell, where the mummified body of the monk still resides, and he encounters an undead version of Eduardo and a book that drips blood, and is tortured by visions before collapsing.

Cristina and Alphonso confront their adulterous hearts

He awakes in the morning, gathers his friends (who are all okay), and they hurriedly try to leave. There’s a great denouement where they discover a caretaker (Jose I. Rocha), who doesn’t believe a word of their adventure and shows them the reality of the place, which has been abandoned for centuries. Was it all a shared hallucination, time travel, or what?

If you are in the mood for an old-fashioned ghost story, if you enjoyed the Mexican version of Dracula, or if you just appreciate well-shot, moodily-lit horror films like Frankenstein, you’re likely to enjoy The Phantom of the Convent as well. The biggest flaw in the film, in my view, is the sometimes-histrionic and mostly-stock soundtrack, which tries far too hard and too often to built tension or suggest a climactic moment that, until the film’s actual pinnacle arrives, is ill-suited to this gentler horror movie. Thankfully, it’s not there all the time, and when a genuinely climactic scene does finally appear, the music is finally ready for it.

The mummified body of Rodrigo points to a book dripping with blood, in the wonderfully creepy climax.

I think the film holds up very well, particularly given that it was made in the 1930s, though viewers should be aware that the influence of Catholicism in Mexico was strongly dominant at the time. Even better, it’s left hanging as to the ultimate fates of the three friends, though it would appear the lust factor has been forgive me – exorcised from Alphonso and Cristina.

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