CELEBRATE THE BEST OF INDIE HORROR ON THE BIG SCREEN!
Dead Northern Film Festival returns for a fourth year with a three-day horror and fantasy film festival in the heart of the UK’s spookiest city, York.
The festival will be held from Friday 29 September to Sunday 1 October 2023
The programme will feature a 50th anniversary screening of ‘The Wicker Man’, new short and feature films, live events, Q&As with filmmakers and much more!
Following last years success, which saw over 500 admissions, celebrating the best of the indie horror film genre, the Dead Northern Film Festival returns with a thrill-packed weekend.
Horror and fantasy fans are invited to the York’s City Screen Picturehouse to spend the weekend celebrating frightfully good flicks old and new.
The line-up includes a mixture of specially curated new feature and short films from the best talent in the genre, locally and internationally, as well as a celebration of some classic horrors reaching milestone anniversaries.
Folk horror will take centre stage over the weekend with 50th anniversary screening of Robin Hardy’s ‘The Wicker Man’ accompanied by a panel of special guests and a carefully selected group of folk horror shorts.
Beyond the film – Expect interviews with industry creatives
There will be something for all genre fans from creepy thrillers to blood-soaked slashers.
Joshua Lawson Co-founder and director of festival programming says of the line-up: “We’re really excited to welcome Dead Northerner’s back to our most ambitious festival yet.”
“I can honestly say this is going to be strongest line up we have had in our 4 years growing the festival, with an eclectic mix of extra fringe events and activities”.
Festival goers enjoying the City Screen in between screenings
There will also be other surprises for festival attendees including special introductions, guest speakers and, of course, the live events and awards party that has become a fan favourite.
Dead Northern Festival award winners will join past alumni such as Rob Savage (Host) who won film of the year in 2020, and Erik Bloomquist (Ten Minutes to Midnight). With the most anticipated award “Best Death” won by Liam Regan’s Troma hit in 2022 (Eating Miss Campbell) sponsored by Dead Happy.
Liam Regan accepting the award for ‘Best Death’ in 2023
Brand new to this year is the ‘Bizarre Bazaar’ a unique marketplace dungeon of brilliantly unusual vendors dedicated to fans of the horror and fantasy genre.
VIP Weekend Passes for the festival are now on sale with day passes and individual screening tickets set to be available in August when the full festival schedule is released.
One of genre cinema’s biggest classics meets its 50th anniversary this year. Within these past five decades, the already beloved hit has managed to soar further than ever and gain a reputation that many films can only dream of. The grand slam in question is none other than Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man (1973).
The Wicker Man follows Sergeant Howie (Edward Woodward) as he lands on the grounds of Summerisle, a small Scottish island, to investigate the disappearance of a child. Howie’s puritan ways are tested after being shocked at the Islander’s worship of pagan Celtic gods and behaving in an open frivolous manner, leading Howie to suspect that something suspicious lurks around the corner.
This eerie, dark, and bewitching descent into the greatest monster of them all, humanity, is a momentous feat in the world of folk horror, the genre responsible for creating the most haunting of films. In an ode to classic folk horror, The Wicker Man battles with evil grounds, sordid land and its lust for sacrifice. The 1970s hit thrives in these quintessential folkloric themes that have been utilised and weaponised for decades, yet rather than the film weaken overtime with multiple watches; it manages only to get better, which is equally thanks to the stellar performances and the film‘s unique method of building fear.
Production began in the early ‘70’s after the film’s screenwriter Anthony Shaffer and acclaimed actor/ Hammer Horror legend Christopher Lee began discussing the potential to collaborate on a film that went against the grain of the popular trend of ‘monster movies’. Soon joining Lee and Shaffer was the eventual director Robin Hardy, who was more than on board with creating a horror film surrounding cult and mythology. Looking for inspiration, Shaffer brought David Pinner’s 1967 novel Ritual to the table, which chronicled a religious police officer who travels to a small village looking to solve a sacrificial murder. After negotiations, Pinner sold the rights and production ensued.
For any ‘Ritual’ fans, it may be noted that The Wicker Man is not a direct adaption of the book, but more of a starting point, with the film, eventually forming into a tale about the woes and intrigue of paganism. The Wicker Man poses that the screen did not need to be filled with blood, guts, and gore to obtain a genuinely horrifying response from its audience. Instead, the terror alludes to the animalistic and horrific nature of the Summerisle residents. The film raises its atmosphere solely through methods of intent and interpretation, letting the viewer’s imagination conjure it. Despite how unnerving The Wicker Man’s conclusion may be, the lasting atmosphere is not one of disgust but deep-seated fear and trepidation that the most peaceful environments hold the darkest secrets.
With Lee already on board, they needed to cast the role of Sergeant Howie, the hard-mannered officer. When actors Michael York and David Hemmings declined the role, the reputable television actor Edward Woodward was welcomed onboard. With a solid story and an even sturdier cast under its belt, The Wicker Man began filming mainly along the Scottish coast before wrapping up and editing, which is a whole story within its own right…
From a contemporary perspective, many can confirm that The Wicker Man is a ‘perfect’ movie with no noticeable flaws. However, the post-production indeed travelled across rocky terrain. The studio, British Lion Films, had bought the film, and after seeing the ‘burning man’ conclusion, they demanded heavy cuts to the ending as Howie’s death was too horrid to put on screen. They suggested that the scene should continue, but instead, halfway through, a sudden downpour should occur in which the rainstorm puts out the fire. Luckily enough, the crew outright refused to make this edit and instead negotiated to cut out roughly twenty minutes of build-up scenes.
Adding to the turbulent release journey was the film’s lost footage. After the film had been released, Hardy was determined to restore his vision to its original edit, seeking the complete, original footage to restore it fully. However, he was informed that the negatives were lost, that is, until director Roger Corman (and one of the previous potential distributors) still had a copy, saving the day and leading to a ninety-six-minute version being released in 1979. As time has gone on, multiple versions have been released – an extended cut released by Canal+ in 2001, a limited edition signed version from Anchor Bay in 2005, and most recently, The Final Cut from StudioCanal, which Hardy described as one of the most accurate representations of what he wished The Wicker Man was when it was first released. Unfortunately, the exact carbon copy and precise original cut still have not been found, but that does not hinder what we already have.
With all of the commotion and re-edits, where does The Wicker Man stand 50 years later?
The Wicker Man boomed onto the scene with reviews from prestigious outlets, including Variety, The New York Times, and Los Angeles Times, all praising the film’s slow-burning dread and evocative atmosphere. Decades later, distinguished sources such as Empire and The Guardian ranked the film as one of the best horror movies ever, and for a good reason. The film is not only a genre-defining piece of cinema, a folk horror classic, and a definitive part of British film and media; it is also an intense, burdensome, and wholly unhinged example of how aura and a menacingly slow buildup can leave a lingering mark of fear that does not rely on jumpscares, but our own worst enemy – the imagination.
There are multiple ways to read The Wicker Man, which are all equally frightening. There’s the aspect of nurturing nature, feeding the land souls to prevent disruption. Then there is the religious perspective, where one could comment on how the film elicits fear based on the infatuation of high powers and cults, leading to the abandonment of moralities to serve a spectral being. And then there is the more sinister realisation – forget about individualising fear within the sins of the land, forgo the collective power of cult thinking. What truly makes The Wicker Man claw at the viewer’s skin and then nestle its horror within their being is how mundane the film portrays monstrosity to be. Recalling back to early production stages, Lee, Shaffer, and Hardy wanted the uncanny to thrive amidst a background of sincerity where there were no ghosts, zombies, or knife-wielding maniacs. The horror needed to come from within the Summerisle residents’ souls, not via a weapon or some dressed-up ghoul. The film’s manifesto speaks to the horror within the everyday, an apparent typical atmosphere that holds unearthly secrets. The Wicker Man makes you uncomfortable and on edge from the very first moment. However, it is not until the very last scene that our suspicions are confirmed, and an epiphany reveals itself.
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Robin HardyÕs THE WICKER MAN (1973). Courtesy: Rialto Pictures/ Studiocanal
Robin Hardy’s THE WICKER MAN (1973). Courtesy: Rialto Pictures/ Studiocanal
The lens of folk cinema captures the evil beneath the soil that haunts the land and infects those who rebel against it. Those unfortunate souls who dare taint the grounds suffer greatly, leaving devastation in its wake and causing hysteria and havoc amongst worried souls, simultaneously cultivating rich growth for the horror in lore, myth, and legends. It is an alarming yet alluring ethos that propagates the success of folk horror.
Over the years, folk horror has seen a significant boom in popular horror cinema, with the likes of The VVitch (2015) and Midsommar (2019) and the equally successful but far more underrated Kill List (2011) and The Ritual (2017). With these films holding supreme status in modern horror, a deep dive into the origins of the folk horror subgenre has never been more pertinent.
Where to begin…
Folk horror holds its roots in nearly every country. It isn’t easy to pinpoint a specific religion that holds the key to folk cinema, with the genre belonging to many cultures. Folk derives from folklore, translating to individualised mythology from various societies. What has become known in mainstream media as ‘folk horror’ with all of its iconography and archetypal symbolism is, at the crux, derivative from British lore. For example, the bones of folk horror that audiences have come to know and love today are birthed from Pagan rituals; it’s the profound meaning of life and death, the cycles of nature, and the importance of worshipping a higher power that amalgamates with the genres eerie rhetoric that provides such influential works.
The Unholy Trinity
Every reign of horror has its champions. Folk horror’s genre-defining entries can be found in The Unholy Trinity, consisting of Witchfinder General (1968), The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971) and The Wicker Man (1973). Mark Gattis first coined the term in the BBC docu-series A History of Horror in 2010, which was soon adopted as the official definition of folk horror’s primary instigators. Each entry into the Trinity is entirely unique and somewhat different from one other despite their blanketing together (which can be quite the metaphor for how broad the scope is on folk cinema).
Michael Reeves’s Witchfinder General chronicles the self-appointed witch-hunter Matthew Hopkins (Vincent Price), following his misdeeds throughout small rural villages across East Anglia. The cruel barbarism that follows in the wake of Hopkin’s actions creates a structure that can only be described as a mob-like ruling where sovereignty is not earned and equally placed but instead stolen by whoever holds the most power. Witchfinder General depicts Hopkins as he storms in and does not simply command authority but instead takes it from his victims.
British folk horror storylines thrive in the social divide seen in the likes of Witchfinder General; the films allude to how the most significant threat does not strictly adhere to paranormal entities and ghoulish ghosts; instead, it’s the same civilisation that one belongs to. This essence of fearing your fellow neighbour and evil lying within the home is further explored in Piers Haggard’s The Blood on Satan’s Claw.
The motivations behind much of the folk horror seen in the mid-1970s surrounded the hippie counterculture that dominated the landscape during that time. The decade saw a rise in young people declaring a belief system that went against the common consensus. They protested the war, dabbled in the increasingly popular substances arriving in the common market, and openly expressed the desire to change the system. The Blood on Satan’s Claw follows a group of young people in a small village being overcome and possessed by the devil himself after a skull is found underneath the town’s ground.
The cult of demon-worshipping children is shown infiltrating and recruiting other members to the group until eventually banding together to cause ultimate destruction. The film can be easily read as an on-screen recreation of the disharmony that was arising at the time, with the notion of sudden societal uproar being one of the critical themes of the film.
Out of the trinity and the entire catalogue of British folk horror, one of the most crucial, successful, and effective films has to be The Wicker Man. Robin Hardy’s classic follows the residents of Summerisle as they complete a ritualistic sacrifice for the land to ensure a fruitful harvest. The Wicker Man remains the most influential folk film and one of the most important horror films in general across British cinema. Throughout the film, the main character is Summerisle. It’s a symbolic living and breathing organism that devotes itself to the people, and in return, the residents nourish it with sacrificial flesh, blood and bones.
Beyond The Unholy Trinity
Amidst the horticulture of the well-renowned Trinity was a string of TV specials that have become ingrained in the thesis of British folk horror. Television, possibly more so than cinema, is entirely reflective of its audience. Britain is known for its blunt and bleak outlooks and humour, meaning that much of the fictitious media to come from the country relies on the nation’s unique nihilistic framings.
Whistle and I’ll Come to You (1968), Penda’s Fen (1974) and Red Shift (1978) are just some of the many television specials that captured Britain’s gloomy atmosphere with the traditional folkloric spirit. With these television specials also came a form of notoriety that allowed folk horror to be available to a broader audience than film allowed. When speaking of the times, not everyone had the time or ability to go to the cinema and view these fantastical folk films. However, many had access to a television set where these spooky entries would interrupt the standard Saturday night entertainment specials to display the most tempered and sinister of frights.
It was a time of paranoia, with the events in the news being scarier than any film or book anyone could have ever witnessed. With this, a level of immunity was stripped back, children would walk past paper stalls with the sinister headlines in full sight, and the daily news report would blare on the radio over breakfast. The presence of these shows was momentous. It was a chance for ghastly stories to enter the home and invade the keep calm and carry on attitude. Folk horror uses the presence of rural locations, familiar faces, and supposedly ‘quaint’ bonds as a vessel for actual, brutal disharmony to break through. The prettiest village harboured the most terrible secrets; ancient curses lay underneath the silent fields, and the longheld family unit could be disrupted anytime.
Today’s context
Folk horror has never been more alive. The messages and symbolism seen in the likes of the Trinity still resonate from a contemporary perspective. For example, The Wicker Man is celebrating its 50-year anniversary this year, yet its connotations are more significant now than ever. With every harvest, the Summerisle residents must offer a human sacrifice to appease the ground’s thirst. In its rawest form, the film’s discourse surrounds how society’s actions profoundly affect earthly structures; the soil beneath us is not forgiving and requires care. Similarly, if we take a look at the whole Trinity, the entire pathology of every film can be sourced back to how the ecological landscape holds great power, and with great power comes a right to respect.
This aspect of the Anthropocene is and will always be a landmark in understanding folk horror. The relationship between land and human intervention is at the heart of many folk entries. As The Wicker Man implies, the people no longer live on Summerisle as simple occupants. They are intrinsically connected to the land. They must offer a sacrifice; otherwise, their well-being will wither with the ground beneath them.
Legacy
Folk horror has birthed an entire subset of movies. Even films that do not necessarily fall into the lines of folk horror weaponise the standard folk format to convey its harrowing message. Take, for example, In the Tall Grass, the 2019 horror based on Joe Hill and Stephen King’s 2012 novella. The film implies that crops hold some form of supernatural power over those who dare to step foot on the land. Even The Blair WItch Project (1999) has a folkloric undertone, with the group of explorers being purposefully misled in a forest due to a presence that controls the woodland. Akin to nature itself, folk horror is everywhere, it’s inescapable and has never been more potent.
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With its origins dating back over 40 years ago, five films in its repertoire, and a string of classic catchphrases, The Evil Dead movies are a certifiable success. Adding to this stellar reputation is Lee Cronin’s bloody and bold contribution to what might just be one of the most beloved horror series. With all the hype and pressure of delivering a horror that lives up to its well-received predecessor Evil Dead (2013), it can safely be assumed that Cronin must’ve certainly felt the heat.
The fifth instalment is not a carbon copy of any of its predecessors. Besides the odd pov camera angle, chainsaw weaponry, and the essential Necronomicon, Evil Dead Rise is totally original, forgoing predictability in favour of focusing its attention on the unexpected, making a ruse out of the whole narrative. With that being said, Cronin throws in plenty of callbacks to classic horror movies, making use of throwbacks to elicit a nod of appreciation from its seasoned audience and to introduce new fans to the delights that await them. The Exorcist (1978), The Shining (1980), and The Thing (1984) are just some of the many classic movies that Cronin sprinkles in.
The film takes the burgeoning concept of reallocating classic movie franchises to the city, hoping to conjure widespread, uncontainable fear. Whilst many Evil Dead fans may have been apprehensive about the big city move, the apartment complex setting makes for a dreadfully claustrophobic atmosphere that suffocates and annihilates every step of the way.
Evil Dead Rise gives way to many nerve-racking scares; there’s certainly an abundance of frights that will have you looking over your shoulder for a day or two and develop a lifelong fear of door spy holes! At the crux of Evil Dead Rise’s success is the film’s toe-curling violence that starts at the very beginning of the film, not letting you have the chance to breathe, let alone enjoy an escapist moment or two. The terror is fast-paced and beyond brutal; the sheer quantity of bloodshed is not just generous but almost entirely repulsive (in the best way possible).
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“This woman has just cut, chopped, broken, and burned five men beyond recognition – but no jury in America would ever convict her!”
I Spit on Your Grave was considered so heinous, so ludicrously cruel, that it earned its spot as one of the most notorious video nasties that caused a tidal wave of commotion in Britain circa the 1980s. However, whilst it is now a celebrated classic and an iconic exploitation-revenge horror, Meir Zarchi’s career-defining film is still radically controversial.
This quintessential genre film follows Jennifer Hills (Camille Keaton), a writer from the bustling borough of Manhattan, looking for some solitude to write her first book. Jennifer’s rented cabin in the rural countryside proves quaint and peaceful until a local group of barbaric misfits line her up for the most disturbing fate. In what can only be described as the unholiest actions, the gang repeatedly assault her and leave her for dead. This simple revenge story is one that is now rather commonplace for many movies, particularly those on the darker side, and whilst this arc has been through its fair share of cinematic cycles, I Spit on Your Grave remains one of the chief instigators of this gruelling subgenre.
Despite the harrowing brutality of it all, I Spit on Your Grave has quite a bold backstory. It all started when filmmaker Zarchi came across a young woman who had been raped in a public New York park. Bloodied and stripped of her dignity, Zarchi helped the woman to the police station in hopes of justice. However, the officers nitpicked her statement by criticising her slurred speech, despite the fact that the attack had left her with a broken jaw and unable to speak. From this moment on Zarchi was compelled to tell a story of such great injustice with a horrific twist that many argue offers a warped sense of vengeance and a bold take on catharsis.
The film’s venom-filled storyline helped infuse Jennifer’s character arc with a level of brutality that oozed throughout the whole film, with I Spit on Your Grave’s cinematic detailing offering covert signalling and interesting gazes that positioned the horror in a rather confrontational perspective. This aspect of antagonising the viewer and making them see the true horror of the crimes completely banished the video nasties’ campaign claims, which included warnings that films such as I Spit on Your Grave were a sadistic “poison”.
Even all of these years later, it’s clear to see that I Spit on Your Grave is a far cry from tempting. For example, during Jennifer’s mistreatment, the camera continuously shifts the lens to focus on the perpetrator’s face at a low, flat angle as if the camera were taking on the victims position – the spectator becomes physically aligned with Jennifer with the assailant symbolically lying atop of the viewer. It is an assaultive and unforgiving lens that does not lend any prowess to Jennifer’s situation. The audience is exploited, they are made to feel victimised. It’s a horrifying fate that forces a reaction of gut-wrenching terror, it is undoubtedly dreadful. Zarchi’s cinematic detailing abandons any suggestion that the film is titillating and encourages similar crimes. Alternatively, I Spit on Your Grave is so utterly cruel that it makes the viewer recoil in shock at the mere thought of such a reality.
And it’s this exact reason as to why I Spit on Your Grave is considered a definitive example of classic horror cinema 45 years later. The harrowing scenes are far from influential, they are in fact so antagonistic that the very thought of it becoming a reality is sickening. Everything from the aforementioned cinematography to the commendable performance from Camille Keaton is what allows this 1970s triumph to be unforgettable. It’s a brutal film that manages to stand the test of time and still inflict filmic wounds upon its audience.
I Spit on Your Grave was eventually given a DVD release with a sign-off from the BBFC in 2001, with the censorship officials enforcing necessary cuts to tone down the now-debunked eroticisation. In 2010, the organisation took another look and admitted that the cuts were overboard, yet they still concluded that nearly three minutes of edits were needed. Just three years ago in 2020, the board were brought back to the table to discuss the infamous film, and yet they still refused to officially release the entire uncut version in the UK.
Despite the rather rocky reputation that I Spit on Your Grave has obtained over time, the film has blossomed into a franchise, with the well-received remake hitting screens in 2010. Over the years, another three movies were made, all detailing the archetypal revenge storyline that Zarchi’s original helped established. With the influx of vengeance horror’s dominating a large part of the genre, it’s essential that we must not forget its ancestry, including films such as The Last House on the Left (1972), Death Wish (1974), and I Spit on Your Grave (1978).
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Coming from the strange and dark mind of Brandon Cronenberg is what is most likely to be 2023’s most lavishly viscous film, Infinity Pool. With its salacious themes and even more explicit visuals, Cronenberg’s latest adventure into the darkest depth of the human psyche has racked up quite a reputation. Countless connections have been made surrounding the film’s similarity to Parasite (2019), The Menu (2022), and even the smash hit TV series The White Lotus (2021-). However, whilst Ininfity Pool takes the satirised elite elements in its stride, the film is so incredibly bleak and crushing that any straight ties to other works are fruitless in describing just how effective Infinity Pool really is.
The film follows Em (Cleopatra Coleman) and James (Alexander Skarsgård), a young couple desperately needing a getaway as they retreat to La Tolqa, a private beach resort. However, instead of the expected rest and relaxation, the trip soon takes a turn for the worse as they come across the mysterious Gabi (Mia Goth).
Cronenberg has that unique talent of creating such a sensual yet complicated atmosphere, bursting at the seams with many metaphors and fleshy symbolism. Infinity Pool transfuses every frame with foreboding dread, making the viewer crave the unfolding terror. The audience dives straight into pure scopophilic terrains by the film’s climax. Further espousing Infinity Pool’s measures of stunning extremity is the film’s somewhat unhinged plot that remains shocking even after a second watch.
As Em and James retreat deeper into the chaotic narrative, the film becomes a tightly wound bundle of absurdity where gut-wrenchingly raw and harsh truths thrive. Infinity Pool is best described as a cinematic enigma that has to be experienced.
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In March of last year, Ti West returned triumphantly to the horror genre with X, a brutal tale of rural slasher madness combined with an eccentric dose of eroticism. X was quite the success story, with reviews falling in the film’s favour. Also stirring up the film’s limelight was Mia Goth’s dual performance as Maxine, an aspiring starlet, and Pearl, an elderly woman with a burgeoning lust for life. Both characters were hungry for fame and desire, but what left audiences baffled more than anything was the sheer enthusiasm in Pearl’s persona; she was a force, a powerhouse, and, most importantly, incredibly complex. It arose the question of what or who made Pearl a horrific but inspiringly passionate person.
With what many have described as an Oscar-worthy entry, and one of the best character studies in recent years is West’s latest feature, Pearl, the second in the soon-to-be ‘X’ trilogy. The film takes place in Texas circa 1918, where inside a strict rural farmhouse lives Pearl, a young woman desperate to live the life that glitters after falling in love with the hustle and bustle of Hollywood. With the constant knockbacks ruining her chance of fulfilling her dreams, she finally snaps, and all hell lets loose.
Pearl is truly an exercise in the importance of performance. Just as Jack Nicholson made The Shining (1980) and how Kathy Bates made Misery (1990) quintessential classics, Goth dominates the screen and commands your attention and forces the viewer to fall under her mesmerising spell. With every ounce of blood spilt is Goth’s ability to be quite the anti-hero whilst still being frightening enough to create that typical distance that makes you simultaneously fear and connect to her.
Further carrying Pearl’s impressive calibre is the copious layers of cinematic charm that West mediates throughout. The setting of the rural farmhouse is a boiling pot of sheer terror as the dusty fields turn from camouflaged greens to crimson as Pearl and her murderous antics escalate. The scoring is beyond performative as the orchestral, grandiose strings swell with each fleeting moment. The cinematography and editing is a fierce force that beautifully captures every visceral moment.
Even in the most chaotic of scenes are shown in such an impassioned and earnest way whilst still digging its claws deep into the gritty horrendous psyche of Pearl.
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The finale, the third act, the big reveal. These are all desperately important points in a film that opens the door for renowned reputations and unforgettable experiences to be had. Psycho (1960) revealed that Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins) was acting as his dead mother all along, and The Sixth Sense (1999) unveiled that Bruce Willis was in fact a ghost for the whole film – both memorable and commendable. However, amidst all the ghostly apparitions, slasherific slayings, and zombified herds, no other horror makes the viewer as bewildered and utterly bemused as Sleepaway Camp (1983).
Robert Hiltzik’s Sleepaway Camp chronicles one treacherous summer at Camp Arawak. People go missing only to show up dead, bullies thrive amidst the teenage hierarchies, and one young girl reveals a troublesome, horrifying secret.
In the fall of 1982, Hiltzik along with a relatively small crew and an even smaller budget took to a quiet lake on the rural side of New York to film a movie far from tranquil. The production was met with its fair share of setbacks, including the storyboard being completely thrown off via scheduling difficulties, and the surrounding forgery turning into an autumn landscape rather than that summer green they had hoped for. However, just as most 1980s horror movies show, Hiltzik was not put off as himself and the crew slugged through the unpredictable path of independent filmmaking. But the reward was certainly worth it, as 40 years down the line its cult following is continuously growing and fans remain awed at the marvellous gnarly slasher that still instils shock value all these years later.
The film works due to its exceptional practical effects, solid yet ‘unique’ performances, and THAT ending!
As with many films from its time, the post production team were rarely afforded with the luxury of CGI- although as visual evidence supplies, practical effects supremely reigned as champion between the two. Out of all the fantastic effects, two that stand out above the rest are the ‘arrow-neck’ and the ‘boiling pot kill’. Ed French and Ed Fountain, the special effects team, have spoken about the infamous arrow-to-the-throat death, which refuses to rely on cutaways and clever editing to show a sharp arrow piercing through an unlucky victim’s jugular. Due to the duo’s cryptic trickery, it has been heavily debated as to how an effect this realistic and hard to pull off was ever completed in the low budget climate.
As the decades have gone on, the pair have finally revealed their secret. A Mechanical rig was latched underneath a prosthetic neck, hiding a foldable arrow that would unravel like a springboard when hit with a prop arrow, providing the illusion of a clean cut stabbing.
The boiling pot kill showcases a drum of ferociously hot oil being dropped all over an Arawak kitchen worker’s body, creating the most disgustingly graphic burns. French and Fountain pulled off this visceral effect with plaster moulding, heavily piled on stage makeup and sticky gelatine on top to give it that freshly peeled skin look.
Sleepaway Camp is home to two of horror’s most oddest, but fascinating characters – Judy (Karen Fields) and Angela (Felissa Rose). Judy plays Arawak’s resident mean girl, a brutally cruel, beyond bitchy, and impossible not to laugh at character that helps make the film the classic that it is today. Judy is filled with one-liners, with some of the best including “She’s a real carpenter’s dream: flat as a board and needs a screw!”. Field’s cold demeanour and awfully annoying (although deliberate) smirk as she hurls abuse is somewhat equally irritating and entertaining.
Then there’s Angela. Over the years Rose has become a horror icon, with ques lining her stand at every mass horror movie event. She plays her role with such conviction, and not at any one moment does the viewer understand her actions, Angela’s personality is a true enigma. But of course, there’s a reason why Angela is written as a rather empty, sketchy person… She is the Camp Arawak killer.
After the film hits its climax and plenty of blood has been shed, Hiltzik ends the film with a silent revelation showing a nude Angela standing tall with the most menacing of expressions, revealing an unexpected penis that stands out amongst her feminine energy throughout the rest of the film. Before analysis resumes, it is crucial to highlight the film’s criticisms. Upon its release 40 years prior, many have noted that Sleepaway Camp can ensue a message of trans people being violent simply because of their make-up. However, the contemporary perspective has allotted Sleepaway Camp as being a welcomed, queer-coded film that instigates an important conversation.
Sleepaway Camp’s opening illustrates a fatal incident, with two men, John and Lenny, taking John’s children (Angela and Peter) on a boating trip, which results in a boat crash leaving only one of the offspring alive. After the event, the tragically orphaned ‘Angela’ is taken in by their odd Aunt Martha, who seems suspicious but fairly caring. The third act reveals that the surviving child was not Angela, but instead Peter. Martha did not wish to care for a boy, she wanted a little girl, leading to Martha raising Peter as his dead sister Angela.
Sleepaway Camp is rooted within the tragedy of forced gender dynamics, placing Angela (actually Peter) in a body that they do not wish to conform to. The film speaks of the horrors that come from misgendering, and the trauma inflicted on youth who are forced to live in a gender that is socially placed on them. Whether Hiltzik initially interpreted the film to compose such a message, what matters is that from a retrospective view, the queer community has taken the horror film as an important piece of cinema that touches on canonical and wrongly tabooed subjects. Sleepaway Camp was ahead of its time, and it has finally reached a place of acceptance where its recaliment stands for something that rightfully means an awful lot to many people.
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Only a year has passed since audiences have heard Ghostface say “what’s your favourite scary movie?”, yet for fellow Scream fans and keen slasher-seekers, the latest addition to the franchise has been a long time coming. But was the wait worth it?
When it comes to the world of Scream, nearly everything has been said and done, and many fans have been apprehensive that the cycle is nearing its full circle. However, whilst spoilers narrow an all-revealing response, it can be assured that Tyler Gillett and Matt Bettinelli-Olpin deliver a hefty punch of nail-biting tension, with the thrill factor at an all-time high.
Scream is intrinsically woven with Woodsboro, the seemingly cursed town. However, just as the early days in the franchise sent the Ghostface-fighting crew on a state crossing mission, Scream VI sets its eyes on the city sights as the latest string of victims takes to ‘The Big Apple’. The New York setting both ups the ante and adds a whole new level of existential nihilism to the mix, stripping the ease of containment away. In Woodsboro, Ghostface was confined; somewhat unable to tread fear into wider paradigms. With Bettinelli and Gillet spinning a modern flare on the antics, Ghostface is unbelievably stringent, violent, and more frenzied than ever. In fact, it would not be a far cry to say that Scream VI is the bloodiest film of them all, with every kill being utterly brutal and beyond capable of making every viewer wince.
In its purest form, the world of Scream is a big whodunit mystery, a hardcore version of ‘Guess Who’, where we use the characters as pawns to root out the evil force within the group. And don’t forget the main rule of this cruel pastime – it’s always someone you know… Speaking of filmic traditions, Scream VI is literally plastered with horror easter eggs and nods to genre greats, with references to Psycho, The Babadook, Ready or Not, Giallo, Friday the 13th, The Ring, Argento, Peachfuzz, Carpenter, and of course all of the previous Ghostface killers.
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Grab some popcorn and get comfortable because In Search of Darkness is back!
In Search of Darkness Part III is here to rightly resurrect the 1980s and discuss all things slashers, splatters, and sleaze-fests, digging into what many would describe as the golden age of horror cinema.
In the 1980s, horror movies were blood-ridden and sheer full-throttle rides into extreme horror, taking the exploitation factors seen within 1970s grindhouse flicks and the desensitised sensibilities that were on the rise during the eighties to create films oozing with sex and violence. The subtext during this time was feral. The UK was up in arms with the video’s nasty panic, and the public was hungrier than ever for violent feasts. In Search of Darkness perfectly captures all of this with an energetic discourse that keeps the 5hr 38min runtime refreshing.
The segments follow in similar succession to its predecessors, allowing each year within the decade to be easily accounted for. Joining the dense sequences of film explorations are the stellar interviews that accompany each section and offer a range of experts’ and aficionados’ opinions on the genre greats from the decade.
The sheer beloved devotion that the documentary shows is a dedication to horror cinema, almost like a bloodied love letter to all things slashers that interestingly enough refuses to gatekeep the decade’s work to its original fans. In fact, In Search of Darkness welcomes new viewers and curiosity-seekers with open arms, abandoning the harsh mentality that younger generations only flock to the latest blockbusters and jumpscare-ridden frights.
Each segment, whether it’s cataloguing the greatest horror villains of all time, describing the most horrific death scenes from the classics, or revisiting the outstanding practical effects of the decade, every minute is covered by the best experts in the field. It will be of no surprise to anyone who is a keen viewer of the previous documentaries that Part III includes the notorious legends from horror cinema, including the likes of John Carpenter, Robert Englund, Barbara Crampton, Joe Dante, Linnea Quigley, Felissa Rose, Caroline Williams, Tom Savini, Bill Moseley, and Tom Atkins.
In Search of Darkness Part III is an encyclopaedia of 1980s horror that belongs on every horror fan’s radar.
Catch ISOD 3 right now on shudder, or order the physical release this via CreatorVC.
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