Reality Behind the Fantasy: The Autobiography of Caroline Munro - Book Review

I have always held a real soft spot for Caroline Munro. For a film fan of a certain vintage, she is woven into the very fabric of our formative years. She is the definitive Scream Queen in Captain Kronos and Dracula A.D. 1972; she is the lethal Bond Girl Naomi in The Spy Who Loved Me; and she is the quintessential fantasy heroine (and one of my first crushes) from The Golden Voyage of Sinbad.

I still frequently revisit these films—especially the Harryhausen classics, given my love for his creature effects (a passion shared by Munro herself, who serves as a Trustee for his foundation). I recently missed a chance to meet her at the Hell Tor Festival in Exeter, despite living nearby, so I jumped at the chance to read her autobiography, Reality Behind the Fantasy. So, does the book live up to the icon?

If you are looking for a dry, day-by-day chronological account of a life, this might not be it. Instead, Munro’s book reads like a "Greatest Hits" album. It is a collection of the specific life experiences, chance encounters, and instincts that shaped her singular career path across the worlds of Bond, Hammer Horror, and Sci-Fi.

Munro is philosophical about her journey. She reflects on the "Sliding Doors" moment where she chose the role of Naomi in Bond over Ursa in Superman II. She notes:

"We all have moments in life where we look back and wonder what might have been... It’s a natural part of the human experience."

She concludes that following her instincts rather than a "grand plan" was the right way to go and one of the most touching aspects of the book is Munro’s candor about her early years. Despite an idyllic home life with a supportive mother and a father shaped by WW2, she struggled academically. She opens up about her battle with dyslexia, which wasn't fully understood at the time, leading to a lack of confidence in the classroom.

However, once she moved to Brighton Art College, things fell into place. The book paints a vivid picture of the era—riding her bicycle "Blue Bird," seeing The Beatles perform in Brighton before they were global superstars, and eventually stumbling into the "Face of the Year" competition that launched her modeling career.

The anecdotes from this era are gold dust for pop-culture fans. From a romance with Colin Blunstone (The Zombies) to declining a kiss from photographer David Bailey (telling him he was "too old"!) and a chance encounter with a magnetic, pre-fame David Bowie, Munro was right in the center of the cultural zeitgeist.

Naturally, the bulk of the book covers her legendary film career. Horror fans will appreciate the deep dive into her time at Hammer. She speaks with immense respect for Sir Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, crediting them with helping her overcome imposter syndrome during the filming of Dracula A.D. 1972.

Her stories are often hilarious and self-deprecating. One highlight is her mortification at accidentally burping in front of Vincent Price after a pâté breakfast on the set of Dr. Phibes - only for the horror legend to laugh it off and join in.

She also touches on the guerrilla filmmaking styles of her later cult hits like Maniac and The Last Horror Film, sharing the gritty reality of filming in Times Square without permits. Whether it was getting stung by a bee during her first scene with Roger Moore or nearly crashing in a helicopter for a Lamb's Navy Rum advert, Munro portrays the industry as equal parts glamour and danger.

The book takes a serious turn as Munro discusses her personal life, including her marriages (first to Judd Hamilton, then to George) and her recent battle with breast cancer. She speaks highly of Maggie’s, a charity that supported her, adding a layer of vulnerability to the glamour.

She ends the book on a poignant note regarding her recent work on the convention circuit and with Talking Pictures TV. She realizes that acting isn't just about entertainment; it is about,

"helping people escape, heal, dream, and feel."

Overall, I really enjoyed my time with Reality Behind the Fantasy as it wasn’t a heavy academic study of film; it was more like a conversation. It felt honestly earnest and breezy and I felt that it captured the voice of a woman who has remained grounded despite being a fantasy icon for decades.

So, if you are a fan of Hammer, Harryhausen, or just the golden era of British film, this is well worth your time.

LINK- The Golden Voyage of Sinbad - Cult Film Review

LINK- The 7th Voyage of Sinbad- Cult Movie Review

LINK- Into the Unknown Exhibition Shines Bright at the Barbican

LINK- Ray Harryhausen: Titan of Cinema Virtual Exhibition Experience- Review

LINK- Children of the Stones: Cult TV Series Review

LINK- Tom’s Midnight Garden: Cult TV Review

LINK- On And On And Colston ( Or, How We Kinda Sort of Learned to Talk About the Legacy of Colonialism and the British Empire)

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Pure Invention- Book Review

Ginger Snaps Back : The Beginning - Cult Horror Review

The Ginger Snaps trilogy holds a unique place in the horror genre, particularly for its innovative approach to the werewolf mythos. While often overlooked, the series offers a compelling blend of body horror, social commentary, and psychological depth.

The original Ginger Snaps was released in 2000 and was widely lauded for its sharp, incisive take on lycanthropy as a potent metaphor for female puberty. The film cleverly intertwined the grotesque aspects of becoming a werewolf with the equally unsettling realities of menstruation, burgeoning sexuality, and the alienation often felt by teenage girls. It's a coming-of-age story wrapped in a visceral horror package, making it both relatable and terrifying.

Its sequel, Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed (2004), pivoted significantly, delving into the realm of psychological horror. The film explored themes of addiction, isolation, and the insidious nature of obsession. The horror here was less about the physical transformation and more about the mental anguish and the loss of control, making it a darker, more introspective experience.

That left me with just one more film in the trilogy, Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning (2004). Released in the same year as Unleashed, this film takes an unexpected turn by serving as a prequel, transporting us back to 19th-century Canada. What makes it particularly peculiar is the re-casting of Katharine Isabelle and Emily Perkins in the exact same roles of Ginger and Brigitte, albeit as ancestors. When they find themselves lost in the woods, with Brigitte injured in a bear trap, they are rescued and sent to a remote fur trading outpost. There they feel a sense of dread as everyone seems afraid of something as they are hunted down... but what could it possibly be?

This film leans into a more traditional gothic horror aesthetic, complete with isolated settings and a pervasive sense of dread. The claustrophobic wooden fort and narrow, shadowy corridors offers a great background to this familiar story. However, the narrative choice of choosing the same actresses and putting them into this olde world setting creates a strange sense of déjà vu, as the familiar sisterly dynamic and the onset of lycanthropy plays out against a new, historical backdrop with Valley Girl vibes - it's weird and creates a strange disconnect.

Having said that, I enjoyed my time with the film and, while it lacks the sharp metaphorical edge of the first film or the psychological intensity of the second, its willingness to experiment with its own established lore, and its commitment to re-exploring the core relationship between the sisters in a different era, makes it a fascinating, if somewhat odd, conclusion to the trilogy.

LINK: Summer, Fireworks, and My Body

LINK: A Nightmare on Elm Street Boxset - Cult Movie Review

LINK: The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

LINK: The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK: Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

The Argument for Videogames As Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction

Walter Benjamin's seminal 1936 essay, 'The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,' explored the changing nature of art in the modern era. At the heart of his argument was the concept of the 'aura' of an artwork. He believed that this aura was the unique presence of a work of art in time and space—its history, its physical location and its originality. In other words, this aura was what gave art its authority and authenticity.

Benjamin's concern was that mechanical reproduction, through technologies like photography and film, stripped the artwork of its aura. When a work of art, like the Mona Lisa, was endlessly reproduced in books, on posters, and now on the internet, its unique physical presence was diminished. The Mona Lisa currently sits in the Louvre, with its centuries of history and its physical dimensions and is a different experience from the high-res images available on any screen. Benjamin’s belief was that the 'aura' of the original was lost in its infinite reproducibility and I kind of get what he means. For me, the first time I saw the Mona Lisa I was surprised by its relatively small size. The endless reproductions had created an expectation of grandeur that the physical object couldn't live up to and so the aura of the original had been diluted by its reproduction.

This concept of the 'aura' has a fascinating parallel in the world of videogames as, by their very nature, they are works of mechanical reproduction. A single game, like The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, exists as millions of identical digital copies. There is no ‘original’ physical cartridge or disc that holds the aura of the game. Yet, the experience of playing a videogame is profoundly personal and unique.

In videogames, a different kind of aura emerges, one that is not tied to the object itself, but to the player's subjective experience. The aura of a game like Elden Ring isn't in the code or the disc; it's in the hours spent exploring its world, the struggle against its bosses and the personal triumphs and failures. The game's narrative and world are static, but each player's journey is unique. The aura is not a property of the artwork, but a product of the interaction between the player and the game.

This shift suggests that in the digital age, the concept of aura is no longer solely tied to the physical object. Instead, it can be found in the unique, personal engagement we have with a work. In a videogame, we are not just passive observers; we are active participants with agency. We bring our own history, our own skills, and our own emotions to the experience. The aura of the game is not something lost in reproduction, but something created anew with each individual play-through.

In this sense, while Benjamin was concerned about the loss of aura in mechanical reproduction, videogames show us a new possibility. They suggest that even in the age of infinite copies, art can still have a powerful and unique presence—a presence that is not found in the object itself, but in the personal, lived experience of the player. Except with NFTs- that crap was a grift and deserved to die a quick death!

LINK- Pure Invention: How Japan's Pop Culture Conquered the World- Book Review (and Personal Reflections)

LINK- The Rise of Retro Gaming During Covid

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Blood, Sweat and Pixels- Book Review

LINK- Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK- On And On And Colston ( Or, How We Kinda Sort of Learned to Talk About the Legacy of Colonialism and the British Empire)

LINK- ‘Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire’ LINK: Elden Ring- Videogames As Art

Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed - Cult Film Review

Having thoroughly enjoyed the original Ginger Snaps for its unique blend of horror, coming-of-age themes, and sharp social commentary, I found myself drawn to complete the trilogy, wanting a sense of closure to the compelling narrative that I was now invested in.

Luckily, the second installment, Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed was available to stream so I thought I'd give that a watch to see if it lived up to the original.

Well, the film is pretty much a straight continuation from the ending of the first story with the focus on Brigitte (Emily Perkins). As she grapples with the death of her sister and her own impending transformation, she navigates the social and systemic complexities of the rehabilitation center, all whole being the relentlessly pursued by a new, more feral werewolf.

While the raw, visceral energy of the first film was somewhat tempered, Unleashed delves deeper into the psychological torment and isolation that comes with the curse. Having watched the film it reminds me of the American McGee's videogames Alice and sequel Alice: Madness Returns which takes us on a more gothic and psychological version of Lewis Carroll's original tale. Here, Ginger is gone in body but not in spirit as Perkin's Brigitte struggles along trying to prove that she is not mad while, Ginger, like an evil Jiminy Cricket, teases and aims to turn her as she navigates the facility trying to prove that she isn't a drug-addled mental health patient.

The film's staging is more cinematic with lots of careful staging and stylised angled shots. The make-up budget has improved proved as Ginger and Brigitte look more glamorous, even though Perkins' character is supposed to be an addict to the antidote. Sure, there are fewer werewolf money shots and far fewer animatronic tranformations but the whole production looks very good, probably because it is mostly set in a dilapidated rehab clinic.

Perkins is excellent in her role as a young woman who is struggling to keep the curse at bay while everyone else thinks she is mad. She plays wide eyed confusion very well and her swivel eyed looks for escape are amazing but I must mention the performance of a very young Tatiana Maslany as Ghost. Even in this early role, Maslany's talent for embodying complex, often troubled characters is evident. Her portrayal of Ghost, a seemingly innocent but deeply disturbed young girl, adds a layer of unsettling tension and unpredictability to the narrative. It's fascinating to watch this performance now, knowing the incredible range she would later display as a star in the critically acclaimed series Orphan Black, where she masterfully played multiple distinct clones, and more recently, her entry into the Marvel Cinematic Universe as She-Hulk. Her presence in Ginger Snaps 2 serves as a compelling early showcase of the acting talent that would thrive later.

While perhaps not reaching the cult classic status of its predecessor, Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed is a worthy, if grimmer, entry into the trilogy. It provided a necessary continuation for those invested in the characters' fates and offers a chance to see burgeoning talents like Tatiana Maslany in earlier roles. Sure, it has some questionable material that was of its time, like when a psychologists notes 'Lesbian?' when Brigitte talks about the horrific side effects of turning into a werewolf but, for the most part, nothing too egregious. Overall this film is a great watch and has stood the test of time pretty well.

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK: Summer, Fireworks, and My Body

LINK: A Nightmare on Elm Street Boxset - Cult Movie Review

LINK: The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

LINK: The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK: Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

Finding Art in Pixels: Why Virtual Galleries Capture Our Hearts

There's something uniquely captivating about stepping into an art gallery or museum. That hush, the careful lighting, the feeling of ideas unfolding around you – it's an experience I cherish whenever I visit these special places. What’s truly fascinating is how this very essence has been beautifully, and often powerfully, recreated within videogames.

You’re probably familiar with the trope: a dilapidated museum in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, a testament to a world lost and you'd be right as these dystopian galleries are incredibly common. They serve as poignant relics of a lost past, silent witnesses to what humanity once was before everything crumbled. They're often brimming with lore, their exhibits subtly weaving narratives of bygone eras, explaining the very devastation we are navigating. The preserved beauty within these crumbling walls provides a stark, almost heartbreaking, contrast to the chaos outside, forcing us to reflect on the nature of destruction and the enduring power of creation.

This iconic scene in The Last of Us II is a brilliant case in point.

But what's truly wonderful is that the appeal of a virtual gallery isn't limited to grim futures. Far from it, in fact! Many games, irrespective of their genre, incorporate these spaces for a myriad of reasons, allowing us to find art in unexpected places.

Think about exploration-focused games or intricate puzzle adventures. Here, a gallery might be more than just scenery; the art itself could be a vital clue, a piece of a larger puzzle, or simply an aesthetic delight designed to enhance the game's atmosphere. Then there are narrative-driven experiences, where a museum visit can be a quiet moment for character development, a backdrop for a pivotal plot reveal, or a space for deep contemplation that enriches the player's connection to the story. Even in ‘Walking Simulators’, where the journey and environment are paramount, a well-crafted art space can elevate the experience into something truly profound and thought-provoking.

But what is it that makes these digital sanctuaries so compelling? I think that it's the sheer freedom of exploration. Unlike real-world galleries with their closing times and bustling crowds, virtual ones offer a private, unhurried experience. You can linger over a piece for as long as you like, examining every detail without interruption. It's also a testament to the creativity of game developers, who can either meticulously recreate famous works or conjure entirely new artistic styles that seamlessly integrate into their game worlds. This allows for a unique form of digital preservation and artistic expression, turning games into interactive canvases in their own right.

Some of the videogames I’ve played which have included museums, galleries and other liminal spaces include:

  • Horizon Zero Dawn: Forbidden West - We see it just before you confront the final big bad

  • Elden Ring - The corrupted Moon Goddess in the library

  • The Last of Us 2 - The museum with dinosaurs and astronaut helmet

  • Enslaved: Odyssey to the West - The pyramid is a tribute to a pre-apocalypse world

  • The Evil Within 2 - The murderer’s art gallery

  • Deadly Premonition - Your police companion becomes a murderer’s art piece

  • Kairo - You are the exhibit in a brutalist Danielweski House of Leaves type maze. It reminds me of the Brutalist structure of the Southbank Centre

  • The Forever Labyrinth - Inkle’s strangely compelling Google Art and Culture project.

  • Zelda: A Link to the Past - The secret book hidden in the library and obtained by running into the shelves.

  • Decarnation - The art gallery with your sculpture that a creepy guy is examining a little too closely

Ultimately, whether they're a solemn nod to a lost world or a vibrant celebration of creativity, art galleries in video games offer a unique kind of escapism. They invite us to pause, to think, and to expand our own ideas, proving that the pursuit of art knows no bounds – not even the pixelated ones.

LINK: Folk Horror in Videogames

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK: Summer, Fireworks, and My Body

LINK: The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

LINK: The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK: Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

Puppet Princess - Cult Manga Review

Like many of us, I often find myself tumbling down the rabbit hole of obscure anime, and that's precisely how I stumbled upon the OVA Puppet Princess. Intrigued by the mysterious title, and with no prior knowledge, I decided to dive in and what I found was a surprisingly engaging, albeit brief journey.

The story of Puppet Princess centers on a seemingly naive and clumsy young woman, named Princess Rangiku, traversing a war-torn landscape, burdened by a massive box on her back. Her mission? To exact revenge on the  tyrannical Lord Karimata, who not only decimated her family but also seized her father's land and, more notably, his cherished collection of intricate giant Karakuri puppets. Along her arduous journey, she gains a ninja companion called Manajiri, and together they face a series of formidable adversaries, all leading up to the final confrontation with the 'big boss' to achieve her revenge.

Clocking in at a concise 42 minutes, Puppet Princess is a pretty good watch as it offers a unique fusion of steampunk aesthetics, traditional Japanese puppetry and some pretty dramatic fight action. Released in the early 2000s, it boasts a distinct visual style and beautifully blends traditional 2D animation with subtle applications of CGI, creating a visually rich experience. This is no surprise as it was produced by TMS and Toho (and another studio I don't know much about called Shogakukan).

While the premise is undeniably intriguing, the OVA's limited runtime presents a double-edged sword as the plot progresses at such a rapid clip that it leaves certain plot points feeling a bit rushed or underdeveloped. However, it's a testament to the creators that despite this constraint, Puppet Princess still manages to deliver a complete and satisfying narrative arc when a limited 6-part series may have suited it better.

So overall, if you're an anime enthusiast looking for something off the beaten path, with a unique visual flair and a quick but impactful story, Puppet Princess is definitely worth seeking out.

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK: Please Save My Earth - Cult Manga Review

LINK: Thomas Was Alone Video Game Vinyl Soundtrack Review

LINK: Akira Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK: The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

LINK: The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK: Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

Sister Midnight - Cult Film Review

For many of us, Bollywood isn't just a film industry; it's a foundational piece of our cultural identity, a vibrant, if sometimes predictable, force that has soundtracked our lives.

That deep-rooted familiarity is precisely what makes Sister Midnight such a startling and exhilarating experience—it’s the maverick film we desperately needed to shake the stagnation of mainstream Indian cinema.

At its core is Radhika Apte, an actress much like Emma Stone in that her career choices consistently show a more adventurous bent. Apte is fearless, choosing scripts that prioritize unusual vision over commercial safety and it is her presence here anchors a story that effortlessly mixes the deeply personal with the gloriously absurd.

The film takes the familiar cultural starting point of an arranged marriage and the modern malaise of ennui, and then violently shoves them off a cliff into the bizarre territory of vampirism and the raw, unflinching search for authenticity. These are waters few mainstream Bollywood productions dare to tread and the film is all the better for its audacity in portraying it in such an unusual and joie de vivre fashion.

What truly elevates Sister Midnight is its jaw-dropping aesthetic ambition. Writer-director Karan Kandhari's debut is a well-crafted visual feast, forging a true genre hybrid in Bollywood. There are elements of an introspective art film, a road movie, folk horror and stop-motion surrealism, all with gentle nods to Ozu, Kurosawa and Buster Keaton. Yup, it's a melange that works surprisingly well. This is all bolstered by an expertly placed soundtrack. This combination of styles and substance isn't just experimental; it’s extraordinary—it tells a story that literally could not be told any other way. Even as the film twists through its darkest and strangest corners, it never loses its pulse.

Sister Midnight is a brilliant, unsettling, and ultimately joyous experience. If there is any justice, this film won't just do well—it will establish itself as a genuine cult classic, carving out a new, surreal and authentic path for Bollywood’s future. Everyone likes masala films but there is always room for an original palette cleanser like this.

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK: Please Save My Earth - Cult Manga Review

LINK: Thomas Was Alone Video Game Vinyl Soundtrack Review

LINK: Akira Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK: The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

LINK: The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK: Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

Lynchian: The Spell of David Lynch - Book Review (and Some Personal Thoughts)

I am a bit of a fan of John Higgs, having read all of his previous books, which include The KLF: Chaos, Magic and the Band Who Burned One Million Pounds, The Future Starts Here: An Optimistic Guide to What Comes Next, William Blake vs. The World, I Have America Surrounded: The Life of Timothy Leary, Love and Let Die: Bond, the Beatles and the British Psyche and Dr. Who: Exterminate/ Regenerate.

I loved reading all these books as the subject matter Higgs covers in each is so distinct; his work often takes many turns that have often bamboozled me, yet kept me invested in his concepts of "Reality Tunnels" and "Circumambient Narratives" and the like. I've always thought that Higgs seems to be a Humanist at heart, and he gets to the core questions we all ask: What is our purpose, and how does this affect the narrative we tell ourselves?

Higgs starts with the outpouring of love that spread around the world, both online and in the real world, when David Lynch's death was announced. Public memorial sites popped up in a couple of places, including Bob's Big Boy restaurant, and items as varied as doughnuts, coffee cups, photos of Laura Palmer, and models of the baby from Eraserhead were left by fans. These spontaneous outpourings of appreciation for a lived life are rare, but some of the most prominent in my lifetime have been for Princess Diana, David Bowie and Keith Flint. Lynch affected people profoundly who felt connected through his works, be it film, TV, art, or music. He was a true Renaissance Man who lived the Art Life, and Higgs examines this.

He begins with a quick biography, highlighting the story of the naked, bloodied woman he and his brother saw in their youth in a small town in Boise, Idaho. The image of a beautiful, abused woman would be a motif that carries through much of his work, as was his idealized, charmed, white picket fence childhood life, but all through a mirror darkly.

Higgs looks at how Transcendental Meditation (TM) was something Lynch practiced, but it wasn't what gave him his creativity, as he had started filming Eraserhead a year before discovering TM. Rather, the practice helped him to realize that you had to go with the flow and that not everything has to make sense, as life often doesn't make sense—life was numinous. Lynch showed the darkness in the world but believed in the beauty of existence; this is what underlines the Lynchian Cinematic Universe. So, "In Heaven, everything is fine," indeed, mash potato-cheeked Lady Behind the Radiator!

Higgs looks at Lynch's thought process and doesn't pretend to understand his methodology but states rather simply that Lynch liked the ideas he had and often went intuitively with his feelings rather than some high-brow process. To quote early Simpsons:

His dreamlike logic and sense of playfulness didn't come from his meditation and dreams but more from his waking dreamlike moments when he let his mind wonder. He was able to settle the "chattering monkey" of the mind and let his subconscious take over, something many screenwriters cannot do as they want a clear narrative with a traditional five-story arc.

Lynch's success following Wild At Heart and Twin Peaks is considered, as is the backlash after Fire Walk With Me. However, it has been reappraised and is considered a masterpiece, especially post #MeToo, where abuse against women and power play has been much more openly talked about. Lynch continued unabated and continued to produce wonderful work that still pushed boundaries. Lynch himself became a bit of a brand; people bought into him and his product, but it was not for everyone—and that's okay.

Lynch's work wasn't without its issues for some: he didn't feature many Black actors or LGBTQ+ people in his works at all. Lynch himself stated that he was not overly concerned with prejudice, identity politics, or other culture wars but rather larger themes of humanity like "What is evil?" and "Where does the ill that people do come from?" Whilst I get what he was saying, I also understand that representation matters, and sometimes you need to bring people into the fold of your wider-themed work. However, we do know that he was a friend to the trans community when he had Agent Cole (played by himself) say to trans character Denise Bryson (played by David Duchovny), "I told those clowns [at the FBI] to fix your hearts or die."

Higgs then looks at the Lynchian motifs that occur throughout his work including: coffee, doughnuts, the black and white chevron floor, lush red curtains, flickering lights, the buzz of electricity, doppelgängers, and trees. The chevron floor particularly hints at the Lynchian Cinematic Universe.

The penultimate chapter looks at Twin Peaks: The Return and the complexities of making it. It was a bold move on Showtime's part, and it really paid off. Lynch mastered his form and distilled all his experience into an 18-hour movie that meandered and riveted in equal measure.

Higgs is an excellent writer, and his skill in conveying a complex life with verve and energy is compelling. The fact that he presents Lynch, flaws and all, as a true pioneer who sought the Art Life and lived for his work is a true gift.

I would highly recommend this book, as this is a singular life lived, and we may never know the like again so who better than Higgs to cover it?

LINK- Twin Peaks: The Return Series Review

LINK- Secret History of Twin Peaks: Book Review

LINK- Twin Peaks: The Final Dossier Book Review

LINK- The Midnight Library and the Idea That You Can’t Go Home Again

LINK- Ulysses 31 Retro Soundtrack Review

LINK- Blood, Sweat and Pixels- Book Review

LINK- The Offworld Collection- Book Review

LINK- Shadow of the Colossus- Book Review

LINK- Japan: My Journey to the East

Ginger Snaps - Cult Film Review

There are some films that just stick with you, even if you've only ever caught glimpses of them. For me, one such film has always been Ginger Snaps, now considered a bit of a Canadian cult horror gem. Released at the turn of the millennium, the film became a whispered legend among a couple of my friends. However, for years, my experience with it was frustratingly fragmented. Back in the late 90s, my friend Carlena had a knack for finding the most obscure and strange film, she was doing a Film Studies degree after all, so her house was our unofficial cinema, a place where we'd huddle around a flickering TV, armed with popcorn and a healthy dose of teenage bravado. Ginger Snaps was one of those VHS tapes that made the rounds. I remember catching unsettling scenes – a bloody nose, a tail transformation hand, the intense dynamic between the two sisters – but never the full narrative. Life, as it does, always seemed to interrupt. Now, nearly 25 years later, I've sought to rectify this oversight in my filmography. Armed with a proper streaming service (Amazon Prime) and an uninterrupted evening, I settled in to watch Ginger Snaps from start to finish. Now, let me tell you, it was every bit as good, if not better, than those fragmented memories suggested.

For the uninitiated (or those with fogged remembrances), Ginger Snaps follows the morbidly fascinated, death-obsessed sisters Brigitte (Emily Perkins) and Ginger (Katharine Isabelle). Their pact to die together before hitting sixteen is violently interrupted when Ginger is attacked by a werewolf on the night of her first period. What follows is a brilliant, bloody, and darkly humorous exploration of lycanthropy as a metaphor for the horrors of puberty, female adolescence, and the terrifying changes the body undergoes.

What truly elevates Ginger Snaps beyond a typical creature feature is its sharp, intelligent script. It doesn't shy away from the grotesque, but it uses the horror to amplify its themes. The bond between Brigitte and Ginger is the beating heart of the film, a complex tapestry of co-dependency, loyalty, and burgeoning resentment as Ginger's transformation pushes their relationship to its breaking point. Perkins and Isabelle deliver phenomenal performances, embodying their roles with a raw authenticity that makes their bizarre predicament feel eerily real.

The practical effects, a hallmark of horror from that era, hold up remarkably well, adding a visceral punch that modern green screen and CGI often misses. The transformation sequences are genuinely unsettling, a slow, painful unraveling of humanity that mirrors the awkward, often painful experience of growing up. But while it's undeniably a horror film, it's also laced with a biting wit and a surprising amount of heart.

Finally seeing Ginger Snaps in its entirety was like finding the missing pieces to a captivating, gruesome jigsaw puzzle. It's a film that was ahead of its time in many ways, tackling feminist themes within the horror genre long before it became a more common trend. Sure, it is of its time so some of the dialogue is a bit too edge lordy and clunky as was the style at the time ('On the rag' and 'He wants to get down your pants, stupid!') and the casual way a drug dealing dropout can attend a girl's PE lesson and talk to a student does not show the teaching profession in a good light, but it's smart, stylish, and genuinely unsettling, proving that horror doesn't need a massive budget to be impactful. In fact, many film genres, especially horror, can actively benefit from the economy of design due to budgetary constraints.

If, like me, you've only ever experienced Ginger Snaps in tantalizing fragments, or if you've never seen it at all, I implore you to give it a full watch. It's a cult classic for a reason, a howling good time that's as relevant today as it was when Ginger first started to shed her skin.

The Masterpiece Within: How Our Lives Paint the Games We Play

Every picture tells a story, and sometimes, those stories are crystal clear: the raw intensity of rage, the quiet ache of sadness, the profound warmth of love, or the heavy burden of grief. Yet, regardless of the emotion, a narrative always exists. It's not enough for these portraits to simply exist; they meticulously capture fleeting moments, immortalizing emotions and transforming transient lives into something permanent, whether public or intimately shared. In a world of constant change, these images stand as points where time truly stands still, offering a profound way to hold onto something that, in reality, can't last forever.

In a surprising parallel (for some), the same can be said for the digital canvases we call videogames. We often talk about the stories games tell us, the narratives meticulously crafted by developers. But what about the stories we tell, often without even realizing it? We bring so much of ourselves to the games we play – a rich tapestry of cultural background, personal experiences and emotional baggage. This isn't just about making choices within the game's given framework; it's about how we interpret, react, and ultimately, become an integral part of the narrative itself.

Think about it: even when two people play the exact same game, experiencing the identical code and graphics, their journeys are profoundly different. It’s a bit like that thought-provoking line from the musical Matilda, where she wonders if our individual perceptions of colors are truly the same. Do we all see "red" in the same way? Similarly, do we all feel a game in the same way?

When you navigate a desolate landscape in a survival game, your ingrained sense of hope or despair might shape your approach. A character's moral dilemma might resonate deeply with your own past experiences, influencing your decisions in ways a developer could never have predicted. The thrill of victory might be amplified by a personal struggle you're overcoming in your own life, or a moment of loss in-game might echo a real-world sadness, making the virtual experience surprisingly poignant.

In this sense, we, the players, are the artists, and the game is merely our canvas. With every decision, every interaction, every moment of triumph or setback, we are painting a unique picture – one that exists not just on the screen, but within the landscape of our own minds and emotions. Our individual interpretations, biases, and joys transform the static code into a dynamic, personalized piece of art. The game hasn't changed, but we have and through us, the game becomes a reflection of our own intricate, ever-evolving stories. There have been many games which have had me reflecting on them long after the credits have rolled including:

  • Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons - love and loss

  • The Walking Dead Season 1 - found family and grief

  • Ico - connection and resilience

  • Shadow of the Colossus - love, denial and self-sacrifice

  • Nier and Nier: Automata - philosophy and the human condition

  • Journey and Abzu - spirituality and humanism

  • What Remains of Edith Finch - the interconnectedness of us all

  • Everyone Has Gone to the Rapture - existential dread and cosmic bliss

  • Florence - love and nostalgia

  • Monument Valley II - parental love

  • Venba - family dynamics, code switching and identity

  • Decarnation - female bodily autonomy and the male gaze

Videogames are a beautiful, often unconscious collaboration: the developers build the world, and we, through the lens of our lived experiences, infuse it with meaning, making each playthrough a truly bespoke piece of art. And isn’t that wonderful!

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK: Please Save My Earth - Cult Manga Review

LINK: Thomas Was Alone Video Game Vinyl Soundtrack Review

LINK: Akira Soundtrack Vinyl Review

LINK: The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

LINK: The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK: Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK: Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

Devilman: The Birth and Demon Bird - Cult Manga Review

It’s funny how certain pieces of media stick with you, especially those you probably shouldn't have seen at a young age. Years ago, I was handed a couple of VHS tapes by my uncle, introducing me to the world of manga and anime. One was the legendary Akira, which blew my thirteen-year-old mind (and still perplexes me today!), and the other was Devilman. While Akira gets all the accolades, I recently decided to revisit the 1987 OVAs—The Birth and The Demon Bird—and found a fantastic, bloody blast from the past.

Created by the masterful Go Nagai in the 70s, the Devilman saga includes several manga series and a significantly sanitised 39-part TV series. My experience, however, was purely with those two OVAs.

The Birth sets the stage as high schooler Akira Fudo merges with the demon Amon, taking on the terrifying mantle of Devilman to fight the rising demonic tide threatening Earth. The core conflict, the struggle to maintain his humanity while possessing a demon’s power, is what drives the initial narrative, leading to a series of gruesome encounters.

The second OVA, The Demon Bird, sees Akira growing into his new reality. However, a horrifying descent into the sewers to confront a creature that traps its victims' souls in perpetual torment reminded me just how dark this series dared to be. When his home is invaded by demons and then he is confronted by Sirene, the eponymous Demon Bird, Akira's work seems to be cut out for him

Watching these OVAs again after more than three decades was pure, unadulterated nostalgia. What truly struck me was how well the animation holds up. While the character designs have that distinct, older manga aesthetic, the bestiary is where the animators truly unleashed their creativity—grotesque, bloodthirsty and utterly fantastic.

Speaking of the past, the English dub—the way I first experienced it—is wonderfully of its time. It’s definitely cheesy in spots, but it delivers with an earnest, fun abandon. The dialogue is home to one of the greatest (and most shocking) line deliveries in anime history: "I'll rip your head off and shit down your neck" and "Maybe you should let me soak your t**s for you!" These line alone are a chef’s kiss of 80s anime edginess.

Another element that had remained vividly in my memory was the music. The track playing in the club during Akira's initial, visceral transformation into Devilman has been embedded in my brain for decades. I found myself humming along as viscera sprayed across the screen.

The lore, too, was more layered than I remembered. Sure, the discussions of Dante’s Inferno and the Sabbath are ritualistic, edgelordy nonsense when you pull them apart, but they add a surprising layer of nuance to the world. It’s throwaway fun, yet it adds to the deeply enjoyable, over-the-top atmosphere.

The casual nudity is a minor caveat, typical of a lot of older anime. It's not overly gratuitous, especially given the permissive standards of the time, but it's a reminder of how times and sensibilities have thankfully changed.

In the end, revisiting Devilman was an amazing experience. It's a hyper-violent, deeply weird, and undeniably fun piece of anime history. If you appreciate the craziness of 80s and 90s animated classics, this is a must-watch that perfectly captures the spirit of an era.

Daughters of Darkness - Cult Film Review

The dark and disturbing real-life account of Elisabeth Bathory, a Hungarian noblewoman who gained notoriety for the heinous deeds of murdering virgins in order to bathe in their blood to gain eternal youth, is well known. It is a dreadful tale of one of the earliest known serial killers and has been turned into several films, possibly most famously the Hammer Horror Ingrid Pitt vehicle Countess Dracula. However, I'd heard of another film version of the tale but a more controversial one: Daughters of Darkness. Suitably intrigued I tracked down a copy and, vegan sausage roll in hand (that's not a euphemism - I was just hungry) I settled down for a watch.

This big screen version introduces us to a modern incarnation of Bathory in form of the glacially glamorous Delphine Seyrig. Arriving at a desolate, off-season seaside hotel in Ostend, Belgium, with her beautiful and enigmatic young 'companion,' Ilona (a stunning turn by Andrea Rau), the Countess quickly sets her sights on the hotel's only other guests: a troubled pair of newlyweds, Valerie (Danielle Ouimet) and Stefan (John Karlen).

What follows is not a typical horror narrative, but a sophisticated, slow-burn seduction. The Countess, with her legendary legacy of perversion, senses the fragility and deep-seated dysfunctions within the young couple’s marriage. Seyrig, with her impossibly serene and seductive elegance, dominates every frame, her performance a masterclass in quiet menace and manipulation.

The two women subtly and deliberately insinuate themselves into the newlyweds' lives, unleashing a frenzy of suppressed violence, repressed sexuality and depraved desire. This version of the vampire myth is less about fangs and crosses and more about the seductive power of liberation and freedom from the shackles of convention.

Beyond the magnetic performances of its quartet of lead actors - the film’s visual artistry is paramount to its success; Daughters of Darkness is a glorious feast for the eyes. The deliberate pace allows the viewer to absorb the atmospheric set design of the grand, empty hotel, complemented by Eduard van der Enden's stunning, moody cinematography. With vibrant splashes of symbolic red, black, and ethereal blues, the film showcases elaborate sets and truly amazing costumes. Seyrig's wardrobe alone is a legendary aspect of the film’s decadent, timeless style.

Harry Kümel’s 1971 Belgian-French-West German co-produced film is one of the most exquisitely mesmerizing and transgressive films in the adult horror canon; it is a sumptuous, highly erotic psychosexual drama that moves artfully beyond simple titillation to create something truly intriguing and unsettling.

I did a little research after watching the film and found that its overt exploration of lesbianism, sadomasochism and dysfunctional sexuality made it a controversial sensation at the time - it was a picture that genuinely shocked both arthouse audiences and grindhouse crowds worldwide. However, in the decades since, this once-outrageous film has not only endured but grown in stature. Now viewed through a more appreciative modern lens, Daughters of Darkness is admired less for its sensationalism and more for its intelligence, style, and proto-feminist undercurrents, which posit the Countess as a potential liberator for Valerie from a deeply patriarchal and abusive relationship where she is being gaslit by her cad of a husband.

I can now see why this film is considered a true cult classic, revered today as a jewel of European Gothic horror whose style, sophistication, and psychological depth place it leagues beyond its contemporaries. It is a mesmerizing masterpiece.

Häxan - Cult Film Review

I've always been intensely interested in people's beliefs, cultures and the resulting social structures - it's what drove me to pursue a degree in Anthropology at UEL all those years ago. So, when I heard of a silent film from the 1920s that looked into witchcraft and the hysteria surrounding it I knew I needed a piece of that. On a cold October evening, with a cup of tea and a pack of digestives at hand, I settled down to watch director Benjamin Christensen’s Haxan.

The film is a quasi-documentary, exploring the history of witchcraft and superstition from the Middle Ages right up to the 1920s, but it's really a hybrid: part academic lecture, part lurid horror film and part social commentary.

The film opens with an extended sequence that acts just like a historical lecture, using close-ups on images of woodcuts, paintings, and texts to explain medieval cosmology and demonology.

Christensen then leans into a serious, chapter-based presentation, complete with illustrations and diagrams, with utterly terrifying and graphic dramatic re-enactments. These vignettes depict everything from Satanic Sabbaths (with the director himself gleefully playing the Devil) to the brutal torture and confessions of the poor women accused of witchcraft. It’s a shocking, grotesque and unflinching look at the persecution of women and the instruments of torture used to extract their false confessions. It is terribly horrific how these women were treated and living life - being in constant fear of being accused on being a witch - must have been an incredible hardship. Apparently, these scenes made the film so terrifying that it led to it being heavily censored or banned in many countries upon release.

The film's final section is particularly intriguing from an anthropological perspective. It attempts to re-contextualize the alleged 'witchcraft' of the past through the lens of early 20th-century psychology, suggesting that many of the supposed witches were simply victims of mental illness, particularly the diagnosis of hysteria. While this comparison feels dated now, I appreciate that the director was seriously attempting to use contemporary scientific thought to understand historical human suffering and belief system through an effort to contextualise the culture and paranoia.

For a film made over a century ago, one of the most remarkable things about Häxan is how surprisingly modern its technique feels. It’s incredibly prescient; the mix of archival imagery with a guiding, didactic narrative voice (conveyed through intertitles and the occasional wooden stick pointer on screen) is strikingly similar to the style of a contemporary video essay you’d find online today - just obviously more low-key due to the technology available at the time. There are a variety of visual tricks and techniques used including reversing film footage, stop motion and some early animation to convey the information in interesting ways so the 1 hour 45 minute runtime whizzed by.

Watching this, I am reminded of the works of Adam Curtis, in that both use a vast array of historical source material and dramatic re-enactment to construct a compelling, often unsettling, argument about how historical forces (like religious fear and misogyny) shape our present.

Häxan is an essential watch in my opinion as, it's not just showing you facts; it's weaving them into a visually arresting, polemical argument with a definite point of view.

Overall, Häxan is a shocking, brilliant, and still-relevant piece of cinema that has stood the test of time and shows how little has truly changed in the century since its creation.

Dark - Complete Season 1 to 3 Review

I'd often swiped past Dark when facing options overload on various streaming platforms. I'd heard of the show, mentioned in articles and online communities, but it was my brother's enthusiastic recommendation that finally convinced me. Given our shared appreciation for formative media—from The Mysterious Cities of Gold and Ulysses 31 to the works of David Lynch, Twin Peaks and classic video games on the Master System and Megadrive (we were Sega kids growing up) —I knew that if he liked it, I probably would too.

Dark, with its three seasons and 26 episodes, begins with a familiar premise: a child vanishes in the small, quiet German town of Winden. But the show quickly pulls the rug out from under you. When a second child disappears and the mystery becomes entangled with the local nuclear power plant and a similar case from 33 years ago, the narrative explodes into something far more complex and compelling.

The series lives by the tagline, ‘The beginning is the end, and the end is the beginning,' as it delves into 'wibbly wobbly, timey wimey' stuff. It demands your full attention, weaving a complex web of time travel, paradoxes, Nietzsche's Recurrence, the Lunar-Solar Cycle and profound family secrets. Yet, despite its intricate nature, the story remains remarkably coherent. The pacing is fantastic, moving at a great clip without ever feeling rushed. It's a gripping narrative that explores not just the mystery of the disappearances but the deep, generational impact they have on the town and its inhabitants.

The acting is phenomenal all round with all the generations of actors bringing their A-game. I can't pinpoint the standout actor but there is one scene in season 1 that sent shivers down my spine; it was Martha's (Lisa Vicari's) Ariadne dialogue delivered in a school play whilst Jonas, her love interest, enters a labyrinth inside the cave:

"The old world came to haunt her like a ghost that whispered to her in a dream how to erect the new world, stone by stone. From then on, I knew that nothing changes. That all things remain as before.

The spinning wheel turns, round and round in a circle. One fate tied to the next. The thread, red like blood, that cleaves together all our deeds. One cannot unravel the knots.

But they can be severed. He severed ours, with the sharpest blade. Yet something remains behind that cannot be severed. An invisible bond."

When she breaks down, the resolve over her missing brother crumbling, it is a truly heartrending moment delivered with a chef's kiss moment as Jonas finds a mysterious door after following a red string through the tunnels.

The story is complex and, as well as amazing dialogue, is enhanced by the show's incredible visual and auditory elements. The cinematography by Nikolaus Summerer is moody and atmospheric, with a palette dominated by dark, earthy tones that perfectly capture the feeling of a town burdened by its secrets throughout the different time periods. The constant rain and the dark, looming forest create a sense of claustrophobia and foreboding—the best I've seen since the moody Pacific Northwest of Twin Peaks or Louisiana's oppressively hot and steamy bayou in True Detective season one.

Equally impressive is the series’ soundtrack by Ben Frost which is not just background noise but a vital part of the storytelling. The music, featuring a haunting mix of ambient tracks and perfectly placed licensed songs, underscores the show’s tone. From the unnerving score that builds tension to the surprising needle drops (Fever Ray's Keep the Streets Empty For Me being a particular favourite of mine), every soundscape feels deliberate and impactful. It's a soundtrack that stays with you long after the credits roll, a quality that surely cemented the show's cult status.

Dark is a testament to the power of a well-crafted mystery. It’s a show that trusts its audience, rewarding careful observation with a richly layered story that unravels like a puzzle box. The series masterfully weaves together time travel, family secrets, Determinism vs. Free Will and cosmic fatalism, creating a complex narrative that demands and rewards attention.

It gets you thinking (at least in my head) about heady concepts such as Tatarology, sin, the immortality of the soul, reincarnation, Michael Huemer's theory of the plausability of reincarnation, eternal recurrence, Pascal's Wager, Nietzsche, Pythagoreans, divine punishment and contrapasso, the Golden Rule, Lord Yama/ Anubis/ St. Peter, impercievable divinity, redemption and the River Lethe.

When comparing Dark to other media, TV-wise, it shares the eerie, atmospheric dread of the original French series The Returned, as well as the intricate, character-driven puzzles of The OA. But, unlike Lost, which often introduced more mysteries than it resolved and spun its wheels for chunks at a time, Dark is a much leaner, more coherent experience. It's a show with a clear destination, where every detail, no matter how small, eventually finds its place within the grand, interconnected timeline.

The show’s strange, unsettling tone and its focus on a small, insular town grappling with bizarre events evoke the surreal vibes of the video game Deadly Premonition, itself a love letter to Twin Peaks. Meanwhile, specific scenes, like the hauntingly poignant school play, have the emotional resonance and sense of fated tragedy found in Life Is Strange: Before the Storm. Additionally, the alternate timeline narrative and the threads that connect everyone and everything felt distinctly Alan Wake 2. For readers, the series echoes the labyrinthine narratives of Jorge Luis Borges's The Garden of Forking Paths, where multiple timelines and possibilities collide. It also shares the unsettling, meta-textual dread of Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves, where the setting itself is a puzzle house.

So, if you're a fan of cerebral sci-fi, intricate storytelling, and shows that stick with you long after you've finished them, do yourself a favour and give it a watch—you won't regret it!

Folk Horror in Video Games

Folk horror is, at its core, the anxiety of modern life encountering deep, forgotten tradition. It thrives on the sense of isolation, the dread that comes from realizing the local rules - the "old ways" - are unknowable and dangerous to the outsider.

These principles translate seamlessly into gaming, forcing the player to confront entities and rituals born of the soil itself. The following titles stand as prime examples of how video games have mastered this unsettling, often ritualistic, strain of horror and dark fantasy.

The Ritual and the Outsider

The most direct interpretation of folk horror often places the player as a definite outsider entering a deeply self-contained system. Project Zero 2: Crimson Butterfly is a classic example. Set in the isolated, fictional Japanese village of Minakami, the game's horror is entirely derived from local tradition: the ritual of the twin sacrifice and the subsequent curse that creates a spiritual, inescapable darkness. The player must use the Camera Obscura to fight ghosts bound by this tragic, archaic folklore.

Similarly, Resident Evil 7 takes the familiar trope of the English pagan cult and transposes it onto the humid, isolated Louisiana bayou. While utilizing modern bio-weaponry, the horrifying Baker family and their estate function as a self-contained, rural cult built around a grotesque new "folk god" (the Mould). The player, Ethan, is the ultimate outsider, dragged into a world defined by the Bakers' horrific, self-made traditions.

We also have Deadly Premonition, in which FBI Agent Francis York Morgan is on the case when a young woman is ritually murdered The King in Yellow style.

In a more traditional British vein, The Excavation at Hob's Barrow grounds its folk dread in the English landscape, following an investigator drawn to a remote, windswept town where ancient burial mounds and local legends hint at an older, malevolent force tied to the soil, perfectly capturing that parochial, Wicker Man-esque dread.

Myth, Fable, and the Dark Forest

The genre expands to include games that actively explore and twist European folklore. These titles use the visual language of fairy tales to mask a core of darkness and ritualistic fear. In the Scandinavian-inspired world of Röki, the player navigates a frozen wilderness populated by creatures drawn from Norse mythology, turning classic fables into an environmental adventure where the line between myth and reality is dangerously blurred.

Echoing this Scandinavian focus is Year Walk, a deeply unsettling, cryptic horror adventure based entirely on the Swedish tradition of Årsgång—a dark ritual journey into the wilderness to glimpse the future. Its isolation and reliance on deep, regional superstition make it a masterpiece of interactive folk dread.

Bramble: The Mountain King takes the most visually arresting route, pulling Nordic fables—trolls, gnomes, and nature spirits—into a beautiful yet terrifying world. As a young boy, the player faces nightmarish, larger-than-life versions of familiar creatures, directly confronting the dark, sacrificial undertones present in much of Northern European folklore.

While not strictly horror, Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons serves as a vital adjacent title, beautifully demonstrating the environmental isolation and mythic quest structure inherent in true folklore, traveling through a stunning but dangerous world defined by local legends.

Modern Myths and Communal Isolation

Some of the most effective folk horror games craft their own local mythologies or rely on specific cultural anxieties and isolation. Detention, a Taiwanese title, uses the White Terror era and the suppressed history of its setting to create a potent blend of political and folk horror. It leverages local mythological elements, religious imagery, and ritual paper art, intertwining personal trauma with the ghosts of cultural oppression in a beautifully unsettling narrative.

Alan Wake finds its footing in the American Pacific Northwest, a landscape rich with modern legends and local secrets. The "Dark Presence" that haunts the small town of Bright Falls is a localized, landscape-specific evil that draws its power from the creative process itself, turning the natural, isolated environment into a source of existential threat.

Also, while often categorized as a teen slasher, Until Dawn is saved by its core antagonist: the Wendigo. By pivoting the horror toward this specific, deeply-rooted North American Indigenous folk legend of a monstrous, cannibalistic spirit, the game achieves a moment of pure, terrifying folk horror where the isolation of the mountains becomes tied to an ancient, starving evil.

The Quiet Decay of Community

The last group of games focuses less on jump scares and more on the decay of a small, isolated community—a hallmark of subtle folk horror. Oxenfree is centered on a secluded island where the core threat is a supernatural entity accessed through radio frequencies. The story relies on the location's specific history and a local ghost story, turning a seemingly benign place into a prison defined by unresolved, communal trauma.

Night in the Woods, though visually cartoony, is a poignant exploration of the decaying American town. Its underlying plot involves an actual cult practicing dark, sacrificial rituals to appease a local, ancient entity—a profound and sad take on how desperation leads back to archaic beliefs.

Lastly, Everyone Has Gone to the Rapture encapsulates the ultimate expression of English parochial isolation. The player wanders through a perfectly rendered, empty Shropshire village, piecing together the final moments of the community’s rapture. The entity involved is abstract, but the horror is fundamentally about the land absorbing the people, turning memory, and the physical location itself, into the main source of terror. The closed community has ceased to exist, having completed its final, terrifying transition.

Folk horror is alive and well in videogames and there are many different interpretations of the genre. Have I missed any games? Let me know in the comments.

Zoo by Otsuichi- Cult Film Review

Otsuichi is a celebrated Japanese writer who perfectly blends dark and unsettling themes with a style that appeals to both young adults and seasoned readers. After thoroughly enjoying his earlier books Summer, Fireworks, and My Corpse and Black Fairy Tales I thought I'd dive into my first film work of his. I had high expectations, but was Zoo, an anthology of five stories, any good?

Kazari and Yoko- The mother of twin sisters loves only one of her daughters and abuses the other. When the abused daughter does a good Samaritan deed, her fortunes seem to change but... can it last?

I enjoyed this story, even though it is one of neglect and abuse. The idea that 'a person can change' is a wonderful life-affirming thing but this Single White Female motiff is taken to a dramatic conclusion. The mother sure overeacts to her CDs being moved and her computer having a bit of water on them in an extreme way.

Seven Rooms- After being knocked out, a young boy and his older sister find themselves trapped in a small, concrete room. There are seven rooms in all, each containing a different young, female prisoner. The young boy is able to crawl through the sewage pipe but can't get out. What is the purpose of their incarceration? No-one knows but they do know that on the sixth day a body is chopped up.

The premise reminded me of Saw or the early 00s gore porn horror phase like My Little Eye in that there are few sets but the tension is cranked up high as heinous things are done to innocent people.

So Far- After a car accident, a young boy's life is turned upside down as his father is convinced that his mother is dead whilst the mother is convinced the father is dead. However, the boy can see both parents who cannot seem to see each other. What is going on? He becomes the go-between and it becomes a little too much.

This seems like The Sixth Sense in that you think it's going to be an 'I see dead people' kinda thing and it's pretty much that, untik it isn't... but with music by Satie, or is it Debussy? Either way, the soundtrack for this segment is pretty special as the boy's worlds start to drift apart, breaking the bridge between his parents.

When the Sun Shines- In this CGI animation, a scientist creates an automaton who he sets about learning about life and death in a world where most of humanity has already died out.

Compared to the other stories, this one stands out just because of the medium it uses to convey this post-apocalyptic story. It is a heartwarming story about the brevity and transience of life as the automaton has a kill switch date so she starts to appreciate all the small things: the sound of cicadas, the taste of coffee and the wonder of metal wind chimes. The animation here reminds me of the art style of the cult Nintendo DS videogame Another Code: Two Memories, which is no bad thing as I loved the sketchy painterly art style of that game by Taisuke Kanasaki.

Zoo- After wanting to break up, a man kills his girlfriend and dumps her body in an abandoned zoo. Weirdly, he continues to take pictures of her dead body everyday. However, when he goes back to take another picture the zoo suddenly vanishes yet new pictures are sent to him daily. Did he imagine it all? And what does the lonely zebra mean?

This is an offbeat story about toxic relationships, domestic violence against women and how our past can haunt us. It's a strange one alright but I still enjoyed it.

I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed this anthology movie as the five stories were all pretty different and quirky with a unusual atmosphere. The budget was obviously very tight but a lot has been done with little financial backing, showing that, as ever story is king. 

A Nightmare on Elm Street Boxset- Cult Movie Review

Freddy Krueger is a proper pop culture icon, appearing in video games, cartoons (as Scary Terry in Rick and Morty, the classic The Shinning episode of The Simpsons and many others) and been turned into a Funko Pop figure... the final insult. However, I didn't know that much about this pop culture icon, to be honest.

I knew of Freddy Krueger, as I was born in 1981 and his presence was everywhere like Swarzenegger, Stallone, Mr. T, Michael Jackson, Princess Di and Prince Charles so you couldn't escape his stripey junpered presence. However, I had only seen a short clip of a Nightmare on Elm Street film at a friend's house wayyy too young. It was a scene when Freddy turns into a worm in a doll's house and begins to eats a young woman. The scene scarred me, as I was only about 8 year old at the time, and gave me nightmares for years after. When I plucked up the courage to watch the first film it was when I was in my late teens and it seemed hokey and jokey not terrifying. I watched the third film, The Dream Warriors, several years ago and enjoyed it but, once again, never got around to watching the rest. It remained a blind spot in my filmography so, when I saw the 7 disc boxset at the local Oxfam I picked it up and decided to watch them all in order.

Here are brief synopsis of the films and my thoughts on each.

A Nightmare On Elm Street
Nancy and her friends live on the same street, Elm Street, and are all having the same nightmare featuring the same mysterious figure. Who is he and what does he want? As Nancy, her boyfriend and others get closer to the truth the body count rises. Nancy is the last girl standing and confronts the figure in the shadowy dream realm.

This is a great premise for a movie and Heather Langenkamp plays the lead character extremely well. She is a relatable and likable teen, quite a feat for a 19 year old at the time, and is fearless in taking the fight to Freddy. Her boyfriend Glen, played by a young Johnny Depp, is a great audience surrogate who doesn't understand what is going on but does let her down by falling asleep a couple of times when she needs him most. His death is spectacularly memorable and the whole film is a pretty enjoyable affair with lots of flair shown in the set design and special effects department. The film has stood the test of time and is still worth a look today.

A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge
Five years after the events of the first film, a new family moves into the Thompson house. The teen son starts to have nightmares of Freddy and learns of the murders, which his father ignored as he 'got a great price on the house.' However, as the boy starts to feel possessed he tried to resist the rising blood lust which would bring Freddy back from the beyond.

This is apparently not a well like sequel and I can see why - the main character Jesse, played quite wooden by Mark Patton, is not an interesting or sympathetic character. The love interest girlfriend Lisa, played by Kim Myers, looks like the mix of James Spader and Meryl Streep. She seems to really be into Jessie but I don't know why as he's an annoying muppet. She is the final girl in this film and does okay but is no Nancy. The final showdown in the factory is a bit of a let down and Freddy flails a lot in this. Overall, this film was pretty bad and I can imagine that, at the time, people being disappointed to have this clunky sophomore slump after the unique first film. In all fairness, Freddy's Revenge is not alone in being the weirdo outlier that tried something different after an impressive original, just look at Zelda 2, Super Mario Bros. 2, Halloween 3: Season of the Witch. I admire that they tried something different but boy was this a piss poor followup.

A Nightmare On Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors
After the horrific events of the last two films, the traumatised Elm Street teens are placed into a psychiatric ward. However, when Freddy returns to haunts their dreams the OG final girl and now hotshot Nightmare Researcher Nancy Thompson (Heather Langenkamp) returns to help these Dream Warriors fight him at his own game.
I remember thinking when I saw this about 10 years ago that the kids chose shitty weapons to go against Freddie. That one girl who brings flick knives to a big knife fight is a muppet as I would have gone for a bazooka or uzi. Simples!
Watching this again I really appreciated it and do think that it has stood the test of time well. Patricia Arquette and Larry (Lawrence) Fishburn are in this and show their acting chops even if Arquette's papier-mâché making skills are naff at the beginning of the film. Her hand-crafted doll's house is proper creepy and a suitably spooky spot for Freddy to come through.
I also loved the various special effects like the claymation Freddy that strings up a boy using his arteries and veins- a very creative killing indeed.
A nice surprise was seeing Angelo Badalamenti's name come up in the opening credits as I didn't remember that he'd created the soundtrack. This scary soundtrack early on in his Hollywood career before finding it big alongside David Lynch is great, not 'I'm gonna buy the soundtrack on vinyl' great but wonderful when placed alongside the cinematography of the film.
Overall, this is one of the best regarded Elm Street films and it's easy to see why; the iconic "Welcome to prime time, bitch!" is dropped here but also it's just a solid tale of teens coming together to battle a common evil and we can all get behind that.

A Nightmare On Elm Street 4: The Dream Master

The dead and consecrated body of Freddy Krueger rises again and Kristen (played ably by Tuesday Knight and not the then pregnant Rosanna Arquette) reunite with Kincaid and Joey to fight him. It's all thanks to Jason, Kincaid's weird dog and his flaming hot wee ritual. 

On a quest for revenge, Freddy seeks out those who killed him in the last film and it's up to final girl Kristen after the other two are wiped out pretty early on. It's no real spoiler to say that she doesn't survive for very long and so ends the line of the Elm Street parents' kids but not before passing on the torch to Alice, her best friend with a special power. 

This is a pretty solid sequel with some creative deaths, especially Joey's waterbed death. The new character of Alice (ably played with wide eyed terror by Lisa Wilcox), who has the power to manipulate dreams, is a good addition as she adds another wrinkle into the tried and tested formula as she gains the powers of her fallen friends. However, compared to the previous film the acting is slightly more stilted and overwritten in places. It's not bad by any means but it isn't up to par as the broad comedic strokes get wider and the series becomes more of a spoof with Jaws and The Karate Kid skits with Robert Englund enjoying himself immensely. Having said that, I do like the lore of the two gates of dreams and nightmares with Freddy being the gatekeeper of the latter. It reminds me of how the lore of the Joker in a recent Batman comic, where he is an agent of chaos that has always existed in different incarnations, makes the work more existential and powerful as it hints at something bigger than just an annoying bogeyman. 

A Nightmare On Elm Street 5: The Dream Child

Seeking revenge on Dream Master Alice, who defeated him in Elm Street 4, Freddy manages to return through the dreams of her unborn child. Through this loophole, he returns to his murderous ways and continues to kill Alice's friends. 

This film is a solid continuation of the series and continues to tell Alice's tale. The deaths are suitably creative but I want to mention the matt painting of the gothic church as it is incredibly impressive and the looong dimly lit corridors are eerie. I also like that another bit of lore is dropped with Melicertes, the King who kills kids because they ruined the way his kingdom is run even it wasn't elaborated on but thrown in... not for foreshadowing either. Overall, this is an okay film and, even though it is the 4th sequel, still pretty good for what it is. 

A Nightmare On Elm Street 6: Freddy's Dead - The Final Nightmare

Freddy latches on to the soul of some poor 'Littlest Hobo' type amnesiac sap who ends up in Springwood, a random town well away from Elm Street. He ends up in a shelter where he meets other youths who all have complex backgrounds with trauma. Needless to say, Freddy gets into the dreams of the youths and starts to mess with them. 

This is a poor film as it is too light and modern feeling, lacking the colour palette and mood of its predecessors. There isn't a charismatic or strong lead and it all feels pretty darn disappointing. The deaths themselves lack the creativity of earlier installments and seems very cheesy, especially the videogame death that has awful graphics. Overall, this film can be swerved as it is awful. 

A Nightmare On Elm Street 7: Wes Craven's New Nightmare

In a surprisingly meta twist, the Dream Stalker comes back from the dead to haunt the stars of the original film and director Wes Craven. As fiction and reality blur, Heather Langenkamp worries that she is losing her mind but is Freddy really back? 

It was great to see Heather Langenkamp back in a meta role and the story is clever enough to keep you intrigued throughout. 

Overall, I've really enjoyed working my way through these films and filling in that pop culture knowledge gap I've had. I think the films are pretty good for what they are, for the most part. Sure, part 2 and 6 are pretty awful but 1, 3, 4 and 5 tell a cohesive and coherent story with good character arcs what New Nightmare tries something a bit out there and mostly succeeds.

Horror has always been a good testing ground for creativity and inventiveness when it comes to special effects and this series is no different. Across the films we see the use of matte paintings, early CGI, stop-motion, animation and practical effects which are all uniformly impressive and, whilst they show their age now, they must have been impressive for the time considering the tight budgets they were under. Give the series a watch if you haven't before as it is definitely with your time. 

LINK- Pure Invention: How Japan's Pop Culture Conquered the World- Book Review (and Personal Reflections)

LINK- The Rise of Retro Gaming During Covid

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Blood, Sweat and Pixels- Book Review

LINK- Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK- On And On And Colston ( Or, How We Kinda Sort of Learned to Talk About the Legacy of Colonialism and the British Empire)

LINK- ‘Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire’ LINK: Elden Ring- Videogames As Art

Midori Shoujo Tsubaki (Midori: The Girl in the Freakshow) - Cult Manga Review

When the name Midori Shoujo Tsubaki, also known as Midori: The Girl in the Freakshow or Mr. Arashi's Amazing Freak Show, comes up in anime discussions, it's almost invariably accompanied by hushed tones, warnings, and the word 'disturbing.'

I'm an old anime and manga head so have seen my fair share of controversial manga and anime in my time (Urotsokijodi, Genocyber, Kite etc) so I thought I'd see what all the fuss was about. I found the censored version online so, one cold and wet evening, I decided to give it a watch.

Midori is relentlessly bleak and doesn’t really let up.

The story follows young Midori, an orphaned girl forced into a traveling freak show after her mother's death. Here, she endures relentless abuse, neglect, and psychological torment at the hands of the show's bizarre and cruel performers. However, her life seems to change when a magician shows up and falls for her. But, can it last?

This 1992 animated film, based on Suehiro Maruo's manga, struggled to be funded due to its harsh content but, beyond the initial shock value and the undeniable disturbing imagery, one could argue that Midori Shoujo Tsubaki is, at its core, a profoundly sad narrative about trauma and surviving abuse. While the film certainly doesn't shy away from depicting grotesque violence, exploitation, and abject cruelty, these elements often serve to amplify the tragic plight of its protagonist rather than serving as torture porn for the viewer.

The 'disturbing' aspects – the physical deformities, the explicit violence, the dehumanization – are undeniably present and impactful but are designed to make the viewer uncomfortable to reflect the horrific reality Midori inhabits rather than to titillate. Yet, as the narrative progresses, the pervasive sense of despair and hopelessness that envelops Midori becomes the dominant emotion. Her desperate attempts to find kindness, her fleeting moments of hope quickly crushed, and her ultimate resignation to her grim fate are what truly resonate. In many ways, the film is a stark portrayal of the loss of innocence, the resilience of the human spirit under unimaginable duress, and the devastating impact of unchecked cruelty. It forces viewers to confront uncomfortable truths about exploitation and the darker corners of human nature.

I wouldn’t say that I’m glad to have watched Midori as, like Gaspar Noé's Irreversible, it's a difficult watch, to be sure, but it is one that leaves a lasting impression and not just for its disturbing visuals, but for the sheer weight of its protagonist's sorrow. Fair warning, this is not for the faint of heart or the easily triggered.

LINK- Pure Invention: How Japan's Pop Culture Conquered the World- Book Review (and Personal Reflections)

LINK- The Rise of Retro Gaming During Covid

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Blood, Sweat and Pixels- Book Review

LINK- Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK- On And On And Colston ( Or, How We Kinda Sort of Learned to Talk About the Legacy of Colonialism and the British Empire)

LINK- ‘Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire’ LINK: Elden Ring- Videogames As Art

The Power of Stories and How They Are Manipulated

The oral storytelling tradition was once an integral part of human life, containing essential morals and shared truths. Yet, these traditional tales, with their elements of the supernatural and fantastic, soon came under attack. The Church sought to suppress them, and the Industrial Revolution further accelerated their decline by raising the Condition of England Question. These seismic changes obliterated the oral tradition in rural areas, as the massive movement of people to urban centers created a society of strangers with no connected hearth. Tales that had once been the common property of all became the preserve of the Nanny, who sanitized or removed the more seemingly seditious or salacious elements to make them moralizing; or of scholars, who understood the words but often missed the context and the frequently hidden subtext.

Our minds are intrinsically wired to perceive the world through narratives. We naturally transform complex, chaotic reality into a coherent sequence of events, allowing us to make sense of our surroundings and predict future outcomes. This natural inclination to narrate is what makes stories so profoundly influential. They highlight specific details as significant, giving meaning to otherwise random occurrences and providing a framework for understanding our place in the world. Crucially, this innate human need for narrative extends beyond personal comprehension and into the realm of shared beliefs and societal structures.

A national narrative is the story a country tells itself about its past, present, and future. It is a collection of shared myths, historical events, and cultural values that bind a diverse population together. This narrative is not static; it is a dynamic, evolving construct shaped by those in positions of influence.

Political leaders, historians, and media outlets play key roles in curating which stories are told, how they are framed, and what they signify. By emphasizing certain historical victories, heroic figures, or foundational myths—think of the narratives of American pioneers, the French Revolution, or the British Empire—they create a sense of shared identity and purpose, instilling national character and a sense of destiny.

The power of a story to forge a national identity can, however, be easily exploited. When a national narrative is shaped for manipulative purposes, it often involves the sanitization of history, the glorification of a chosen group, and the demonization of others. This manipulation leads to a selective memory, where inconvenient truths are erased or reframed, and historical wrongs are downplayed. For example, a government might promote a narrative of national exceptionalism by highlighting only its triumphs while ignoring instances of conflict, oppression, or economic exploitation. This kind of selective storytelling is a powerful tool for maintaining social control and justifying political agendas, from engaging in war to implementing specific domestic policies. In the digital age, this manipulation has become even more insidious, with social media and the rapid spread of "fake news" allowing for the near-instantaneous dissemination of curated and often false narratives.

Ultimately, while stories are essential for human connection and understanding, we must remain vigilant. We need to recognize that not all stories are told with our best interests at heart and be prepared to deconstruct the narratives presented to us, especially those that seek to define who we are as a people or things done in our name.

We are a multitude, and so must our stories be.

LINK - The Message by Ta-Nahisi Coates - Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK- The Anxious Generation: Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK- Utopia for Realists- Book Review

LINK- Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties- Book Review (and Some Thoughts)

LINK- On And On And Colston ( Or, How We Kinda Sort of Learned to Talk About the Legacy of Colonialism and the British Empire)

LINK- ‘Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire’ LINK: Elden Ring- Videogames As Art

Dolls (1987) - Cult Film Review

Every spooky season, I have a tradition which is to revisit the classics of horror - Halloween, The Nightmare on Elm Street - you know the drill. But occasionally, I stumble upon a lesser-known cult film that punches well above its weight and this year, my happy accident was Dolls. This is my review of that film.

The premise is pure, unadulterated '80s horror camp: A deadbeat father, his sweet young daughter and the new evil stepmother find themselves stranded during a sudden storm and so are forced to take shelter in a massive, remote English mansion. Inside, they find elderly dollmaker Gabriel Hartwick and his wife, Hilary, along with a spectacular collection of meticulously crafted, antique dolls. It doesn't take long for the visitors to realize that these aren't just display pieces; they come alive with lethal, tiny intent.

Premise set, the film moves with brisk efficiency clocking in at a tight 77 minutes. Director Stuart Gordon (fresh off his success with Re-Animator) wastes no time setting up the isolation and dread, making sure that every minute serves the narrative or delivers a jolt of creature-feature fun. What elevates Dolls beyond a simple B-movie premise is the sheer commitment of the cast and crew. The film is beautifully framed by the toxic father and new girlfriend, whose ascerbic and darkly comedic relationship is played with entertaining, biting banter and clever wordplay. However, the standout performance is undeniably from Guy Rolfe as Gabriel Hartwick. Rolfe masterfully pivots from a seemingly kind, grandfatherly figure to the chilling, proprietary dollmaker, providing the perfect grounded menace that the film needs to sell its fantastical horror.

The entire cast is uniformly solid, ensuring that you're invested in the fate of everyone trapped inside. The two punk girls, who are actually British, have the most dodgy 'Cockerny' accents this side of Dick Van Dyke's but that only adds to the earnest cheesiness of it all.

No great cult film is complete without a memorable soundtrack, and Fuzzbee Morse's score is absolutely pitch-perfect. It carries a distinctive, creepy lullaby tone—playful enough to match the tiny toy killers, yet underscored by a deep, reverberating strings section that signals genuine threat.This music, paired with the opening credit roll of those unblinking, horrifying doll heads staring out at you, instantly cements the film's reputation for great, campy fun.

Gordon clearly knows his onions, orchestrating a truly delightful piece of macabre cinema on a shoestring budget that feels like a dark fairy tale come to life. So, if you’re looking for a low-stakes, high-fun piece of horror with practical effects, genuine atmosphere, and a great central conceit, Dolls is an absolute must-watch. It’s earned its cult status, and now it’s earned a permanent spot on my spooky season re-watch list.