And the Winner Is...

This morning I conducted the drawing for the Comments Lottery.  I literally drew names out of a hat--for each comment that a person left on this blog during the contest period, a slip of paper with that person's name on it was entered into the drawing.  A couple of people had multiple entries, but the actual winner of the drawing (for his comment to the post on King's "The Last Rung on the Ladder") was...

MATT MOORE!!!

Matt has won a $25 gift card, which he can use in the Macabre Republic aStore or anywhere on Amazon.com.  Congratulations, Matt!

And thank you to all who participated in the contest.  I hope to run one again in the coming months (perhaps even doing an unannounced Comments Lottery to reward followers of the blog).  My goal is to build a sense of community here at Macabre Republic, to provide a forum for other voices besides my own.  So please, don't be shy about leaving comments to the posts.  As you hopefully can see by this point, I don't bite (well, except on that one night a month when the moon rounds out--then you might want to keep your distance...).

In other news: I've extended the sidebar poll by two more weeks, in the hopes that the deadlock at the top will get broken.  So if you haven't voted for your Favorite American Haunted-House Novel yet, go ahead and give a quick click.

Thanks,

Joe

Countdown: The Top 20 Stephen King Works of American Gothic Short Fiction--#16. Premium Harmony

#16. "Premium Harmony"

[For previous entries, click the "Top 20 Countdowns" label under Features in the sidebar]

Note: King's short story was published in The New Yorker in November 2009.  Those unfamiliar with it might want to read it first before proceeding with this blog post.

A decade together has drained the magic from Ray and Mary Burkett's marriage.  Argument is now their primary form of communication, as seen on their drive through the economically-depressed town of Castle Rock.  They are headed over to the Wal-Mart to buy some grass seed (King stocks the story with calculatedly banal detail) when Mary insists they stop off at the Quik-Pik so she can purchase a purple kickball for her niece.  Tempers flare when Mary balks at buying Ray a pack of cigarettes; he proceeds to taunt her about her weight and her fondness for snack cakes.  As the first scene closes, King brilliantly illustrates the petty animosity that results from a long life with a so-called loved one: Ray has "parked too close to the concrete cube of a building and she has to sidle until she's past the trunk of the car, and he knows she knows he's looking at her, seeing how she's now so big she has to sidle.  He knows she thinks he parked close to the building on purpose, to make her sidle, and maybe he did."

Ray waits in the car with the family dog Biznezz, but is summoned inside by a worker minutes later after the thirty-five-year-old Mary drops dead of a heart attack.  The scene inside the Quik-Pik is painted with blackly comic strokes, as Mary lies sprawled next to a kickball-filled wire rack whose sign proclaims "Hot Fun In the Summertime," and as the store manager Mr. Ghosh offers to drape a souvenir T-shirt ("My Parents Were Treated Like Royalty in Castle Rock and All I Got Was This Lousy Tee-Shirt") over Mary's face.  Ray hardly comes across as a nobleman here; his thoughts are in turn lascivious (he speculates that if he returned to the store next week, the counter girl would "toss him a mercy fuck"), racist (he isn't thrilled by the idea of the dark-skinned Mr. Ghosh performing artificial respiration on Mary), and insensitive (he believes a woman standing there holding a bag of Bugles should be the one lying on the floor, since she's even fatter than Mary).

Basking in his "celebrity" status as a sudden widower, Ray lingers in the store after the ambulance leaves with his wife's body.  He drinks soda, eats some Bugles, and converses with the other customers and the store employees before finally disembarking.  Returning to his car nearly two hours after first pulling up at the Quick-Pik, Ray is greeted by another corpse: the forgotten Biznezz is now lying belly-up in the backseat, killed by the sweltering heat.  "Great sadness and amusement sweep over [Ray] as he looks at the baked Jack Russell"; he starts to cry and bemoans his double loss, but he might just be going through the motions (he thinks that "[i]t's a relief to sound just right for the situation").  Ray's mixed reaction here in the conclusion underscores the ambivalence that lies at the heart of King's understated story.  The reader is left to ponder: is Ray simply contemptible, or just a common man, humanly flawed?  That unsettling second possibility is what transforms "Premium Harmony" into an intriguing work of American Gothic fiction.

Carnivale Revisited--Episode 1: "Milfay"

The dramatic series Carnivale, a Steinbeck-meets-Bradbury hybrid chronicling a traveling carnival in mid-1930s Dust Bowl America, aired for two seasons on HBO from 2003-2005 before being unceremoniously cancelled (a decision that I, and many other of the show's loyal fans, never forgave the network for).  "Carnivale Revisited" will be a recurring feature here on Macabre Republic in which I post episode guides for what is arguably the greatest (non-anthology) dark fantasy series in the history of television.  The guides will offer an overview of the individual episodes rather than scene-by-scene summaries rife with plot spoilers.  My hope is to stir some fond memories for those who watched the show faithfully, and to spur those unfamiliar with the series to fill up their Netflix queues or purchase Carnivale: The Complete First Season on DVD.  I'll begin today by covering the show's debut episode, "Milfay."

The episode introduces main character Ben Hawkins (played by Nick Stahl), a young chain-gang fugitive who is picked up by a traveling carnival following the death of his mother and loss of his home in drought-stricken Milfay, Oklahoma in 1934.  The carnival, unsurprisingly, is stocked with colorful and intriguing characters, such as the dwarf man-in-charge Samson and his gimpy crew-boss sidekick Jonesy; the blind mentalist Professor Lodz and the libidinous bearded lady Lila; the snake charmer Ruthie and her strongman son Gabriel; the tarot-reading Sofie, who runs a fortune-telling act with her catatonic (and telekinetic, when angered) mother Apollonia.  And then there's the unseen figure referred to as "Management," who has informed Samson that Ben's arrival was not unanticipated.

Cutting between the scenes of the carnival in Oklahoma is the parallel storyline of Brother Justin Crowe, a Methodist minister who (with the assistance of his sister Iris) runs a church in Mintern, California.  Brother Justin (played by the magnificent Clancy Brown) is a devout preacher subject to powerful visions, which he takes as signs from God.  He also seems to share the same bizarre dreams as Ben (surreal sequences featuring a hulking, tattooed brute, a mysterious figure in tuxedo and top hat, and a Russian soldier on a World War I battlefield), an early indication that the show's parallel plots are destined to converge.

Ben receives his introduction to carny life in this episode, yet feels a strong disconnect from such folk at first.  It soon becomes obvious, though, that Ben himself is no ordinary young man--he possesses the Christlike ability to heal others.  As the episode concludes, the audience also gets its first clue that Ben's extraordinary power comes at a steep price.

Throughout its two-season run, Carnivale presented an engrossing story filled with ever-deepening mysteries and ever-growing marvels.  This initial episode hooks the viewer from the start, making a tacit promise that an incredible ride is in store.       

Book Review: Sideshow

Sideshow by William Ollie (Dark Regions Press, 2010)

If you write a book in which a mysterious carnival appears on the outskirts of town in October, and in which a pair of young boys square off against a sinister proprietor, then the inevitable comparison will be to Something Wicked This Way Comes.  William Ollie (in a post on his blog) has asserted that his book was not written in homage to Ray Bradbury's classic novel, and he even claims that Something Wicked was far from his thoughts when composing Sideshow because he hadn't read it in many years, but I suspect that's just the anxiety of influence talking.  Still, there are some prominent differences that should be pointed out: Ollie's novel exhibits a much more adult sensibility, as signaled early on in a prologue scene involving a naked cooch dancer and a lit cigar.  Profanity abounds (various characters have a habit of starting sentences with "The fuck..."), and the book features explicit scenes of rape and murder.  Diverging from Bradbury's dark fantasy, Ollie has written an out-and-out horror novel.

In contrast to Bradbury, Ollie also spends more time in the novel within his respective carnival, and these scenes represent the strongest part of Sideshow.  Hannibal Cobb's Kansas City Carnival is rigged worse than the most dishonest game of chance, masking squalor and danger with the illusion of modern wonder.  Deluded fairgoers end up the victims of foul play, and often find themselves transformed into the latest acts in the titular sideshow.  There's a motive for all this mayhem, though.  Cobb's carnival, which has not arrived accidentally in Pottsboro, South Carolina, is on an unholy mission of retribution.

Sideshow is not a flawless piece of writing.  The narrative loses its momentum at times, perhaps due in part to the author's penchant for delving into the characters' inner monologues (as they stop to think questions and ponder the strangeness they've witnessed).  Ollie also has a tendency to recount events and repeat details (in this reader's estimation, too much ado is made of the top-hat-shaped black cloud hanging overhead).  Nonetheless, the novel offers some vibrant imagery (as reflected by M. Wayne Miller's fabulous cover art) and builds to a blood-soaked climax.  Sideshow ultimately does not measure up to its Bradburian precursor (not that it it would be fair to expect it to), but it's a novel that avid fans of the dark-carnival subgenre will no doubt enjoy.

Movie Review: The Last Exorcism

The Last Exorcism (2010; Directed by Daniel Stamm, Written by Huck Botko and Andrew Gurland)

I have to admit, I went into this film with low expectations.  I hadn't read any reviews, but knew Eli Roth's name was attached as a producer, so I was anticipating some Hostel-esque grue applied to yet another Exorcist knockoff.  There's no head spinning or projectile vomiting to be spied here, though; no gutter-mouthed girl with nasty masturbation habits.  The Last Exorcism is more reminiscent of Paranormal Activity (in its mockumentary form) and Frailty (in its compelling vacillation between psychological and supernatural explanations).  And it is an indisputable must-see for horror fans.

Patrick Fabian shines in the role of Cotton Marcus, a Baton Rouge minister who is as much an illusionist as an evangelist.  For years he's performed "successful" exorcisms, but he doesn't believe he has actually cast out any demons, merely helped bring peace of mind to those who've convinced themselves that they are possessed.  However, when he sees that children nationwide are dying at the well-intentioned but clumsy hands of other exorcists, Marcus resolves to expose the whole ritual as a sham.  Like a magician giving away the secrets of his act, Marcus decides to make a documentary that demonstrates his own machinations (to prove his point, he agrees to minister to an allegedly demon-ridden sixteen year old named Nell Sweetzer).  Naturally, Marcus gets more than he bargained for, and matters worsen with his every attempt to help Nell.  The film forces viewers to consider whether this girl is really possessed, or just deeply disturbed.  There's a distinct Southern Gothic vibe to The Last Exorcism (Nell lives with her father and brother on a remote farm in rural Louisiana), with hints of incest suggesting that the horrors transpiring behind the closed doors of the Sweetzer home have nothing to do with Satan's minions.  Still, as the film unfolds, the obvious plot twist that the viewer senses coming is that the would-be debunker Marcus will realize that he's encountered the real supernatural deal.  But to its credit, the film does not reduce Marcus to some skeptical, Lovecraftian protagonist forced to belatedly acknowledge the occult.  The plot proves much more wickedly complex than that.

The Last Exorcism does make a few missteps along the way.  After a trying day for Marcus and his two-person crew, his cameraman proposes that they all just stop and take and take a nap--a contrivance that allows Nell to then steal the camera and record her own nocturnal shenanigans.  Also, I'm not sure why the second exorcism needed to take place in the family barn, other than the fact that it makes for a creepy setting.  And the panic-stricken flight through the woods by one character in the climax seemed too derivatively Blair-Witchy for my taste.  Really, though, these are just quibbles.  My one main issue is not with the movie itself but with the poster used to promote it.  The image employed is both deceptive (no such scene takes place in the movie) and counter-productive to the sense of uncertainty that the film aims to create.  As I sat there watching, I kept reasoning that Nell's situation can't be chalked up to fakery or mania if she is going to end up crawling across the ceiling like some human spider.  Fortunately, the director Stamm never stoops to such a stunt, which has already been seen in countless other horror movies.

Does the film get too plot-twisty for its own good with its rapid-fire closing sequence?  Perhaps.  But one thing's for sure: the ending will have you talking as you exit the theater.  The Last Exorcism is the type of movie that you need to watch a second time to try to sort out its ambiguities; the ultimate testament of this film's success is that you'll be eager to do just that.