This is a new title directed by Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman which they have adapted from their original stage play. Andy Nyman also stars in the film as ‘Professor’ Goodman. He is actually an investigator with his own television show. His investigations are into fake spiritualist. His guru in this activity is Charles Cameron (Leonard Byrne) who apparently disappeared some years earlier. But Cameron re-appears and asks Goodman to look into three claims of mystery sighting of ghosts or equivalents. The three investigations occupy much of the film so it operates a little like a portmanteau film.
The BBFC advised that it was ‘strong horror [and] language’. In fact there were only a couple of serious shocks/surprises and the only amount of schlock is right at the end of the film. In between we see Goodman investigate by interviewing the subjects of these ghostly events. The witnesses never complete their stories as we face an abrupt cut at a moment of high tension. The third event is completed verbally after a similar cut.
Such ambiguities are deliberate because the way the narrative works leads up to an unexpected ending. In fact the publicity poster or the film requests audiences not to reveal the ‘secret’ of the ending. What I can note is that the film opens with Goodman’s voice-over narrating flashbacks to his childhood. And one of the aspects of the film is the way that experiences in childhood and at school haunt adults later in life.
I saw the film at a Picturehouse preview. It is fairly well done. The ghostly sequences are effective and not especially scary. The film uses the 2.35:1 frame and there are some well photographed exteriors. The sound adds to the atmosphere with both effects, noises and music. And there is a popular song which emphasises the resolution of the film. The cast also offer an effective representation of characters and events. Jeremy Dyson is from Leeds and there are a number of Yorkshire locations in the production.
The presentation was preceded by a publicity poster on-screen. The film does not quite justify the hype here. But what was slightly odd was that it contained deliberate misspellings [that are not in the standard poster] with reverse lettering and exchanged letters in some of the text. I could not figure how this related to the film. I had also seen the trailer earlier which contained one character who claimed the events were ‘unexplainable’. I found this inexplicable.
Spanish cinema has a high reputation for genres such as horror, fantasy and science fiction – whether the films are aimed at cinéphile audiences, mainstream Spanish audiences or more cultish followers. The Night of the Virgin, as the title perhaps indicates, is skewed towards the third option, though it perhaps has some pretensions to attract the first. This is a horror film trading in disgust, but also trying to make some political points – though whether these are accessible to audiences outside Spanish culture is debatable.
It’s New Years Eve and the film’s first trick is to invite us to a live Spanish TV programme preparing for the New Year’s Eve celebrations in Bilbao – the extract is presented as a small 4:3 image within a CinemaScope frame. (IMDb suggests the film’s ratio is 2.70:1 ‘Ultra CinemaScope’.) Eventually the TV image expands to at least fill the frame vertically and then the image switches to the full ‘Scope frame to show a bar/night club where the titular character is attempting to find a woman to take away his virginity on the last night of the year. It looks like he will have no luck but at the last an attractive older woman invites him back to her apartment.
The virgin, Nico (Javier Bódalo) has borrowed a dress shirt and jacket to go out but he seems bewildered by the club. He’s also being goaded on by his mates and we see their text messages to him. Soon his hormones take over and a familiar scenario from teen horror emerges – he will seek a sexual adventure and something will go wrong. When he and the woman, Medea (Miriam Martín) reach her dingy apartment block, she warns him not to step on a cockroach as it will bring him bad luck – but, of course, he immediately does. We assume that he doesn’t know the story of Medea the sorceress. This Medea seems to have embraced sorcery from a different culture but she is certainly not to be messed with. What follows is a horror narrative with some comic elements which involves every kind of bodily fluids. It explores the desire for and fear of sexual acts and their place in rituals. Will Nico survive the night? What else goes on in this old apartment block? The narrative has a twist and the film ends with another TV broadcast which this time reports from outside the apartment block.
Would I recommend the film? I’m afraid that I don’t feel competent. I’ve seen enough Spanish horror and read enough Spanish history to know that there are some possible satirical/political points here but I can’t work out what they mean (apart from the attack on those idiotic New Year’s Eve TV programmes). This form of ‘body horror of disgust’ is not for the squeamish and unfortunately that includes me. The film has an 18 certificate for its UK release (strong violence, gore, sexual violence, sexual activity). Writer Guillermo Guerrero and director Roberto San Sebastián have produced a film that seems to have attracted extensive interest by specialist film festivals around the world. The film’s promotion cites many prizes and many glowing reviews from horror fans – “Disgustingly Unforgettable”, “Extreme, Grotesque and Gloriously Insane” are just a couple of them. The film is arguably too long but the music is entertaining.
It’s available from Matchbox Films, release date April 2 and can be pre-ordered from Amazon UK.
A film that ‘launched a thousand’ replicas: not quite but there are sixteen plus Japanese remakes or sequels. There are also numerous US versions: the original was re-edited and dubbed for the US market. Among the changes the US version downplayed the dangers of nuclear weapons, a key theme in the plot.
Beverley Bare Buehrer, in a commentary on the film recorded that:
“Toho executive producer, Tanaka Tomoyuki, saw the 1953 American film Beast from 20,000 Fathoms. He liked the film and coupled it with an actual event which happened in March of that year, the exposure to radioactive fallout of Japanese fisherman on the tuna boat, Fukuryu Maru, sailing in an area too close to an H-bomb test America had used near the Marshall Islands.”
Forgiveness is obviously a Japanese characteristic since they have co-operated with the Yanks since then rather than initiating economic boycotts.
The film was an expensive production by Japanese standards of the time. The film’s special effects relied on a skilled specialist Tsuburaya Eiji. I found the design of the production by Chuko Satoshi still convincing last time I saw the print. Tamai Masao’s black and white cinematography is finely done, [academy ratio]. The film’ soundtrack by Shimonaga Hisashi uses special sound effects. And the music by Ifukube Akira is especially effective. Director Honda Inoshiro orchestrates these talents into an excellent 98 minutes of action.
Whilst techniques have moved on and developed in the intervening decades the film stands up really well. The script is by Murata Takeo and Honda Inoshiro and the plot develops at a fairly fast pace and offers character relations as well as a monster and large-scale destruction. It is also the type of film that looks better in a 35mm print. So happily Hebden Bridge Picture House is using this format for a ‘reel film’ screening on Saturday February 3rd. The last time I saw the film the print was in good shape.
We enjoyed a good-looking 35mm print. The visual and aural special effects stood up well as did the monster and its rampages. Some of the plot is conventional but the recurring references to the US nuclear bombing of Japan are powerful. There is a reference to Nagasaki and a number of sequences that recall the horrors of 1945. There is also an interesting debate amongst the scientific characters about what should be done about the monster. Definitely a classic.
The Limehouse Golem is a fascinating film for several reasons. It seems to have divided audiences and overall its box office performance has been ‘soft’ for Lionsgate in the UK (albeit on one of the worst weekends of the year for the cinema b.o.). It’ll be interesting to see what happened in Week 2.
My personal interest in the film is mainly because its two key locations of an 1880s East End street and the interior of a music hall were recreated in the atmospheric setting of Dalton Mills in Keighley. This complex of three textile mills built in the 1860s is a listed building with several unique features which have been cleverly utilised. The complex has been used for a range of film and TV locations including North and South (2004), the TV adaptation of Mrs Gaskell’s novel and it lies adjacent to Keighley Station and the Keighley & Worth Valley heritage railway. Using other key locations in the North of England and then studio work in London, The Limehouse Golem has a very strong visual aesthetic with minimal visible CGI. This and the performances of an impressive cast are its strengths.
The scriptwriter Jane Goldman is known for her collaborations with Matthew Vaughn and Mark Millar but perhaps the important link here is her 2012 adaptation of the Woman in Black by Susan Hill. The Limehouse Golem has been adapted from a 1994 novel with the title Dan Leno and The Limehouse Golem by Peter Ackroyd. Ackroyd specialises in biography and novels about London and its history. The Limehouse Golem is about the trial of Elizabeth Cree, charged for the murder of her husband, a would-be playwright. The narrative involves going back over Mrs Cree’s emergence as a star of Dan Leno’s music hall. Leno is one of three historical figures (Karl Marx and the novelist George Gissing are the others) who appear to have been in the British Museum Library reading room at the same time as John Cree and whose testimony must be explored. I haven’t read the novel, but in the film, Inspector Kildare (Bill Nighy) is the investigator of this mystery which is presented through a series of flashbacks, some with ‘unreliable narration’. I suspect that, as in the case of The Woman in Black, there is possibly a degree of snobbery in some of the reactions to Goldman’s adaptation of a genre novel by an acclaimed ‘literary’ writer into a popular film. The other negative reactions may come from genre fans of horror or mystery films. The latter, in particular, can sometimes dismiss a narrative if they deem it too easy to ‘solve’ as a puzzle. It’s really a question of how you approach a narrative in order to be entertained. It may well be the case that The Limehouse Golem is an easy ‘puzzle’ to solve, but I would argue its pleasures are found in how the events are presented on screen.
The setting of the film in the Gothic world of late 19th century London is shared by a range of current film and TV offerings, including the TV series Ripper Street. What makes the setting particularly interesting for audiences in 2017 is the ability of familiar genre set-ups to absorb and use contemporary concerns in its storylines (whether this is intentional or not and this film first appeared in 2016). In this case there is an emphasis on gender identities and immigration. One character is an ‘exotic’ acrobat played by the Spanish actor María Valverde and the the Jewishness of the East End is explored in some detail, including in the reference to the ‘Golem’, the monster formed from clay that can be either protective or malign in its actions in relation to Jewish communities. Interestingly, it is his Jewishness that singles out Karl Marx rather than his work on Das Kapital. Cross-dressing is a feature of Dan Leno’s music hall performances, into which Lizzie Cree is inducted. These are traditional performances in an English context but the introduction of a ‘repressed’ gay sensibility by two of the characters is something that appears to have gone down badly with some audiences. I think that Peter Ackroyd is a gay writer so this may be in the original novel. The narrative could have introduced Oscar Wilde and his circle since he was active in London from the early 1880s. But then there is no claim to historical accuracy in the film and ‘real’ characters like Dan Leno are presented anachronistically several years out of place.
The clearest contemporary reference is to celebrity gossip and tabloid sensationalism so that in one scene an unworldly Inspector Kildare arrives at a crime scene overrun by goulish spectators and Daniel Mays as a uniformed constable explains that the blood attracts crowds because it is cheaper than paying to watch (or read) a ‘shocker’. The narrative is indeed about celebrity, ‘performance’ and the 1880s equivalent of reality TV. I didn’t enjoy the gore on display in the murders but this may please others. The discovery in the film is Olivia Cooke, a young actor (23) from Oldham playing Lizzie Cree most convincingly. Douglas Booth as Dan Leno, Henry Goodman as Marx and Eddie Marsan as the music hall manager lead the fine team of players and credit must also go to director Juan Carlos Medina, cinematographer Simon Denis (who also shot episodes of Ripper Street and Peaky Blinders) and the whole production design crew. I did note the comment that though the music hall scenes include interesting musical sequences, we never see any musicians – how odd. The trailer below gives an impression of the use of locations and sets and I’ve chosen the stills to show this as well.