Unlike its predecessor, ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ (2018), Mike Flanagan’s signature second instalment focuses less on the dread and more on the emotional side of things. The ‘it’s not a ghost story, it’s a love story’ phrase has been around for quite a while, and it takes on a meaning of its own in ‘The Haunting of Bly Manor’ (2020). The original, ‘every love story is a ghost story’, can be found in a letter that David Foster Wallace wrote to the late Richard Elman back in 1986. Both expressions could easily fit within the walls of Bly Manor and make perfect sense.

I do enjoy the ghostly anthology style, and here’s to hoping that Mr Flanagan will undertake other such projects in the future. There are so many haunted places in this world, and so few artists who are truly equipped to tell these stories with adequate profundity and emotional intensity… it would be a shame not to produce more of this stuff.

‘THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR’ (2020), ©NETFLIX

While I understand that Bly Manor may have disappointed some viewers who previously applauded Hill House, a fraction of the blame can be placed on the marketing department. We went in expecting something else, but I found strange enlightenment in the end, an ‘Aha!’ sparkle that brought me back to the ‘love story, ghost story’ trope above. Truth be told, no respectable haunting was ever a gory horror tale with blood and guts and jump-scares. Ghosts are fingerprints of the past in our collective folklore, spectres who are unable to let go, even in death, and some of whom are able to influence the world of the living.

It means we have to deal with sadness, remorse, longing, and other equally consuming feelings that we experience in the presence of death and the absence of those we loved and lost. Therefore, a true ghost story has multiple dimensions. A good ghost story is able to break your heart, and Mike Flanagan does it in two different styles with both Hill House and Bly Manor. The former explores the grief and bitterness that suicide leaves behind. The latter studies love and its dysfunctions as they unravel under the influence of a spirit whose rage binds everyone to her. Both have mysterious, almost-sentient houses as leading characters.

‘THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR’ (2020)

Mike Flanagan has become a master of the genre with both limited series, but also with his work on Stephen King’s ‘Gerald’s Game’ (2017) and the more recent ‘Doctor Sleep’ (2019). His writing style has an almost poetic depth I’ve only seen in Shirley Jackson and Henry James, which is probably why he resonated so beautifully with these illustrious authors’ works. The focus is never really on the actual ghosts. After all, they tell the same story—unresolved issues, the inability to move on, the violence of their death which caused a bruising of the very fabric of existence… it’s always a broken heart at the centre of a haunting, somehow. No, the focus is on the living and on how they cope with loss, with misery, and with the supernatural elements that they never wanted to believe in.

‘The Haunting of Bly Manor’ simply does it with a sweeter tone. The ghosts have a more personal autonomy than those of Hill House. The living and the dead collide, repeatedly, between the walls of the English mansion, its rooms seemingly larger at night—as if the house itself inhales deeply and holds its breath until the light of morning. There is poetry in Carla Gugino’s storytelling monologues. I was pleasantly surprised by its added value, in fact, as I am not really a fan of narrators in moving pictures. Her repetitions have a dramatic effect, evoking the very loops of post-existence that ghosts seemingly go through. I doubt the series would’ve had the same effect without her. Sometimes, telling adds value to showing.

‘THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR’ (2020), ©2020

Some things could have been done differently, sure, but I wouldn’t dare dissect the series down to its bones for this because the transgressions are minimal, at most, and splendidly overshadowed by the extraordinary performances of its actors. Keeping in line with the anthology format we’ve seen before in Ryan Murphy’s ‘American Horror Story’, there are returning cast members who’ve changed their residence from Hill House to Bly Manor. Each of them is exceptional and remarkably versatile.

Victoria Pedretti brings tears to one’s eyes as Dani Clayton, a young woman struggling with her sexuality and a tragedy she feels personally responsible for. Her intensity is only matched by her emotional palette. Few manage to express true and unexpected terror when locked in a closet—few manage to make the viewers themselves take deep breaths to fight a growing sense of claustrophobia, of walls closing in. Dani is also at the centre of the love story that is the hidden heart of this series, able to explore the payoff after having endured incommensurable horrors at Bly Manor and able to bid her lover farewell when the time comes to carry the curse back to its roots.

‘THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR’ (2020), ©NETFLIX

Kate Siegel returns as Viola, the angry and faceless spirit at the root of this nightmare—the former lady of Bly Manor who found herself betrayed and enraged beyond the grave. Her vicious circle break hearts, over and over, as she goes through the motions and consumes everything in her path, even when there is no one left to remember her. Viola is proof that there is nothing worse than being forgotten. Not even death is worse than vanishing into the dark recesses of human history.

Oliver Jackson-Cohen and Henry Thomas came back, as well, as Peter Quint and Henry Wingrave, respectively. One is a deeply flawed but passionate man, and the other… well, they’re more or less the same, actually, despite their financial and societal differences. Carla Gugino is a delightful presence, her deep voice and melancholic gaze working seamlessly as a thread that pulls everyone and everything together.

‘THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR’ (2020), ©NETFLIX

Benjamin Evan Ainsworth and Amelie Bea Smith are both extraordinary as the children of Bly Manor. These sterling thespians are able to build their characters into three dimensions that mercilessly punch holes through one’s stomach. Miles and Flora are both odd—I believe they were written as such, while also trying to stay at least partially true to their age. It’s not an easy task to accomplish, but they both come through quite nicely. They’re ‘perfectly splendid’.

Rahul Kohli as Owen is a dollop of kindness and hope that is desperately needed, particularly in the darkest of times. His love story is the saddest, too, once you realize that he will never be able to bring it to a positive conclusion. But frankly, the true star of Bly Manor and a breath-taking performer that deserves her own crown is T’Nia Miller as Hannah Grose. Hers is the hardest tale to tell. It starts and ends in tears, yet it is filled with love and hope and mountains of empathy strangled by threads of lost time. If anyone ever wondered what being a ghost might feel like, Hannah is an exceptional point of reference.

‘THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR’ (2020), ©NETFLIX

The lasting impact of ‘The Haunting of Bly Manor’, much like its predecessor, comes from the brilliant combination of image and production design. The haunted house takes centre stage, of course, and to achieve a troubling effect evoking of Hill House, Mr Flanagan brought Patricio M. Farrell and art director Hugo Santiago back for Bly Manor. The ghostly Easter eggs, the period pieces, and the spine-tingling details… it all adds up to that subtle dread that’s meant to erode the resolve of everyone involved—characters and viewers alike.

To further strengthen the end result, Flanagan worked with Maxime Alexandre of ‘Annabelle: Creation’ (2017) fame and James Kniest, previously known for ‘Annabelle’ (2014). In an interview with Variety, Mr Kniest addresses the importance of using Hill House as a roadmap for Flanagan’s second Haunting foray.

‘THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR’ (2020), ©NETFLIX

Most of the story’s tone is eloquently captured in the screenplay and through the actors’ performances, but the style and camera language had to also match. With each Haunting, the camera work begins with static and symmetrical angles, gradually evolving into a more fluid and almost organic motion—we saw it in the funeral home with the Crains, and we see it again through the layers we peel away at in Bly Manor. The dark aesthetic delivers stupendously as the truth is gingerly revealed, painting tragedy with a fair palette.

‘THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR’ (2020), ©NETFLIX

At the end of the day, each viewer will make up their own mind regarding ‘The Haunting of Bly Manor’. They may voice discontent and point to insufficiencies whilst praising ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ as the superior of the two. It could go the other way around, as well. Or, better yet, each series will stand alone and with its distinctive set of features, while both pay homage to some of the best ghost tales ever written.

Whether it’s a love story or a ghost story or somewhere in-between, one truth remains. Our fascination with death and whatever might come afterwards is a timeless and endless source of hope and heartbreak.

On Saturday, 10 October 2020, The American Society of Music Arrangers and Composers (ASMAC) hosted an online event as part of their Master Class Series, featuring a very special guest: the prolific Emmy-winning and Academy Award-nominated composer John Debney.

Moderated by composer, arranger, pianist and ASMAC board member, Sylvester Rivers, the master class was cleverly structured into five main topics:

•  Anatomy of a comedy score

•  Anatomy of a rom-com

•  Anatomy of a big action movie

•  How to get inside a director’s head

•  Surviving post-pandemic Hollywood

Famously charismatic and friendly, Debney began the master class with the cheerful statement, ‘Let’s have fun! Let’s have a look inside my crazy musical brain!’

JOHN DEBNEY

A musical chameleon, John Debney has composed music for over 100 films and shows in a variety of genres during his career that spans over three decades, including ‘The Passion of the Christ’, ‘Iron Man 2’, ‘The Jungle Book’, ‘The Princess Diaries’, ‘Star Trek: The Next Generation’, ‘Sea Quest DSV’, ‘A Pup Named Scooby-Doo’, ‘Inspector Gadget’, and ‘The Ant Bully’, to name but a few.

For this class, the composer chose to analyse in detail three big genres: comedy, rom-com, and action. As such, Debney dissected a few of his memorable cues from films like ‘Liar Liar’, ‘Bruce Almighty’, ‘Isn’t It Romantic’, and ‘Iron Man 2’, providing aspiring film composers with advice on how to go about writing music for these genres and important aspects that need to be taken into consideration in each case.

Over the course of three and a half hours, the composer received a plethora of fantastic questions from ASMAC members and attendees alike, graciously answering each and every one of them and offering invaluable advice, as well as words of encouragement to aspiring film composers. He also elaborated on some of the challenges the industry is facing in the time of COVID-19 and how the musicians are adapting.

ASMAC Executive Board President, Gayle Levant, who is also Debney’s long-time friend and harpist on many of his films, joined the composer in reminiscing about their experience of working together. Among other things, she praised Debney for his professionalism, excellent conducting skills, and ability to keep calm in stressful situations.

JOHN DEBNEY PRESENTING DURING THE MASTER CLASS

There were two notable nuggets of wisdom the composer shared with the attendees that are perhaps the most important pieces of advice he has offered during the class. Firstly, Debney encouraged aspiring composers to ‘become the best composer you can become’ by learning all styles of music (even the ones they dislike), studying everything from how to write a melody, to counterpoint, orchestration, conducting and the ranges of each instrument, to work hard, be a good person, treat people well, and to always remain humble.

And secondly, following a question from an attendee regarding the toll that this profession can take on one’s mental health, Debney urged film composers to be disciplined, take care of themselves, make sure they have a great support system and not ‘take it so seriously that it will eat you alive’.

Needless to say, the hours flew by very quickly. The master class was a great opportunity for aspiring composers to get a sneak peek behind the curtain with one of the most successful composers in Hollywood and to learn a few tips and tricks on how to navigate this increasingly competitive landscape.

Now it is perhaps more important than ever to have access to such events, considering the exceptionally challenging times brought about by the pandemic. Not only do they provide attendees with invaluable and entertaining information, but they also help keep the community together and the conversation going on how industry professionals can adapt to the new normal.

To keep up to date with ASMAC future events, visit www.asmac.org, where you can also become a member, or follow their Eventbrite page.

And what a scrumptious hidden gem this is! Parody meets ridicule, and they’re both wrapped up in layers of spoof propaganda, mystery, and action, sprinkled with some comedy and sharp enough sneers to make Ronald Reagan and Nicolae Ceausescu and Mao Zedong cry somewhere deep in the beyond.

Amazon Studios’ ‘Comrade Detective’ (2017) is the show we never knew we needed in these trying times, as people throw words like ‘socialism’ and ‘communism’ around without fully understanding their meaning and complexity. And considering that it was mainly aimed at an American audience, I’d say creators Brian Gatewood and Alessandro Tanaka do a fine job of delivering not only the definitions but also the extremes of two political tenets that have been warring for decades: Communism and Capitalism.

‘COMRADE DETECTIVE’ (2017), ©ALEXANDRU IONITA/AMAZON STUDIOS

Pretending to be found footage of an ‘80s cop buddy TV series of the Romanian Communist era, ‘Comrade Detective’ has been curated and dubbed to fit more modern times. It also features a few hilarious introductions from Channing Tatum, who is also executive producer, and author Jon Ronson.

With a throng of beloved comedy actors dubbing the Romanian characters involved and accompanied by what I can only describe as the most decadent and cheesiest soundtrack, the show packs a funny but bitter pill to swallow. It makes light of both sides in terms of politics and ideology. The West versus the East wrestle behind the Iron Curtain of ‘80s Bucharest, Romania, where a killer wearing a Reagan mask wreaks havoc through the city and even through the ranks of local police.

‘COMRADE DETECTIVE’ (2017), ©AMAZON STUDIOS

Enter Gregor Anghel, splendidly portrayed by Florin Piersic Jr. and voiced by Channing Tatum, and Iosif Baciu, played by the uber-talented Corneliu Ulici and voiced by Joseph Gordon-Levitt. One is a jaded detective who doesn’t always play by the rules, but he’s eager to avenge the murder of his dear colleague, Nikita Ionescu, at the hands of the Reagan killer. The other is a more empathetic and eager police officer who transferred from the countryside to the big city in order to avenge the murder of his dear childhood friend, Nikita Ionescu, at the hands of the Reagan killer. Their different personalities collide and become homogenized by their deep Communist values and their disdain of Capitalism.

Directed by Rhys Thomas of ‘Saturday Night Live’ fame, the series is a surprisingly tasteful pastiche that sort of claps back at the likes of ‘Red Dawn’ (1984) and ‘Rocky IV’ (1985) which, according to Mr Gatewood, was essentially propaganda in the United States at the height of the Cold War. Mr Tatum went on to remember his own childhood in the ‘80s, where virtually every movie had a Russian villain. With ‘Comrade Detective’, the writers decided to show the world what life would have been like for the ‘other side’, for the dreaded ‘Commies’—in an anything-but-serious fashion whilst also delivering a remarkably poignant message for America and the West, in general.

‘COMRADE DETECTIVE’ (2017), ©AMAZON STUDIOS

From an ideological perspective, both political establishments get skewered in this series. Russian Communism, for its indoctrination and often absurd, bloody extremes despite its otherwise good intentions, and American Capitalism, for its hypocrisy and lack of self-control, for its greed and absence of social justice. In the end, both dogmas are the villains, and their representatives are simply doing the best they can with what they are given, genuinely believing that their path is the righteous one. Though it pretends to portray the real Communist society of Romania from that period, ‘Comrade Detective’ treads gently when it comes to character development. Credit where it’s due, as Gatewood and Tanaka do a surprisingly good job of portraying a world that very few in the West ever got a chance to truly observe.

‘COMRADE DETECTIVE’ (2017), ©AMAZON STUDIOS

Of course, there are plenty of bloopers and minor inaccuracies, but I’ll forgive it all for how the writers treat their characters from beginning to end. There are twists and there are plenty of turns—not to mention questions. The villain is the psychopathic embodiment of American Capitalism, but we also get a reluctant yet helpful hand through Jane, Secretary-turned-Ambassador for the United States in Bucharest.

There is also a plethora of the chucklesome and the chilling along the way, too. While American viewers might find themselves forced to peer into an exaggerated mirror that shows the ugliest side of their culture, Romanian viewers will have a hard time letting go of the bitter taste of nostalgia. Few people miss that decade.

‘COMRADE DETECTIVE’ (2017), ©AMAZON STUDIOS

In terms of performances, Mr Piersic Jr. and Mr Ulici are exquisite loyal Communist cops with smart-ass jabs and multifaceted pasts. Olivia Nita is an intriguing Jane, additionally spiced up by SNL alumna Jenny Slate’s dubbing. And speaking of voice acting, this series managed to put together an impressive cast that includes Jason Mantzoukas, Fred Armisen, Chloë Sevigny, Nick Offerman, Beck Bennett, and Daniel Craig, to name but a few. The Romanian actors are equally stupendous—I was particularly impressed by Diana Vladu’s Sonya Baciu, Iosif’s loving and fiercely Communist wife. A Mexican proverb says that the house does not rest on the ground but rather on the shoulders of a woman—it certainly applies to Sonya.

With a score composed by Joe Kraemer of ‘Jack Reacher’ (2012) fame, ‘Comrade Detective’ aims to immerse its viewers into the gritty atmosphere of an era long gone. Quality-wise, the series is infinitely better than what Romanian studios would’ve been able to produce at the time. Sam Goldie, better known for his work on ‘Green Zone’ (2010) and ‘Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone’ (2001), is the cinematographer in charge of rendering this delightfully fun morsel of lampooned propaganda. Worth noting here that the team behind this project, beginning with the writers and going all the way into the set decoration and costume departments, never aimed to spoof Communism as Americans but rather imagined themselves as the Communist Romanians who “created” it.

‘COMRADE DETECTIVE’ (2017), ©AMAZON STUDIOS

A tip of the hat goes to Dan Toader, production designer, also known for ‘What Happened to Monday’ (2017) and ‘The Sisters Brothers’ (2018). Drawing from reality and his own memories of the Communist period, Mr Toader finds the appropriate design and colour tone to make ‘Comrade Detective’ just a smidge more realistic. I find it easier to believe the story and its anything-but-subtle characters when everything around them reminds me of my own childhood.

But all the talents involved aside, I would like to go back to the idea behind this witty production, which was so simply and eloquently described by Joseph Gordon-Levitt in an article penned for IndieWire. It ‘isn’t only making fun of Eastern Bloc Communism. It takes a few shots at Western Capitalism, but in my opinion, that’s not it, either. There’s a different “ism” that I think it’s really getting at—tribalism.’

And in that sense, he couldn’t be more right. Yes, we can make fun of the silly woollen hats and the preposterous propaganda and the appreciation of televised chess matches as though they were Superbowl Sunday games, and we can make fun of the overweight Americans gorging on hamburgers and the summarily dressed American women who snicker at the ways of these backwards Communist ‘pieces of scum’, but we’d be blind to the bigger picture. Both sides wholeheartedly believe that their culture is the best and that everything else isn’t just wrong. It’s evil.

‘COMRADE DETECTIVE’ (2017), ©AMAZON STUDIOS

It’s enough to take a look around today and see how polarized the world has become. The Left versus the Right. Labour versus Conservatives in the United Kingdom. Democrats versus Republicans in the United States. Naturally, no one really likes the politics of life in this day and age, yet it has all become an integral part of our existence. We forget that what we do and who we are—regardless of our creeds and affiliations—wasn’t always this, and it won’t always be this, either. Policies change. The world itself changes.

And though ‘Comrade Detective’ addresses a society that is no longer there, we can’t help but look at it as a thinly veiled warning. It won’t be the resurgence of Communism or the malignancy of out-of-control Capitalism that will destroy us. It will be the aforementioned tribalism and our growing inability to look beyond our bubbles. In that sense, the series does raise a few queries.

How much of what we believe is actually ‘right’? How wrong are we in our ways, and we didn’t even know it? Given what a complicated year this has been thus far, I say it’s time we consider finding answers to these questions.

Or so I feel, at least, upon watching Aaron Guzikowski’s masterpiece on HBO Max. I have not been this excited about a sci-fi series since ‘The Expanse’ (2015), and for good reason. ‘Raised by Wolves’ (2020) is a story about humanity’s last chance at survival after nearly destroying itself. The root of the problem? Religious fundamentalism injected into an authoritarian state versus atheist militias that are willing to become the very monsters they fight against in order to defeat their enemy. But there is more to this than mere concepts of extremism and advanced artificial intelligence.

This is also a story about children, for they are the future.

‘Raised by Wolves’ follows two androids tasked with establishing a human colony on planet Kepler-22B. All they have is a space pod with advanced technology and a handful of human children they must raise in an atheist manner, much like the androids’ ‘creator’, Campion Sturges. While Father is a state-of-the-art service humanoid, Mother is a repurposed Necromancer, a veritable killing machine with a wide array of deadly abilities. Due to her reprogramming as a nurturer, however, Mother doesn’t remember her downright murderous past as a weapon in the hands of the Mithraic, the religious zealots who practically destroyed Earth. She does rediscover the aforementioned abilities, and so her character arc begins as she is tested in her mission to protect the children.

‘RAISED BY WOLVES’ (2020), HBO/HOME BOX OFFICE

Kepler-22B is not a welcoming planet. It is mostly arid, with freezing nights and deadly creatures lurking in the darkness. Worse even, the androids fail to raise all the children they brought over from Earth. Some succumb to incurable illnesses, while others perish in tragic accidents. Only one, named after Campion Sturges, survives. He becomes a key element as two different worlds begin to collide right in front of him, threatening to change not only his views but also how he perceives life.

The Mithraic have caught up, now docking their enormous Ark into orbit. They have resources, a military force and advanced technologies, and conflict quickly erupts when Mother retaliates and nearly obliterates the entire fleet while taking a handful of children away to replace the ones she lost. One can rarely observe a finer metaphor to address a mother’s grief.

‘RAISED BY WOLVES’ (2020), ©HBO/HOME BOX OFFICE

Enter Marcus and Sue, two Atheists posing as Mithraic soldiers, desperate to get their son back from Mother’s clutches. It becomes increasingly hard to root for them once it becomes clear that all Mother wants is to fulfil the original Campion’s dream of a better humanity—a world where no religion exists. Her sole objective is to raise children into worthy humans.

It becomes a battle for our very souls as we begin to see the flaws in our species, so eloquently portrayed by the Mithraic against the sweet and ignorant innocence of younglings. Between them, Mother and Father struggle to do the right thing, shocking us with their ability to learn, to protect, and to love. This complex series is insanely ambitious and downright mind-blowing on multiple levels, and I cannot recommend it enough.

‘RAISED BY WOLVES’ (2020), ©HBO/HOME BOX OFFICE

Aaron Guzikowski is no stranger to bold and compelling projects. Better known for penning the screenplays for ‘Papillon’ (2017) and ‘Prisoners’ (2013), the American director has been a showrunner before with ‘The Red Road’ (2014-2015), starring Jason Momoa. Through ‘Raised by Wolves’, however, one can see his spectacularly steep learning curve. It is an impressive accomplishment, to say the least, made even more important with the involvement of luminaries such as Ridley Scott, who also directed the first two episodes.

At the heart of every good film or series is a good screenplay, and it is truly a delight to follow ‘Raised by Wolves’ as it smashes through pretty much every barrier of its genre. Its rhythm isn’t frantic because the story has time to develop, easing us into this strange world much like Mr Scott’s ‘Prometheus’ from a few years back, but it’s not too slow, either. There is hardly a moment where one might get lost. Its threads are loose but gradually coming together in a splendid weave as the religious (Mithraic, worshipers of a deity named Sol), the atheists (Marcus, Sue, Mother, Father), and the non-religious (young Campion) are forced into a series of situations that bring about change on a deeper, fundamental level. When this is over, when we reach the final conclusion, no one will be the same again.

Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of ‘Raised by Wolves’ is how far the writer is willing to go with an AI’s ability to understand and experience love. For us, humans, it is a sentiment brought on by social interaction and hormonal reactions. What is it like for Mother, one wonders? Her feelings are clear and undeniable. Her emotions raw despite her otherwise strict programming. Mother’s journey from former villain to a hero for her children is truly a splendid feat of screenwriting.

‘RAISED BY WOLVES’ (2020), ©HBO/HOME BOX OFFICE

The performances are simply out of this world. Amanda Collin and Abubakar Salim as Mother and Father, respectively, are the heroes that nobody saw coming. It’s impossible not to root for Mother when she is willing to sacrifice herself in order to teach Winta McGrath’s young Campion that violence—though a defining trait of her original design—is not and should never be an option. It’s hard not to love Father for how hard he tries to make everyone happy, teaching the children to survive in a harsh environment while figuring out ways to please his otherwise dangerous partner.

Travis Fimmel of ‘Vikings’ (2012-2017) and ‘Warcraft’ (2016) fame is a beautifully troubling and imperfect Marcus. Niamh Algar is Sue, who does the best she can with what she believes and what she is given. They’re both Atheist Militants pretending to be Mithraic after facial reconstruction surgery. They killed Paul’s parents and took their place on the Ark. It was the only way that they could survive. Prior to their arrival to Kepler-22B, survival and revenge had been their core objectives, but after spending thirteen years in a virtual simulation coma, both Marcus and Sue have become attached to Paul, sweetly portrayed by Felix Jamieson.

To make matters worse, not only has their ‘son’ been taken by a seemingly lethal Necromancer, but Marcus is hearing the god Sol’s voice in his head—this, in turn, bumps him up the hierarchical ladder within the surviving Mithraic cluster that is determined to turn Kepler-22B into another Earth, complete with churches and strict religious traditions.

‘RAISED BY WOLVES’ (2020), ©HBO/HOME BOX OFFICE

The children stand out on their own, most of them torn from a zealous cradle and taught by androids, of all things, about compassion, fairness, and mercy. Each of them has a story to tell. Campion is confused by this concept of Sol as the supreme entity but eager to do right by others. Paul wishes to please the parents who have spent most of his life ignoring him, prior to the Ark. Tempest, brought to life by the talented Jordan Loughran, has to deal with an unwanted pregnancy after she was raped during her virtual simulation coma. Aasiya Shah’s Holly and Ethan Hazzard’s Hunter are more bound to the Mithraic than they are to their new android parents. Naturally, betrayal turns the tides and breaks many hearts as the viewers helplessly watch the past repeating itself.

Of course, none of this would be as profoundly arresting without the spectacular camerawork. Mr Guzikowski employs the talents of three stellar cinematographers for ‘Raised by Wolves’, each of them leaving an imprint on their respective episodes. Ross Emery, better known for his work on ‘I, Frankenstein’ (2014) and ‘The Wolverine’ (2013), is responsible for five chapters, including the pilot. Eric Messerschmidt of ‘Mindhunter’ (2017) and ‘Legion’ (2018) renown delivers a visceral vision through three episodes. A noticeable surprise comes from Dariusz Wolski, who has returned to work with Ridley Scott again after ‘The Martian’ (2015) and the epic ‘Prometheus’ (2012).

‘RAISED BY WOLVES’ (2020), ©HBO/HOME BOX OFFICE

Also from the ‘Prometheus’ era, Marc Streitenfeld signs the series’ score alongside Ben Frost, the latter known for his more sombre work on ‘Dark’ (2017-2020). Everything about ‘Raised by Wolves’ is meant to stir a certain set of emotions, and I dare say it’s a successful endeavour, considering that the opening theme alone is capable of encompassing everything good and awful about us in just a handful of lyrics.

With Tom McCullagh of ‘Game of Thrones’ (2011-2019) and Chris Seagers of ‘Saving Private Ryan’ (1998) signing off on the production design, alongside talented art directors such as Jonathan Hely-Hutchinson and Fiona Gavin, the world of Kepler-22B is as intense and as dreary as the writer intended. It was entirely shot in Cape Town, South Africa, with the production team taking advantage of the country’s breath-taking views, some of which are seamlessly incorporated into the setting. One can’t help but applaud the elegant minimalism of sci-fi elements against the wilderness of an unknown and fundamentally hostile realm. It serves as a metaphor for our condition, as well—try as hard as we’d like, with or without religion, we’re all but fodder for the stars.

‘RAISED BY WOLVES’ (2020), ©HBO/HOME BOX OFFICE

Ultimately, ‘Raised by Wolves’ may be perceived as polarizing by religious and atheist viewers alike, though perhaps more by the former than the latter, but the series only has our truth and our violent history to work with. Billions died and more keep dying in wars fuelled by religion and supremacy of one kind or another. Should a cataclysmic event appear on the horizon of our collective existence, how will we survive? If we’re given a second chance at life, what will we do with it?

In Mr Guzikowski’s extraordinary sci-fi drama, these are the very questions that Mother and Father are trying to answer. It’s a rather disappointing conclusion to say that I expect more from the androids than I do from the humans, but given the current climate in which our world festers, perhaps our greatest hope really does lie in our scientific accomplishments. The series serves as a clear warning about the dangers of extremism in every form, religious and atheist alike.

The ultimate threat to humanity, then, is not artificial intelligence like some great minds of the 20^th century have warned. Ideologies are.

HBO have truly outdone themselves this autumn. There are several shows I’m already raving about, of which some I will cover in heartfelt reviews over the next few weeks, but one has managed to stand out from the very first episode: ‘Lovecraft Country’ (2020). I waited until episode five so as not to get ahead of myself and fall for the good-for-the-first-three-episodes-only trick. The gods of television have been kind, however, so 2020 isn’t entirely in the gutter.

I’m a huge fan of genre storytelling used to explore the unpleasant parts of a nation’s history. Damon Lindelof did a splendiferous job of it with ‘Watchmen’ (2019), which recently garnered a record number of Primetime Emmy nominations—twenty-six! There is simply something about weaving elements of uncomfortable truth into a series otherwise designed to thrill people. It’s the cold shower that no one asked for, yet everyone welcomes at the end. In that sense, Misha Green’s ‘Lovecraft Country’ is an astonishing work of televised art.

Before I dig into what makes me love this show so much, I think a small disclaimer is required for those unaware of the series’ source material. While its title and genre melange bring up plenty of Lovecraftian references, the show doesn’t have much of the master of horror’s actual writings at its foundation. ‘Lovecraft Country’ is based on the eponymous book by Matt Ruff and can be considered an homage to H.P. Lovecraft, at best, as a dark fantasy experiment aiming to combine the depiction of racism in America with spine-tingling fiction and a handful of borrowed shoggoths. Critically acclaimed, the book was bound to reach the screen eventually, considering its multi-layered offer of magic, human nature, and blood-pumping frights.

‘LOVECRAFT COUNTRY’ (2020), ©HBO/HOME BOX OFFICE

There were many ways in which the show’s narrative and overall performance could have gone awry. Its success might have something to do with Misha Green’s decision to collaborate with Jordan Peele and J.J. Abrams on this project. The former has already made an indelible mark with deliciously frightful works such as ‘Get Out’ (2017) and ‘Us’ (2019), and the latter is a household name in everything sci-fi and utterly fantastic, best known for ‘Star Trek’ (2009), ‘Super 8’ (2011), and ‘Lost’ (2004-2010), among others. ‘Lovecraft Country’ therefore got off to a formidable start.

The story follows Atticus Turner and his closest friends and family as they grapple with the discovery of magic and occult brotherhoods in the midst of Jim Crow America. From the very beginning, we’re treated to remarkably strong and three-dimensional characters faced with insanely difficult challenges—and that’s before the monsters even show up. What I appreciate most is the apparent irregularity in the narrative thread: if episodes 1 to 2 gave us a thorough introduction into the Sons of Adam lodge and Atticus’s connection to them, for example, episode 3 focuses mostly on Leti and the haunted Victorian mansion she buys on Chicago’s North Side, while episode 4 pulls the story back on the Sons of Adam and Atticus’s determination to learn magic so that he might use it to protect those he loves, and episode 5 takes us closer to Ruby as she gets to experience life in the skin of a white woman. There are so many shades of weird and spooky, repeated viewings are a must!

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Where the writing is concerned, multiple influences can be identified in the series’ screenwriting. H.P. Lovecraft aside, I’m reminded of Alan Ball’s ‘True Blood’ (2008-2014), given the infusion of sex, mysticism, blood, and oh, so much gore. The story is solid, with good source material and excellent character development—I love each and every one of them intensely. Atticus brought ghosts of the Korean War with him back to America, distraught by the realization that he, too, is capable of inflicting harm and pain and death upon others. Worst of all, he’s more like his father than he’d thought, and that becomes his shadow. Montrose is a complex man, to say the least, struggling with a murky past, his own sexuality, and his lethal, desperate desire to keep magic out of his son’s reach, the very son he beat the living daylights out of as a child.

Leti is young, the element of arousing innocence that finds unexpected courage in the face of mortal danger. She’s the balancing force against Atticus’s rage, and the superb portrait of a strong black woman in defiance of America’s white dominance of the Jim Crow era. Ruby is the older sister, a spicy combination of resentment and deep emotional hurt—she has seen and endured plenty more than her lighter-skinned sister, and she has stories of her own to tell. Even Christina Braithwaite and William are fascinating forces of disruption, while Hippolyta and George Freeman bring a sprinkle of wisdom and maturity to the boiling pot, despite the tragic end to their decades-long love story.

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The performances are absolutely stellar from top to bottom. Jonathan Majors as Atticus Freeman is beyond compelling. Better known for ‘The Last Black Man in San Francisco’ (2019), Mr Majors’s star is rising fast, and it is easy to see why as he breathes his whole life into Atticus. Jurnee Smollett takes everyone’s breath away as Leti Lewis, bold and perhaps a little reckless but eager to live a full life and do the right thing. Yes, the world is full of creepy and awful things—particularly people, though Leti pushes forward and does whatever is humanly possible to save herself and to help others.

In a spectacular contrast, Michael Kenneth Williams of ‘The Wire’ (2002-2008) and ‘Boardwalk Empire’ (2010-2014) gives Montrose a plethora of sides for the viewer to study. He’s the former abuser, the looming father figure that Atticus tried his best to step away from yet ended up being a lot alike. He’s the man learning to love another man after years of hiding his true self in a society that doesn’t look kindly on LGBTQ people. He’s the saboteur who knows more than he is telling us and will even kill to keep magic out of his son’s reach—not because he doesn’t want Atticus to have some kind of advantage against the white oppressors but because he knows… he has seen what such power will do. His apparent antagonism makes sense once you understand the trauma he survived prior to his rescue.

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Aunjanue Ellis, better known for her role as Madeleine Hightower in ‘The Mentalist’ (2008-2015) and as Sharonne Salaam in Ava Duvernay’s ‘When They See Us’ (2019), delivers a rendition in ‘Lovecraft Country’ like nothing I’ve seen before. Her Hippolyta loves Courtney B. Vance’s George Freeman deeply, but she is forced to adjust to life without him practically overnight. She tries to understand what happened. And while Atticus, Montrose, and Leti do their best to protect her from the ugly truth, Hippolyta charges head-first at the problem. The truth is more important, regardless of its aesthetic.

Wunmi Mosaku is Ruby Baptiste. The Nigerian actress has several impressive credits to her name—among them ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’ (2016) and ‘Philomena’ (2013), but it’s in ‘Lovecraft Country’ that one sees the full spectrum of what she has to offer: impeccable talent and a smouldering gaze that will burn a whole set down. Ruby is bursting with musical talent and the desire for a better life, for dignity and equality in a society that denies her purely because of her skin colour. Magic becomes a double-edged blade for Ruby. It takes her a while to realise that magic, unlike humans, does not see colour. It only gives its wielder the opportunity to do whatever they want, as Miss Braithwaite might say.

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‘Lovecraft Country’ is not Misha Green’s first foray as a showrunner. She brings plenty of experience to the table with ‘Helix’ (2014) and ‘Underground’ (2016-2017), along with an in-depth understanding of the source material and of the history of racial dynamics in the United States. One would need both to produce something so multifaceted and complex, so fascinating, so beautiful and horrifying at the same time.

Aside from its aforementioned Lovecraftian influences, the show is also a visual tribute to George Romero. It’s what horror filmmakers of the past century could only dream of. We have the constantly developing SFX technology and computer animation to thank for that. The mastery begins with the cinematographers in this case—namely, Robert McLachlan and Michael Watson. You’ll remember Mr McLachlan for his Emmy-nominated work on ‘Game of Thrones’ (2011-2019) and ‘Ray Donovan’ (2013-2020), and Mr Watson for ‘Underground’ and ‘Black Lightning’ (2018-2019), both capable of formidable imagery to accompany the equally exceptional production design, signed by Kalina Ivanov and Howard Cummings.

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Moving past the magnificent costume and set design and the production’s brilliant art direction, which when combined manage to easily submerge the viewer in 1950s Chicago, a tip of the hat is owed to the special effects—the result of Ms Green’s collaboration with Academy-Award-winning creative studio Framestore.

Truth be told, I’d envisioned the shoggoth monsters more along the lines of how H.P. Lovecraft had described them in ‘At the Mountains of Madness’: ‘Formless protoplasm able to mock and reflect all forms and organs and processes – viscous agglutinations of bubbling cells – rubbery fifteen-foot spheroids infinitely plastic and ductile’, but Framestore’s proposal in the ‘Sundown’ and ‘Whitey on the Moon’ episodes were just as frightening, if not worse.

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‘Lovecraft Country’ is full of such moments where dread is mercilessly induced, and a rapid heart rate is expected. Ruby’s metamorphosis continues to haunt me even as I write this review. George Romero would be giggling with sheer joy at this point, for Misha Green manages to make the viewer’s stomach churn while forcing them to keep watching—this is just too good to miss any of it, even the gooey, bloody, slimy and gory parts, proving that beauty exists in horror, too. There’s no shortage of violence and limbs flying, either, but they only serve as minor plot devices.

The true horror of ‘Lovecraft Country’ comes not from the monsters and the dark magic that it loves to play with in each episode. It doesn’t come from the many secrets still left to uncover about the Sons of Adam, either. No, the true horror of ‘Lovecraft Country’ comes from mankind and the terrible things too many people are willing to do in their quest for absolute dominance over the rest of the world and over those they foolishly consider inferior. The true monsters aren’t the shoggoths.

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The true monsters are those who perpetuate racism to this day. The near-deadly troubles that Atticus and his friends deal with are basically what one too many Black Americans continue to face today, albeit at different levels and in varying circumstances. In that sense, ‘Lovecraft Country’ is a heart-breaking, compelling study of Black Americans and their painful history. I’ve seen enough to eagerly see this season’s journey to the end.

Mike Flanagan is a darling of horror film festivals and a rapidly rising star of the genre. Therefore, I was not at all surprised upon learning that he had been tasked with bringing Stephen King’s ‘Doctor Sleep’ onto the silver screen. On the contrary, I was excited, and fortunately, my initial expectations were met although not dramatically exceeded. Don’t get me wrong, I was not disappointed, though I do feel like Mr Flanagan was constantly torn between pleasing both Kubrick and King audiences—surely, we agree they’re not one and the same.

Adapting Stephen King’s works has always been a hit and a miss process, with some exquisite cinematic masterpieces like ‘The Shining’ (1980), the celebrated precursor to ‘Doctor Sleep’, as well as ‘The Shawshank Redemption’ (1994), ‘Carrie’ (1976), ‘The Green Mile’ (1999), and ‘Stand by Me’ (1986), to name but a few. I’m relieved to be able to place Flanagan’s work into the good pile rather than the bad, where bombs like ‘Needful Things’ (1993) and ‘Maximum Overdrive’ (1986) dwell.

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‘Doctor Sleep’ has ginormous shoes to fill, and Mr Flanagan does an excellent job of not getting himself lost inside them. After all, ‘The Shining’ suffered critical modifications from book to screen. Most of you might remember that Mr King hated Kubrick’s adaptation so much that he invested in a remake which unsurprisingly bombed. As far as the storyline goes, ‘Doctor Sleep’ picks up where ‘The Shining’ left off—both the movie and the book, which had to be tied up somehow in a manner that made sense. The book saw the Overlook Hotel exploding. The film clearly didn’t. Some assembly was required.

In the first ‘chapter’ of the film, we follow young Danny Torrance at first with his mum, both of them learning to live with the trauma and grief after leaving Jack for dead at the Overlook. While Shelley Duval and Jack Nicholson dominated ‘The Shining’ back in 1980, Flanagan’s sequel adaptation has Henry Thomas and Alex Essoe as Jack and Wendy. Aesthetically grand choices, both talented and intense enough to portray iconic characters. Danny is trying to cope with his ‘shining’, his special ability that brought the Overlook to life, so to speak, in the first place. Having been introduced to death and ghosts and violence from such a young age, it’s difficult for him to move on, especially since the spectres have followed him home.

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After he learns to lock away the bad stuff with a little trick from his memory of Dick Hallorann, Danny delves into adulthood with a serious drinking problem. The film follows him right up to the peak of his crisis. Having used alcohol to cope with his ‘shining’, Danny hits rock bottom when he takes money out of the wallet of a woman with whom he had a coke-and-booze-addled affair the night before.

Ultimately, Danny moves to a small town in New Hampshire, sobers up, attends AA meetings, and remotely befriends Abra Stone, a little girl with a gift like his. Of course, things take the obligatory dip into nightmare territory when a cult of apparent immortals start hunting Abra down, desperate to feed on her ‘shining’ in order to further prolong their lives—her power could feed them for entire generations, unlike other kids with ‘steam’, as they call it, these days. Danny must therefore mentor and protect the girl against these monsters, who will stop at nothing to kill her.

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I am in awe of Ewan McGregor. He manages to do a lot more with an otherwise bland character—the book’s strength did not come from Danny Torrance, not where ‘Doctor Sleep’ is concerned, at least. The kid version of him from ‘The Shining’ was a strong presence. But Mr McGregor breathes life into a grown-up Danny with his fears and vulnerabilities and self-loathing. We believe him as the alcoholic in desperate need of redemption, and we believe him as the man who is ready to face the demons of his past, including his own father, in order to protect the future, here portrayed by young Abra Stone.

His growth as Doctor Sleep, the kind soul who guides the dying hospice patients where he works into the afterlife, is done with a certain solemnity and reverence towards death itself. This particularly poignant side of him has roots in Flanagan’s writing, too, carrying over several touching notes from ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ (2018). McGregor’s Danny isn’t just the main character, however. He is also the supporting element for Kyliegh Curran’s Abra—not necessarily a father figure but more of a Dick Hallorann himself.

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Ms Curran’s interpretation of a teenage girl who has grown with a titanic ‘shining’ is also noteworthy. While still young, she does not lack the talent to bring Abra to life as Mr King penned her. She is not a victim, nor is she entirely invulnerable. No, Abra is aware of how insanely awesome she is, but Danny does help to remind her that she is not invincible, either—that’s something she also gets from those frightful telepathic encounters with Rose the Hat.

From Abra’s point of view, I’d say that ‘Doctor Sleep’ is less a tale of empowerment and more a journey of overcoming trauma and horrific violence, as Abra sees the terrible things that The True Knot cult are willing to do for power like hers.

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Truth be told, I believe it’s Rebecca Ferguson’s stunning performance as Rose the Hat, the cult’s leader, that truly carries the film into the realm of greatness. The book offered little for us to work with as readers. There were plenty of gaps to be filled, yet Ms Ferguson, better known for her roles in ‘Mission: Impossible – Fallout’ (2018) and ‘The Greatest Showman’ (2017), manages to build an impressively spooky and authentic villain. There is depth in her persona and a truly desperate hunger for immortality.

While she has been a conscientious collector, her cult’s supply of ‘steam’ is running low, and their more recent victims have not been enough to feed them in the long term. The entire ‘tribe’ is a strange combo of misfits with sociopathic tendencies who live in their RV’s, crossing the entire country in search of more ‘steam’ to keep themselves young for longer. Their villainy is interesting, however, because they’re aware that they cannot live forever. Everything they do is solely for the purpose of cheating the clock. Rose and The True Knot are troubling metaphors for those in the real world who thrive and feed on pain and misery.

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In writing the screenplay adaptation, Mike Flanagan had to reconcile two sides of the same coin in a manner aimed at drawing and pleasing two kinds of fans—the Kubrick aficionados who still refer to ‘The Shining’ as one of the best movies ever made and the King devotees whose guilty pleasure is watching ‘The Shining’ since it is still superior to the remake. Both sides equally demanding. The writer-director faithfully recreates the elegant dread and the layered terror that made the Overlook so memorable. It is still home to a variety of live-in fiendish phantoms and a nightmarish cradle to which we are forced to return.

Story-wise, ‘Doctor Sleep’ builds Danny as the guiding light emerging from his personal darkness, a reluctant mentor to Abra’s fierce youth. She may be young, but she knows that she might be the only one who can stand up to the True Knot. On the other hand, Danny has his past demons to deal with—starting with the undying presence of his father, the spirits he locked inside boxes in his head, and the Overlook, where he knows they will have a better shot at defeating Rose the Hat.

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Mike Flanagan’s ‘Doctor Sleep’ is quite the visual treat, too. Rife with emotional close-ups and mainly adhering to a nocturnal grey and blue palette, the film can be seen as an extension to ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ and as a loving tribute to Kubrick’s original imagery. Michael Fimognari has worked with Flanagan before, on ‘Gerald’s Game’ (2017), another King adaptation, and on the above noted Shirley Jackson-based Netflix miniseries. I see this as a fruitful partnership, as Mr Fimognari not only understands the sophisticated yet heart-rending style that has become Flanagan’s signature, he also manages to convey the Kubrick-inspired imagery meant to tie ‘Doctor Sleep’ to ‘The Shining’.

The lighting is low, and there is much to work with in the darkness. Rose the Hat and Crow Daddy and Snakebite Andi are thrice as scary whilst glazed in shadows, each of them hungry for a few more years, a bit more youth. In Danny’s room, the tenebrosity serves to remind us where he comes from and where he’s been, while in Abra’s room it is a medium for her to sink into when she sleeps and unwittingly witnesses the terrible murders committed by Rose and her deranged crew.

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But it’s the production design that really does it for me. The sets, in particular, stand on the shoulders of Roy Walker and Leslie Tomkins. Combined with Fimognari’s cinematography, however, the viewer is mercilessly dragged back to the real Overlook—the ‘70s style orange and brown geometric carpets, the high ceilings with wagon-wheel chandeliers, the terracotta walls and the red-door elevators… the chills just rush through and anchor us so deep into the story, we cannot escape. Not until Danny deals with his past.

Production designer Maher Ahmad, best known for ‘The Fugitive’ (1993), ‘Zombieland’ (2009), and ‘Little Evil’ (2017), and art director Richie Bearden of ‘Den of Thieves’ (2018) and ‘Game Night’ (2018) are just two of the team that delivers the superb visuals behind ‘Doctor Sleep’, and they deserve a round of heartfelt applause. It’s not just the Overlook that stands out, however. A personal favourite of mine is the visual duet between Abra and Danny’s room, the latter fitted with a blackboard wall on which she leaves him telepathic chalk messages. And then there are the minds of our characters—Danny’s with its boxes and Abra’s with its traps for Rose.

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While there are plenty of Kubrickian nods, the film ultimately stands more as a longer episode of ‘The Haunting of Hill House’, combining soul-stirring and supernatural elements that cause all kinds of jumps and jolts in the viewers. And while Mike Flanagan, a man of many talents, works hard in treading that fine line between Stanley Kubrick and Stephen King whilst building on the heritage of ‘The Shining’ left by both, he is at his peak when left to his own devices.

‘Doctor Sleep’ is the most beautiful when it steps away from its source material and predecessor, standing boldly as a cinematic oeuvre. By adding its own flavours into the mix, it expands on the book with deeply fascinating characters—I, for one, find it hard not to sympathize a little with Rose the Hat’s desire to remain young for longer. Of course, the end does not justify the means. Innocent children are tortured and murdered for the most selfish reasons, and so the horror transpires brutally onto the screen. Ultimately, Mike Flanagan follows his creative path and gifts us with a story that does not disappoint.

It has been a while since I’ve gasped during a thriller, yet Leigh Whannell’s ‘The Invisible Man’ (2020) managed to do just that and more. Calling it an adaptation of H.G. Wells’ novel would be perhaps too much, since the film retains only a loose connection to the classic sci-fi story. To compensate for such a departure from the original, Whannell’s version borrows from the Ring of Gyges in Plato’s ‘Republic’, an artefact which is said to grant its owner the power to become invisible at will—leading to a protagonist that can enter any home. No one is truly safe.

The film opens with Cecilia as she carefully goes ahead with an escape plan that she has clearly been working on for a while. It’s almost botched, but her sister Emily helps her with a ride. Only then do we see exactly how dangerous and abusive her successful, ridiculously rich, and controlling boyfriend Adrian really is. What follows is meant to be a slow but steady journey of healing. Or so it begins, at least. News of Adrian’s suicide reach Cecilia, who then learns that she has also been designated as one of his heirs. Tom, Adrian’s brother, handles the estate, and everything about him just feels odd.

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Even so, we’re led to believe better days are ahead. Cecilia struggles with the trauma of both physical and psychological abuse that clearly lasted years, but she’s learning to trust and live again while sheltered in her friend James’s house and in the company of his teenage daughter. Slowly, but surely, Cecilia should eventually heal. Then things go bump in the night. Adrian doesn’t seem to have left her. Not really. He lingers, unseen yet heard and sensed. Like a ghost. What starts out as a mere whiff of paranoia blows into soul-crushing horror as we realize that Cecilia isn’t losing her mind, even though everyone around her thinks she is. Adrian Griffin never died. An expert in the field of optics, he developed a suit that allows him to be invisible, and that is how he proceeds to torment and torture the one woman who dared to get away from him.

If we strip the horror and science fiction elements away, what we’re left with is a gut-wrenching tale of harassment and domestic abuse. Adrian literally gaslights Cecilia, pushing her to think that she is losing her mind before he tears her away from the few people she loves and cares about. We descend into dread and madness when he slits Emily’s throat and slips the knife into Cecilia’s hand before she can even react. Just like that, the heroine is framed for murdering her own sister and confined to a psychiatric facility, where the villain, the concealed terror, continues with his ploy until Cecilia learns that she’s pregnant. She had been taking birth control pills over the course of the relationship and unbeknownst to her, Adrian replaced the pills with something else. Cecilia is now carrying the child of the monster everyone thinks is dead, and it’s his ill-fitting brother that offers her a way out. All she has to do is surrender unto Adrian and return to her old life. A steep price for freedom.

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Don’t let the trailer fool you. You might think it gives away the story. It doesn’t. ‘The Invisible Man’ is brilliantly executed, and most of its strength comes from three key elements: Elizabeth Moss’s extraordinary performance as Cecilia; the powerful screenplay, a foundation for this superb sci-fi thriller; and the simplicity of production with a focus on camera work, since the depiction of the invisible man is only partially done with the help of CGI. Everything else comes from old school trickery.

Let’s begin with Leigh Whannell himself. Better known for the ‘Saw’ franchise and ‘Insidious’ (2010), Mr Whannell is one of the master storytellers of his generation. His youthful energy and appreciation of classical production methods seem to work remarkably well together. It makes him stand out among his peers, since cinema is mostly about our ability to convey a story and make the viewers feel whatever we want them to feel.

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Leading the movie through its carefully designed twists and turns is Elizabeth Moss. Her talent has already garnered heaps of applause and critical appreciation. She has already won two Golden Globes—one for ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ (2017) and one for ‘Top of the Lake’ (2013), while many might remember her from even farther back as Peggy Olson in ‘Mad Men’ (2007-2015). In an interview, Mr Whannell said that he has worked with incredibly talented actors before, ‘but working with Elizabeth Moss was just a revelation for me. She can do anything.’

Her character’s name, Cecilia, is derived from the Latin ‘caecus’ (‘cecco’ in Italian), which means blind. She’s often called ‘C’ in the film, which is clearly pronounced like ‘see’, and that is but one of the things that stand out about her. C’s journey is one of growing strength, of ascending from a lower place of fear and trauma to a higher ground where she is able to completely let go and say ‘enough’. And Moss delivers a visceral performance with a rare ability of truly becoming Cecilia, of removing her true self from the screen altogether. What we are left with is this terrified woman who is desperately trying to make sense of things. Why won’t anyone believe her? It sounds crazy, yes… but it happened. It’s still happening!

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Oliver Jackson-Cohen of ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ (2018) plays Adrian Griffin. We don’t see him much, but Whannell does such a good job of ‘showing’ him, still, that whenever he is visible on screen, we can’t help but recoil from what a heartless, demented monster lurks beneath that dashing, charming façade of his. Michael Dorman of ‘Patriot’ (2015-2018) and ‘Daybreakers’ (2009) does a marvellous job of portraying Tom Griffin, a character that immediately arouses suspicion and concern even when he’s simply telling Cecilia that she has inherited a fortune. To amplify that sensation of Tom not quite ‘fitting’, Whannell had him wear suits that were two sizes too small. The end result is chilling because Tom devolves into a sublime patsy.

Acting as a counter-balance of normalcy and discipline, Aldis Hodge’s James Lanier feels like a steady thread that we can hold on to for a semblance of comfort while the rest of Cecilia’s life crumbles before her own eyes. Storm Reid’s Sydney Lanier is supposed to represent hope and compassion. So, when both are viciously attacked by the invisible man, it tears us apart. The very idea of freedom and happiness are trampled and beaten bloody. We are thrust into the same nightmare as Cecilia, and she is the only one who can get us out.

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Where the screenplay is concerned, Mr Whannell offers a variety of praiseworthy points. As soon as the film starts, we’re dumped right into the middle of Cecilia’s escape with zero prior exposition. There is no opening to offer a more detailed account of how it got to this point. ‘I wanted to just drop the audience into Cecilia’s situation without a back story and make them feel everything through her, and luckily I had Elizabeth Moss who is very good at communicating a lot to the audience without saying anything.’

Respectful of ‘cinematic language’, the Australian director kept track of what he envisioned the camera doing whilst penning each scene in the script. Through that process, his directorial vision led to the camera moving away from the actors during production, as if it had a mind of its own. The overall effort is translated into a silver screen oeuvre that borrows visual impressions from David Fincher’s ‘Zodiac’ (2007) and startling beats from his own notorious ‘Saw’ (2004).

‘The Invisible Man’ was initially attached to the Dark Universe, with David S. Goyer set to pen the script. Later on, it had Ed Solomon replacing Goyer and Johnny Depp suggested for the titular role before the project was finally given to Whannell. Yet I doubt anyone would have been able to exploit and express dread and spine-freezing terror like he did. Part of the film’s success should be attributed to Jason Blum’s involvement, as well. The founder of Blumhouse Productions brought his own experience to the table where chills and goose-bumps are concerned, since ‘Get Out’ (2017), ‘Paranormal Activity’ (2007) and ‘The Purge’ (2013) are just three of his insanely successful genre-related credits.

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The true stroke of magic comes through its cinematography. ‘The Invisible Man’ features the impressive camera work of Stefan Duscio, a relatively new name in Hollywood with barely a handful of feature credits to his name—chief among them being ‘Backtrack’ (2015) and ‘Jungle’ (2017). But it is here that he proves just how much can be accomplished through the camera, alone.

Elizabeth Moss’s performance wouldn’t have had the same impact without his craft and mainly without the abundance of pan-out movements that make the viewers wonder whether Adrian is there, albeit invisible. The terror is basically fuelled by Duscio’s use of negative space. Plenty of spaces around the characters are included into the story, suggesting that Adrian is, in fact, there. The camera lingers after a line is said, too—a thought provoking gesture that further builds tension because all Cecilia has is this feeling, this sensation of hairs rising on the back of her neck, while we’re watching from the outside, analysing every inch of empty space around her and other characters as we try to guess where Adrian will attack from.

Accompanying the exquisite cinematography is the modest use of VFX to create the invisible man, while Duscio and Whannell’s analogue work of framing and writing, respectively, reigns supreme. The attic scene is particularly memorable not only because of the story-related elements that it reveals, but also because it’s one of the few moments where Duscio was given enough darkness to play with. Throughout the rest of the film, everything is thoroughly illuminated—thus making the challenge of ‘showing’ the invisible man even more daunting.

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Ultimately, the film succeeds where others portraying the ‘apparently crazy woman no one believes’ often fail. We believe Cecilia because we are not given another choice. The way in which the tension is built, Adrian’s punching of the passenger door window, the steamy breath rolling behind her in the middle of the night. The medicine bottle she’d left behind. Moss’s performance alone translates everything that Whannell wanted to portray into a living being, into a woman who is desperate to live freely and unafraid.

The lengths that she is willing to go to in order to achieve that offer an unexpected conclusion to ‘The Invisible Man’. But beyond the floating knives and pulled blankets and peculiar whirring and clicking sounds in an apparently empty room, one truth lingers in the audience’s collective mind: how far will one go to escape and survive their relentless abuser? Leigh Whannell answers with superlative writing and direction, putting a fresh new spin on a timeless tale.

During these trying times, I’ve learned to make the most of what the lockdown has had to offer. Catching up with my movie watchlist has been my favourite activity so far. It brought me to Edward Norton’s ‘Motherless Brooklyn’ (2019), the actor’s second directorial foray and the first which he has written, directed, and starred in. It’s been nineteen years since ‘Keep the Faith’ (2000), the romantic dramedy in which he shared the screen with Jenna Elfman and Ben Stiller, and one can easily tell how much Mr Norton has grown as a filmmaker.

‘Motherless Brooklyn’ received a mixed bag (albeit predominantly positive) attention from critics and the awards circuit, including a nod from the Golden Globes for its emotionally exquisite soundtrack penned by Daniel Pemberton, better known for ‘The Man from U.N.C.L.E.’ (2015) and ‘Steve Jobs’ (2015). Edward Norton received a Satellite Award as a film auteur, as did Beth Mickle and Michael Ahern for their production design and art direction. Dick Pope, of ‘The Illusionist’ (2006) and ‘Secrets & Lies’ (1996) fame was also nominated for his stellar cinematography at Camerimage in Poland.

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Based on the eponymous book by Jonathan Lethem, published in 1999, and while retaining the overall style and story elements, ‘Motherless Brooklyn’ takes place in 1950s New York, as it borrows heavily from the Neo-Noir of Hollywood cinema. In his quest to deliver a memorable film, Norton ultimately throws out the book and offers a different flavour, a period oeuvre that reminds us of those immensely addictive dime detective tales while still doused in a powerful political fragrance.

The move to ‘50s New York was made in part to satisfy Norton’s years-old fascination with Robert Moses, the controversial and dangerously powerful city planner. The film was meant to capture ‘the dark, the shadow narrative of how modern New York really got built—the racism that was sort of baked into the city’, the actor-director once said in an interview. Moses Randolph, Alec Baldwin’s villainous character, is based on the city planner. This creative operation further helped define Norton’s Lionel Essrog, the Tourette-affected private eye, as ‘a really terrific vehicle for going deep into the murk of what happened in New York in that time’.

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Lionel refers to himself as ‘spastic’, a term more frequently heard during the ‘50s. Despite his twitchy and complicated condition, he does everything in his power to find out who killed his friend and mentor, Bruce Willis’s Frank Minna, and to protect Gugu Mbatha-Raw’s delightful Laura Rose. Norton’s performance is beyond exceptional, thoughtful, and respectful of a man suffering from Tourette’s. It is also deeply moving, particularly during the bebop jazz scene—the Trumpet Man, portrayed by Michael Kenneth Williams (you might remember him as Omar Little in ‘The Wire’), delivers a series of random beats and abrupt changes in melody that reach a surprisingly tight unison with Lionel’s own fractured yet wonderfully beautiful mind.

If there is one thing that Mr Norton isn’t in short supply of, it’s talent. His performance works on an even more profound level when coupled with Willem Dafoe’s hallucinating rendition of the neurotic Paul Randolph, architect and humiliated brother of Moses.

Helping Lionel along the way—or, in one case, encumbering him in his efforts to bring Frank’s killer to justice, are the ‘Minna boys’, orphans and colleagues of the deceased detective whom he helped and protected and nurtured over the years. Among them, Bobby Cannavale’s Tony Vermonte stands out.

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Story-wise and specifically from a narrative point of view, the characters’ path will seem predictable at times. Parts of ‘Motherless Brooklyn’ have been done before in other detective movies, written in other Ray Chandler-esque novels. Seen this, done that, sure, and it’s rife with red herrings, of which some are more palatable than others, but, in the end, the film’s central message is powerful—an echo for today’s world. In it, power and ambition continue to shape our society, no matter who dies along the way to make someone’s dreams happen.

Unsurprisingly, the novel faced a similar issue. Salon’s Gary Krist even wrote once that ‘”Motherless Brooklyn” has a few problems—including some cartoon-like stock characters and one scene near the end that flirts with maudlin sentimentality—but it works far better than the average hip postmodern novel in terms of sheer emotional impact. Because Lethem never lets the metaphorical and linguistic possibilities of his narrator’s illness overshadow his immensely appealing humanity, we really care about Lionel and his search for his mentor’s killer’. In many ways, the same can be said about Norton’s film.

There are parts about Tony that might rub a discerning viewer the wrong way, especially in the way he makes his suggestions. Moses’s overall demeanour might carry a bit more flair than usual, and perhaps even Paul’s neuroses may be over the top. In the end, it doesn’t matter, because we are so emotionally invested in Lionel’s quest for truth and justice in the muddied heart of the Big Apple that we cannot be bothered to put the entire movie under a microscope. His resolution is too important. He deserves it more than anyone.

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Dick Pope’s illustrious cinematography brings out the true charm of noir flicks with a modern smoothness that is not easy to attain. There are layers of beauty and sensitivity that require discussion. The two-time Oscar nominee has worked with Norton before on ‘The Illusionist’, therefore having already established a fluid professional relationship with the actor-director. In an interview with SHOOT, Mr Pope said that the biggest creative challenge he had to deal with was ‘bringing to the screen and matching the cinematic expectation of the film that Edward had lived with and dreamt about for nearly 20 years’. Fortunately, the cinematographer was given a gorgeous photobook that Norton had compiled to express his singular vision, to begin with.

According to Mr Pope, there was a clearly spoken desire for an artful lushness to be embedded within the image. There, the old cinema patina was required but without suggesting that the image had been in any way treated or altered. ‘Motherless Brooklyn’ is, in many ways, an ode to ‘Chinatown’ (1974), but it also draws inspiration from ‘40s and ‘50s New York photography by Saul Leiter, Vivian Maier and Robert Frank. Norton even came forth with his own collection of photographs to support the cinematographer’s process—among them, stills of the original Penn Railroad Station were a brilliant source of inspiration for how the movie’s lighting functioned.

As far as the palette and composition are concerned, the desired effect was accomplished. The cinematography of ‘Motherless Brooklyn’ is one of its strongest points, capturing our focus with its powerful shades of yellow and red, its abundance of shadows and darkness, its plays of reflections and negative spaces, and the way in which Lionel’s loneliness and isolation are significantly amplified through camera movement.

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The look and feel of ‘Motherless Brooklyn’ were accomplished with production designer Beth Mickle’s unwavering support and a plethora of inspiration from Robert Caro’s ‘The Power Broker’, a popular biography of Robert Moses. Ms Mickle had her work cut out for her, of course, considering the abundance of period pieces required for the sets.

In one interview, she talked about the initial creative process. Pinterest and Google are key sources of visuals in this day and age, but she still had to do some old-fashioned research along the way. ‘We used to have to go [to] the image library of New York, and we still do a bit of that. But that’s the first step, collecting all the imagery and getting a better sense of the architecture, signage, and graphics. Looking at what kind of vehicles populated the streets. That’s general period research.’

While some of New York’s legendary landmarks remain the same—see the Chrysler Building or the Empire State Building or the Brooklyn Bridge, for example – it is a city that consumes itself and goes through radical changes almost every year. For most New Yorkers, it’s a point of gratification. For Ms Mickle, it’s a point of in-depth analysis. And since Lionel’s journey takes us through the entire city, offering even a breath-taking car chase across Harlem, New York had plenty to offer. The production design and Michael Ahern’s award-winning art direction only took what was already there and brought it back into the ‘50s with minute re-façade techniques.

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Gorgeously rich in sharp, fast-paced dialogue and jazz melodies that are typical of the Neo-Noir style on the silver screen, ‘Motherless Brooklyn’ features music by the revered Wynton Marsalis and a group of veteran jazz musicians such as Joe Farnsworth. Since part of the story takes place in a north Harlem jazz club, Norton has concentrated a substantial amount of effort into creating a genuine and realistic atmosphere of that era, which is why one scene even gives us a dizzying performance of ‘Blues Walk’, originally recorded by Clifford Brown and Max Roach and ‘a staple of that hard-bop era’.

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The film ultimately and successfully transports the viewers into ‘50s New York. Its depiction of Lionel forces them to root for him, to ride out the twitches and the moments of utter loneliness before the sun rises again and sheds light on the ugly truth that dwells in the foundation of one of the world’s most famous cities.

‘Motherless Brooklyn’ has been a long time in the making, its screenplay finished in 2012 and with seven more years of pitching and tweaking to follow before gaining the support of eminent producers like Gigi Pritzker of ‘Drive’ (2011) and Sue Kroll of ‘A Star Is Born’ (2018). A long time in the making, yes, but certainly worth the effort.

One of the few good things to come out of the coronavirus lockdown is a plethora of high-quality theatre, musicals and opera productions that are streamed for free by some of the most reputable arts venues in the world.

One such initiative came from the National Theatre, which has used its Youtube channel to stream some of the most memorable past theatre productions in the NT Live portfolio. Streaming a new play every Thursday at 7.00pm GMT, the productions are then available to watch on demand for seven days.

After kicking off their streaming programme on 2 April with Richard Bean’s ‘One Man Two Guvnors’, on 30 April came the turn of Danny Boyle’s critically acclaimed 2011 production of Mary Shelley’s iconic Gothic tale, Frankenstein. The play was streamed on two consecutive nights, highlighting stellar performances by Benedict Cumberbatch and Jonny Lee Miller who exchanged the roles of the Creature and Victor Frankenstein on each successive evening.

The writer, Nick Dear, and the director, Danny Boyle, moulded the play around the Creature’s point of view, stripping away the various thematic structures present in the book. They preserved a more linear form, choosing to focus on philosophical themes of existentialism, human tendencies and limitations. Perhaps a reflection of the Creature himself, whose sole desire in life is to be a good man and to have a mate to share his earthly existence with.

BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH AS THE CREATURE. © CATHERINE ASHMORE

Notwithstanding the reduced size of the story, it is still quite difficult to fathom how such darkness managed to come out of the mind of an eighteen-year-old young woman, at a time when science was just beginning to make significant strides and when unspoken of gruesome experimentations would take place behind closed doors.

However, galvanism was indeed a popular topic at the time and it must have been difficult to ignore the increasing popularity of mortsafes, which were invented to prevent body snatchers from desecrating graves in exchanges for a few quid from anatomists who would always be looking for fresh cadavers for their scientific observations and experiments.

The play opens with the Creature coming out of a metaphorical womb made out of skin in Frankenstein’s quarters, under Bruno Poet’s a thousand suspended bulbs. As he stumbles and struggles to stand up and keep his balance, he is carefully discovering his physical capabilities. His moves and trajectories seem to have been accurately directed.

SET LIGHTING BY BRUNO POET. © BRUNO POET

The contrast in Cumberbatch’s and Miller’s interpretations of the Creature is swiftly becoming apparent. While Cumberbatch’s Creature makes us root for him as he is rediscovering the world with the innocence of a child, Miller’s rebirth is raw and animalistic, almost having us expect evil doings on his part.

We see the Creature enthuse as he observes the sun, the grass, the birds around him with great curiosity. Nothing seems to await him on his journey but pure discovery and wonder.

The industrial theme of the times is introduced onto the stage by means of a steampunk train full of workers, a décor detail masterfully put together by the production’s set designer, Mark Tildesley.

Doomed to be abhorred by everyone who would set eyes on him, the Creature is quickly introduced to the harsh reality of human cruelness, as he is abused mentally and physically at every step.

He does, however, experience kindness for a brief period of time, as he comes across blind old De Lacey in his path, whose condition doesn’t discriminate against the Creature’s rough appearance. Wonderfully and warmly portrayed by Karl Johnson, the old man welcomes the Creature into his home and over the course of a year educates him on all things philosophy, history and the four seasons.

BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH AS THE CREATURE. © CATHERINE ASHMORE

One key moment in the play is when De Lacey teaches the Creature about the original sin. He says, ‘There are two schools of thought: one says that we’re all made imperfect and require the assistance of a higher authority, a deity to overcome the sin of being born. The other school of thought, to which I subscribe, insists that when we leave the womb we are pure. That a babe in arms is untainted by sin, that evil is the product of social forces and that God has nothing to do with how a man turns out; be it good or be it bad.’

In other words, if the Creature is a monster, it is only because he is met with cruelty and discrimination again and again till his patience runs out and he is forced to exercise vengeance. A monster on the outside, society shapes him into a monster on the inside.

This second school of thought is perhaps a clever mechanism to raise a mirror to our own society and show how each of our actions can prompt even greater reactions, should we be careless.

The play is not all gloomy though. Between the Creature’s sarcastic remarks, Frankenstein’s cluelessness vis-à-vis mundane matters and De Lacey’s witty remarks, the creators have managed to sprinkle this dark tale with unexpected humorous bits.

The main protagonists’ clever role-switching further accentuates the question that nearly every reader of Mary Shelley’s book has asked themselves over the past two centuries: ‘Who is the man and who is the monster?’ Perhaps their distinct interpretations of the Creature reflect the two contrasting schools of thought: one is born pure and the other a sinner. Miller’s Creature seems to subscribe to the latter, while Cumberbatch’s to the former.

Upon meeting the old man’s family, he is once again abused, which prompts him to burn down their house and kill everyone, including his benefactor. The Creature flees to find Frankenstein, having found clues as to his whereabouts in the diary he stole when he fled the scientist’s home.

JONNY LEE MILLER AND BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH. © CATHERINE ASHMORE

As he locates the Frankenstein family, the Creature’s twisted logic dictates that he murders William, Victor’s younger brother, in order to lure his mad maker to him. His plan works like a charm.

As Victor finds him, the Creature asks Frankenstein to build a mate for him, with the promise that once he does, the couple will leave Europe and no one will hear from them again.

Frankenstein obliges and travels to Scotland, leaving behind his patient betrothed Elizabeth (a most gentle Naomie Harris) and his father (a stern yet warm George Harris).

As Victor manages to construct a new creature, female in form this time, his firstborn is promptly besmitten with her and begs Frankenstein to bring her fully to life, explaining that he already loves her.

Another key moment is Victor’s reaction upon hearing the Creature’s detailed account of the physical symptoms of love. Both Frankenstein, and the audience, realise that the scientist himself is incapable of love, having spent his entire life obsessing over his work. He remarks that love is ‘anarchic, volatile, vertiginous, mad. Above all it is uncontrollable!’, perhaps also drawing a parallel between love and the Creature himself.

NAOMIE HARRIS AND JONNY LEE MILLER. © CATHERINE ASHMORE

As the Creature starts to realize that he’s been tricked, Victor hacks the girl’s body, ensuring she would never see the light of day.

Mad with anger, the Creature flees the small hut, only to return a while later on Victor’s wedding day. Managing to avoid a paranoid Frankenstein, who had been expecting his vengeful reappearance ever since, he sneaks into the couple’s bedroom where he meets Elizabeth. She is only the second person to show him understanding and kindness. However, the Creature is only interested in revenge at this point and pays Frankenstein back with the same coin by abusing and murdering his new wife.

Victor Frankenstein leaves his home once more in pursuit of the Creature, following him across continents. When he finally catches up with his creation in the Arctic Circle, they realize they are bound to one another and disappear together into the icy darkness.

National Theatre’s weekly streams are free to watch. However, if you can, please consider supporting the theatre through the coronavirus crisis by donating at nationaltheatre.org.uk or text NTATHOME 10 to 70085 to give £10.

Musicals are my passion. And I know I share it with quite a nice bunch of theatregoers. This passion is not born out of nowhere. It is nourished by productions like the Donmar Warehouse‘s “City of Angels”.

Sadly, due to the current situation with coronavirus, Garrick Theatre had to suspend the performances until further notice. But when (and not if) the theatre opens again its doors for the public, do not miss the show from your radar!

ROSALIE CRAIG AS GABBY AND BOBBI, © MATT CROCKETT FOR DEWYNTERS

“City of Angels” does not offer already traditional tactics of modern theatre like blind casting or modernisation of any kind. And allow me to say it looks quite refreshing. Guys and Dolls look exactly like guys and dolls, with glamorous 1940s hair and outfits to die for. But behold! “Nothing’s black and white when a dame is involved” – the creators of the musical kindly warn us.

The musical comedy was premiered in 1989 on Broadway and is an homage to great detective stories and the divas of 1940s Hollywood. Think Humphrey Bogart, Rita Hayworth or Black Dahlia. The story is based on a book by Larry Gelbart whose screenplay for “Tootsie” shines bright in his resume. The music is written by late maestro Cy Coleman, composer and jazz pianist, whose evergreens appeared in “The Man in the High Castle”, “The Marvellous Mrs Maisel” and many many more.

HADLEY FRASER AS STINE © MATT CROCKETT FOR DEWYNTERS

And if all this is not enough to make you run to the box office, here is the list of the stars singing, dancing, betraying and fighting for you on the stage: a seductive Vanessa Williams (Wilhelmina Slater from “Ugly Betty”), golden voices of Rosalie Craig and Rebecca Trehearn, extraordinary Jonathan Slinger, multitalented Hadley Fraser as crafty writer Stine, and Theo James (a very much swooned over Four in “Divergent”) as Stone’s literary alter ego detective Stone.

I would like to mention two more main “characters” of the show – the lighting and videos. The way Howard Harris and Nina Dunn made them live and perform together with the actors is extraordinary.

When the show finishes with the “I am nothing without you” tune, it becomes clear that seeing it only once is not enough. So I won’t be surprised to see the same faces next time I am there.