FOLIO
Relatively unknown during his lifetime, outside of a few close correspondents and devoted fans of Weird Tales (the pulp magazine in which most of his stories first appeared), H.P. Lovecraft (1890-1937) has emerged as among the most influential American authors of horror fiction since Edgar Allan Poe, up to Stephen King.
Arkham House Publishers, begun in 1939 by Lovecraft’s disciple August Derleth and still going strong, takes its name from a sinister town in Lovecraft’s fiction, as does Arkham Asylum, the repository of Batman’s crazed villains. The honorary statuette given the winner of the annual World Fantasy Award was (from the organization’s 1975 start through 2015) a bust of Lovecraft.
The reclusive, idiosyncratic author’s influence has flourished in the movies, music, painting, sculpture and, of course, fiction. As with everything else, the countless films derived from Lovecraft lore range from poor to excellent, regardless of studio or independent status. Among the best of the indies are Stuart Gordon’s Re-Animator (’85), From Beyond (’86) and his underappreciated Dagon (2001).
The first two films have already been upgraded to excellent HD formats, and fans will be tickled to know that Dagon has just dropped, having undergone the same. All three prove a big budget, famous stars and a major studio aren’t vital for a good movie.
The same is true for The Call of Cthulhu (’05) and The Whisperer in Darkness (’11), both produced by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society (HPLHS) with budgets of $50,000 and $350,000, respectively. The Society’s delightful website states its goals: “From its beginnings, the HPLHS was about sharing our Lovecraft-inspired games, songs, movies and more with like-minded friends, and creating storytelling experiences in a uniquely immersive and collaborative way.”
And it is.
Set in the 1920s, like most of Lovecraft’s fiction, The Call of Cthulhu (with a truncated 47-minute running time) is a faithful adaptation of the famous writer’s tale. Scripted by Sean Branney and directed by Andrew Leman, the plot weaves three separate shorter narratives literally covering the globe, from Massachusetts and New Orleans to Australia and Norway. Makeup, performances and musical score deliberately assume the look and style of a ’20s silent horror film, not as send-up or parody, but as a loving tribute.
The unnamed protagonist (Matt Foyer) inherits a manuscript and legacy that take him on an odyssey of nightmarish discovery, as he tries to understand the links that tie together the hideous creations of a contemporary sculpture, a fiendish cult of demon worshippers in the Louisiana bayous, and a mysterious island in the South Pacific that may be the gateway to Unspeakable Forces from Beyond. (Shudder, shudder!)
Those familiar with Lovecraft know Cthulhu is the tentacle-faced, gigantic cosmic entity that’s central to the author’s cosmogony, along with the Necronomicon (a fictional volume of forbidden lore ascribed to “Mad Arab” Abdul Alhazred). Thanks to H.P., both names have a hallowed spot in modern horror’s unhallowed annals.
For The Whisperer in Darkness, HPLHS’s Sean Branney and Andrew Leman switched jobs, Branney turning director, while Leman penned a script. More ambitious, the second film (still black-and-white) deliberately mimics a ’30s horror talkie (think Bela Lugosi’s White Zombie, but way better) with an expanded running time of one hour, 43 minutes, in keeping with the original tale.
The central character is Albert Wilmarth (Matt Foyer, in a performance indicative of a manic Jeffrey Combs in various Re-Animator films), a professor at Miskatonic University (another staple of Lovecraft lore) who goes to the wilds of Vermont to investigate claims of mysterious beings from another world, amassing to overwhelm us.
Unlike the first film, the second half of Whisperer takes liberties with the original story but, in this case, to good effect. The earlier story is long on mood and build-up, like much of Lovecraft’s fiction, but rather spare on action. The film version remedies that defect.
Productions by fans for fans, both The Call of Cthulhu and The Whisperer in Darkness are superb examples of imagination trumping finances.
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