Connect with us

Editorials

Celebrating 100 Years of the Cthulhu Mythos!

Photo Credit: Erik von Wodtke's "Apollo" @ Amazon.com

Published

on

Howard Phillips Lovecraft has posthumously become a pop culture celebrity over the years, for better or worse. The influence of his writing has spread far beyond literature, invading movies, comic-books, video games and even tabletop RPGs. Nowadays, it’s hard to pinpoint any specific piece of media that doesn’t carry at least a pinch of Lovecraftian concepts. While the master of cosmic horror has authored countless chilling tales, he’s most famous for the creation of the infamous Cthulhu Mythos, a literary universe connecting some of his most terrifying work. Now, in 2017, the Mythos is celebrating a whopping one hundred years, and it’s about time that we appreciate that fact.

Back in 1917, Lovecraft had just begun his career as an author, and penned the first Cthulhu Mythos story, Dagon, inspired by a nightmare (which is something of a recurring theme with his best stories). While it probably wasn’t intended to be the start of a terrifying universe of interconnected tales, Dagon sets up a lot of what the Mythos would eventually become. The story of a man driven insane after witnessing an eldritch abomination rise out of the sea to imply mankind’s impending doom contains all of the classic Mythos tropes, and Dagon himself would become a recurring figure in later tales.

From there, the world was soon treated to further tales of Elder Gods and forgotten horrors, though it was only in 1928 that The Call of Cthulhu, Lovecraft’s most famous and influential tale, would see the light of day. The story expanded upon the established mythology (even briefly mentioning the ill-fated narrator of Dagon), and introduced the world to everyone’s favorite octopus-faced Old One, the darkly dreaming Cthulhu.

By his untimely death in 1937, H.P. Lovecraft had amassed quite the pantheon of unfathomable beings that were here long before mankind, and would undoubtedly still be around once we’re gone. Stories like The Shadow Over Innsmouth and At The Mountains Of Madness perfected Lovecraft’s iconic formula for cosmic horror, and are still referenced in modern horror to this day (though everyone is still bitter about Guillermo Del Toro’s failed adaptation of the latter tale).

While the eccentric author never shied away from grotesque monstrosities in his work (hell, he certainly created some of the scariest creatures ever described), what set Lovecraft apart from other horror writers of his time were the disturbing philosophies underlying most of his tales. His belief in an indifferent and uncaring universe resulted in complex stories that avoided the usual trappings of good versus evil and even tapped into relatively modern concepts like existential dread. For example, the Great Old Ones wouldn’t necessarily make it their business to destroy humanity, we’d just be too small and insignificant to survive their inevitable return to this world. There lies the seed of cosmic horror that has frightened so many readers over the last hundred years.

The recurring themes of insanity, suicide and suspicion over humanity’s place as the dominant species of the planet have resonated with many other artists over the years. That’s why it’s no surprise that most people now know Lovecraft from works that reference him, rather than from his original stories. Even before his death, authors like Robert E. Howard (who was a dear friend of the troubled writer) incorporated elements from the Cthulhu Mythos in their own stories, which is why some argue that the Conan the Barbarian tales take place in the same universe.

Thulsa Doom was obviously one of the Serpent Men of Valusia, right?

August Derleth, another one of Howard’s literary friends, went to great lengths to keep the Mythos alive after the author’s passing, going so far as to add his own spin on cosmic horror. It was only after his founding of the Arkham House of publishing that Lovecraft became a household name, as, despite limited critical acclaim, the author had previously never been able to support himself purely through writing. Thanks to Derleth, many other authors and artists gained access to Howard’s tales, which ultimately resulted in the Lovecraftian influence on nearly all facets of modern popular culture.

From Batman’s infamous Arkham Asylum to the terrifying films of John Carpenter and Stuart Gordon, it’s hard to imagine a world without Lovecraft. Could geniuses like Clive Barker or Stephen King even exist without taking lessons from the master of tentacled terror? Even bands like Metallica have devised musical homages to the Mythos’ eldritch abominations. Howard himself almost certainly couldn’t have predicted the impact his imagination would have on media as a whole when he came up with iconic monsters and objects like shoggoths or the Necronomicon.

Nevertheless, it’s important to note that, as a human being, H.P. Lovecraft was an incredibly complicated and controversial figure. It’s clear that he held several racist and xenophobic beliefs, and you couldn’t quite label him as a mentally balanced individual either. Many of these unfortunate ideals bled into his stories, and it’s easy to identify his (sadly all too-contemporary) anxieties surrounding immigration and the “invasion” of foreigners that might eventually replace the American population. However, there is evidence to suggest that, by the end of his life, the author had grown more accepting of diversity and at the very least tolerated the melting pot that the United States had become at the time.

Regardless of his personal flaws, Lovecraft has also been criticized for his overreliance on convoluted wording and repetitive formulas. Some critics even argue that once you’ve read one Lovecraft story, you’ve read them all. These are valid points, to an extent, but these flaws might also be considered some of Howard’s defining attributes. While it’s understandable that some people might be put off by these techniques, complaining about them would be like arguing that slasher movies are too bloody, or that Kubrick’s direction is too meticulous.

Whether or you love him or hate him, there’s no denying Lovecraft’s influence on culture as a whole. Hell, the fact that there are still legions of readers worldwide swearing that Lovecraft’s writings were secretly non-fiction (despite his numerous attempts at explaining otherwise) is a testament to the author’s status as one of the most influential artists of the 20th century. With that in mind, why not re-watch, re-read or even re-play some of our favorite pieces of Cthulhu Mythos media in honor of this most terrifying anniversary? After all, the only side-effect is impending insanity, so what’s the worst that could happen?

Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.

Born Brazilian, raised Canadian, Luiz is a writer and Film student that spends most of his time watching movies and subsequently complaining about them.

Editorials

‘Arachnid’ – Revisiting the 2001 Spider Horror Movie Featuring Massive Practical Effects

Published

on

arachnid

A new breed of creature-features was unleashed in the 1990s and continued well into the next decade. Shaking off the ecological messaging of the past, these monsters existed for the sake of pure mayhem. Just to name a few: Tremors, The Relic, Anaconda, Godzilla, Deep Rising and Lake Placid all showcased this trend of irreverent creature chaos. Reptiles and other scaly beasts proved to be a popular source of inspiration for these films, but for that extra crawly experience, bugs were the best and quickest route. Spiders, in particular, led some of the worst infestations on screen in the early 2000s. And on the underbelly of this creeping new wave — specifically the direct-to-video sector — hangs an overlooked offering of spider horror: Arachnid.

In 2000, Brian Yuzna and Julio Fernández launched the Spanish production company Fantastic Factory. The Filmax banner’s objective was to create modestly budgeted genre films for international distribution. And while they achieved their goal — a total of nine English-language films were produced and shipped all across the globe — Fantastic Factory ultimately closed up shop after only five years. Arachnid, directed by Jack Sholder (Alone in the Dark, A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge, The Hidden) and based on a script by Mark Sevi, was the second project from the short-lived genre house. Yuzna was drawn to the concept largely because of its universal appeal; a monster was marketable in any region, regardless of cultural preferences or restrictions. There was also the fact that spiders give everyone a case of the heebie-jeebies.

By having extraterrestrial forces be the cause of the spiders’ mutism and immensity as well as other urgent problems within the story, Arachnid incidentally pays respect to Hollywood’s golden age of schlock filmmaking. The opening sequence indeed shows a stealth plane’s pilot (Jesús Cabrero) trailing a UFO and its translucent passenger to an island in the South Pacific, but the alien business is kept to a minimum going forward. There is no time to process this seismic revelation of life beyond Earth before moving on to the film’s central plot. 

arachnid

Pictured: Alex Reid, Chris Potter and Neus Asensi’s characters get trapped in the spider’s web in Arachnid.

Several months since the E.T. was last sighted — and after being snuffed out by one of its own accidental creations — a medical team from Guam heads to Celebes (better known as Sulawesi nowadays), in search of whatever is behind a new illness. The doctors (played by José Sancho and Neus Asensi) already suspected a spider bite, although they failed to consider the biter could be the size of a tank. With The Descent’s Alex Reid as the snarky pilot of this doomed expedition, one who has ulterior motives for accepting the job, the film’s core characters go off in search of a spider and, hopefully, a cure.

The title makes it seem as if there is only the one arachnid in the story, but once Chris Potter and Reid’s characters plus their team step foot on the island, they encounter other altered arthropods. Yuzna felt Sevi’s script needed more creatures along the way, especially before the spider showed up in full view. The bug horror commences as one gunsman succumbs to a burrowing breed of crab-sized ticks, and random characters fend off a horrific centipede with reptilian qualities. These are just the appetizers before the greatest arachnid of them all arrives. The late Ravil Isyanov, here playing a zealous but sympathetic arachnologist, becomes a human Lunchable for the spider’s eggs. And one of the doctors gets a face full of corrosive spider spew. So, there is no shortage of grisly predation in the film, with a few bits of the monsters’ handiwork possessing a haunting quality to them.

Shot quickly and cheaply, Arachnid is fast-food horror. It’s convenient and designed for immediate consumption, and will likely not linger on the palate. Usually there is not a lot worth remembering with these slapdash genre productions, however, this is one case of spider horror where the extra effort made a difference. Apart from the egregious use of digital imagery in the outset, Jack Sholder’s film primarily employs practical effects. And these are not rubber spiders dangling from strings or being flung at the actors, either. Fantastic Factory aimed much higher by securing DDTSFX (Pan’s Labyrinth, Hellboy II: The Golden Army) and creature designer and makeup artist Steve Johnson (Species, Blade II).

arachnid

Pictured: One of the spider’s web-covered victims in Arachnid.

Arachnid, while far from flawless, somewhat redeems itself by having chosen practical effects and animatronics over CGI, which had become the new normal in these kinds of films. And this class of creature-feature was definitely not getting the sort of advanced VFX found in the likes of Eight Legged Freaks. Steve Johnson’s spider was not the easiest prop to work with, and it lacks the movement and versatility of a digital depiction. However, there is no beating that sense of weight and occupation of space that makes a tangible monster more intimidating. Viewers will have trouble recalling the human characters long after watching Arachnid, yet the humongous headliner remains the stuff of nightmares.

Over the years, the director has spoken critically of the film. He originally held off on agreeing to the offer to direct in hopes that another project, a Steven Seagal picture, would finally manifest. No such luck, and Sholder accepted Arachnid only on account of his needing the work. He said of the film: “I thought I could […] make it halfway decent, but I discovered there wasn’t a whole lot I could do.” Nevertheless, Sholder’s experience as a director of not exactly high-brow yet still rather entertaining horror is evident in what he has since called a “dud.” While there is no denying the reality and outcome of Arachnid, even the most mediocre films have their strokes of brilliance, small as they may be.

Arachnid

Pictured: The poster for Arachnid.

Continue Reading