Editorials
Celebrating 100 Years of the Cthulhu Mythos!
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.
Auteur Filmmaking is a term that gets thrown around a lot these days in reference to big name directors like Quentin Tarantino and even Wes Anderson, but the truth is that film is a collective medium, and no one person can be responsible for every single aspect of a particular production. However, the smaller a film’s budget, the bigger the individual impact of every creative decision behind it – and the easier it becomes to identify a genuine auteur.
This isn’t necessarily a judgement of value, as blockbuster filmmaking comes with its own challenges and a good movie remains a miracle regardless of how big the crew is, but I’ve always been more interested in soulful b-movies produced by handfuls of passionate artists than blockbusters backed by creative armies.
That’s why I love exploring low-budget franchises that never left the hands of their original creators, as you really get to know the artists involved with these flicks and can accompany their evolution over a period of time. With that in mind, I’d like to invite readers to join me in this multi-part series as we look into a vampire saga helmed by one of the most fascinating auteurs of the 1990s. Naturally, I’m referring to Ted Nicolaou’s criminally underrated Subspecies!
The Birth of an Unlikely Horror Franchise
A proud graduate of the University of Texas’ Film program, Nicolaou got his start in the industry as a sound technician working on Tobe Hooper’s original Texas Chain Saw Massacre. From there, the filmmaker would go on to work for notorious indie producer Charles Band, the founder of both Empire Pictures and Full Moon Productions. According to Nicolaou, Band would usually contact him with an offer to direct a feature after more prominent filmmakers, such as the late, great Stuart Gordon, had already refused, meaning that his projects tended to have lower budgets and more inexperienced crew members.
The plans for Subspecies began almost immediately after the fall of Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu, with screenwriter David Pabian turning in an initial draft of the film after a Romanian producer contacted Band and explained that Romanian tax incentives could cover the cost of film production there so long as Full Moon took care of the post-production process. Since Stuart Gordon was unwilling to travel to Romania, Ted Nicolaou ended up taking over the picture.
However, while the financial incentives meant that this Romanian-American co-production could look and feel much more expensive than it really was, with Nicolaou scouting for locations in advance and selecting real castle ruins to be featured in the movie, the director was soon faced with an incredibly difficult shooting process. In interviews, Nicolaou would later describe the experience as something of a nightmare, with language barriers and the generalized distrust of capitalist outsiders sabotaging many of the team’s plans for the film.
In fact, the script, which had already been altered by Band, ultimately had portions of it rewritten by both Jack Canson and Nicolaou himself in an attempt to adapt the story to their unique limitations.
Radu Is One of Horror’s Greatest Underrated Villains
In the finished film, which was released directly to video in 1991, we follow a pair of American anthropology students, Michelle (Laura Mae Tate) and Lillian (Michelle McBride), as they reunite with their Romanian colleague Mara (Irina Movila) in her native land. The group intends to study the folklore surrounding the secluded town of Prejmer, but their research is cut short by the return of Radu Vladislas (Anders Hove) – the evil son of a vampire king (Angus Scrimm) who had previously established a truce with the region’s human residents. It’s now up to Radu’s human-loving half-brother Stefan (Michael Watson) to protect the girls from a fate worse than death as the power-hungry vampire seeks to control a magical artifact known as the Bloodstone.
Right off the bat, you may have noticed that the film’s premise sounds decidedly old-fashioned when compared to other vampire movies from around the same time. While the 1990s saw the rise of cool-looking bloodsuckers with badass elements borrowed from Westerns, as well as the sexy aristocrats of Anne Rice’s stories, Subspecies has a lot more in common with Nosferatu and the Hammer Horror series than any of its contemporaries.
This is both a blessing and a curse, as the film falls victim to overly familiar genre tropes while also standing out as a rare example of a ’90s vampire flick that isn’t afraid to flex its muscles as a Creature Feature. In fact, I’d argue that the presence of age-old clichés is a small price to pay when confronted with one of the most compelling vampire antagonists in all of cinema.
Named after Vlad the Impaler’s real-life brother, Anders Hove’s Radu is such a fascinating character and the main reason why Subspecies is still worth watching 35 years later. From his animalistic mannerisms to the joy he feels in simply existing as a chaotic creature of the night, and that’s not even mentioning the iconic makeup that almost certainly inspired the undead from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Radu is a hypnotic presence harkening back to a time when audiences didn’t mind purely evil villains that couldn’t be redeemed through tragic backstories or sex appeal.
Gothic Atmosphere on an Indie Budget
Of course, the film’s Romanian setting and authentic art direction do a lot of the heavy lifting whenever Radu isn’t around. From the masked festivals of the village to the visually interesting selection of local extras, Subspecies’ multicultural elements help it to stand out when compared to similar flicks from the ’90s.
That being said, Nicolaou’s unique eye for special effects and exciting action sequences – as well as Vlad Paunescu’s excellent cinematography – make the movie a delight for fans of expressionist cinema and old-timey gothic horror. While the crew is obviously dealing with limited resources, many of the flick’s blemishes (such as the odd stop-motion demons that serve Radu) end up feeling more like charming idiosyncrasies than actual flaws.
I’d argue that the only real issue here is pacing, as there are long stretches of film where the protagonists are simply bumbling around without realizing what’s really going on around them. Thankfully, the gorgeous visuals and surprisingly effective soundtrack usually make up for this. Besides, how can you dislike a movie where shotgun shells are loaded with rosary beads and our lead vampires duke it out in a dramatic swordfight that would feel out of place during the golden age of Hollywood?
Your overall enjoyment of Subspecies will mostly depend on whether or not you find low-budget corner-cutting and janky practical effects charming rather than distracting, but I know I’ll keep coming back to this Full Moon feature again and again in the future.
That being said, while this first movie is worth revisiting by its own merits as the birth of an indie horror icon, I’d like to invite you to join us as we look into the cult sequel Bloodstone: Subspecies II soon.
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