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‘Annihilation’ and the Adaptive Legacy of H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space”

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A meteor crashes to Earth, emits strange colors in the perimeter around the crash, and begins altering the flora and fauna in bizarre ways that defy Earthbound science. In H.P. Lovecraft’s popular short story “The Colour Out of Space”, the strange alien meteorite affects a farm near the coast with “colour,” indescribable globules of color that taints and alters everything around the crash site. In Alex Garland’s Annihilation, the meteor crash near the coast unleashes the “Shimmer,” an iridescent dome of color that has irrevocably changed everything inside it. For Lena (Natalie Portman) and the expedition sent to investigate the Shimmer, their journey is nothing like the horrific decay of the Gardner farm in Lovecraft’s story, but they reach very similar conclusions. And that looming fear of the unknown feels very much in line tonally, as well. Annihilation isn’t based on Lovecraft’s works at all, and yet it feels like the greatest adaptation among his most popular stories; the story that’s garnered more adaptations than any other in Lovecraft’s catalog.

Among Lovecraft’s personal favorites of his work, “The Colour Out of Space” was the first in which he blended sci-fi with horror. Lovecraft’s brand of horror emphasizes the unknowable, usually in the form of indescribable monstrosities, and a whole lot of unanswered questions that leave a lingering feeling of dread. It allows a lot of room for interpretation, and yet Lovecraft’s stories have proven very difficult to adapt. But “The Colour Out of Space” puts its focus on the Gardner family, through the eyes of their neighbor Ammi Pierce, who recounts the colour’s changes of the Gardners to a land surveyor from the city. The story may have referred to the glowing colors of the meteorite as “almost impossible to describe,” but it gets precise with the description of the squirrels, rabbits, woodchuck, cabbages, asters, and other common ecology that are morphed and warped into something horrific. The horror comes from twisting the familiar into something grotesquely unknown, making it hit much closer to home than a lot of his works. It’s the relatability and familiarity that makes “The Colour Out of Space” work, and ripe for consistent adaptations.

The first was 1965’s Die, Monster, Die! Directed by Daniel Haller, this adaptation is very loosely based on Lovecraft’s story and adheres closer to the Edgar Allan Poe film series by Roger Corman that kicked off the decade. Haller served as production designer for many of the Corman produced Poe films, which no doubt played a major factor in his look and feel for Die, Monster, Die! Boris Karloff stars as Nahum Witley, a wheelchair-bound scientist that discovers a radioactive meteorite and keeps it in his basement, using it to mutate the plants and animals in his greenhouse. Save for some of the names, the core effect of the meteorite, and certain character fates, this is furthest removed from Lovecraft’s story.

It took almost twenty years for another cinematic attempt at “The Colour Out of Space” to come along, this time an Italian-American production directed by actor David Keith (An Officer and a Gentleman, Firestarter) and co-produced by Lucio Fulci. Set in the present, The Curse is a much more faithful take on the story, though it does devolve into an insane creature feature by the third act. Starring a young Wil Wheaton and his sister Amy Wheaton as the only two Crane family members not infected by the meteorite that’s crash-landed on their Tennessee farm, they watch in horror as the crops, then livestock, and finally, their family members mutate. It’s a showcase of gory, gooey, ‘80s effects, of which Fulci also contributed, and made enough of an impact to earn an unrelated sequel.

In 2008, Colour from the Dark marked another loose adaptation of the story. Starring Debbie Rochon, this story also followed a farm and its inhabitants as they descend into chaos after a strange color appears from their well. But there’s no meteor crash or cosmic horror in this adaptation, just a supernatural based entity and themes of religious horror.

The most faithful take yet came two years later, with German film The Colour Out of Space, or Die Farbe. The plot has a man traveling to Germany in search of his missing father, and uncovering the secrets of the land where he was stationed after World War II. Save for that setting update, it plays out almost exactly like Lovecraft’s story. With its low budget, director Haun Vu makes an interesting style choice- The Colour Out of Space is in black and white. Though puzzling at first, aside from hiding some of the rougher CG effects, it makes the appearance of the “colour” pop.

These films are just the straightforward feature length adaptations, and doesn’t even touch upon the impact “The Colour Out of Space” played on meteorite-based horror. The Blob, “The Lonesome Death of Jody Verrill” segment of Creepshow, Slither, and many more draw influences from Lovecraft’s story in some capacity. Almost always in more rural settings, all see the alien horror consume and spread across the land, be it creature, radiation, or blight. Annihilation subverts that by turning the alien destruction into a thing of beauty, but the core similarities remain the same. It’s the most well-executed take on Lovecraft’s story yet, but the possibilities are limitless and leave the door wide open for more perspectives on Lovecraft’s cosmic “colour.”

Horror journalist, RT Top Critic, and Critics Choice Association member. Has appeared on PBS series' Monstrum, served on the SXSW Midnighter shorts jury, and moderated horror panels for WonderCon, SeriesFest, and Popcorn Frights Film Fest.

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‘The Sixth Nik’ Review: Pulitzer Winner Daniel Kraus’s Horror Sci-fi Epic

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The Sixth Nik Review Daniel Kraus

Daniel Kraus is the 2026 recipient of the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction thanks to the epic highwire act of his World War I fantasy/horror novel Angel Down. This means that Kraus, an author beloved by genre fans for years, now has more eyes on his work than ever before, particularly from readers who might not typically pick up a novel that veers so heavily into hard genre spaces. 

This is why I’m thrilled that, by chance, Kraus’ first post-Pulitzer novel is The Sixth Nik, a spacefaring adventure full of horrifying imagination and brimming over with imagination. Like all of his books, it’s an elegantly written, narratively complex piece full of memorable characters given depth and shade, but as with Angel Down, it’s also an effort by Kraus to stretch his wings, work out some prose muscles that he doesn’t use as much in his straight-ahead horror work. If you’re coming to Kraus for the second time after reading Angel Down, you’re going to get something completely different and yet distinctly Kraus-ian, a space odyssey that’ll make your brain tingle even as your stomach is doing cartwheels. 

In the future, when humanity has colonized Mars, Europa, and other nearby habitable worlds to varying degrees, Earth is the site of a secluded sect that has made Greenland their home. This sect is responsible for nurturing the Niffakoq, a kind of messianic child warrior whose legacy is passed down in a way similar to the Dalai Lama. The Niffakoq are trained from birth for their “Chore,” a task they must complete that will radically improve some aspect of life in the cosmos, and given brain implants known as “Niks” to enhance their innate empathic abilities. They also, due to the danger of their chores, rarely live beyond the age of 11. 

Nine-year-old Sisilla is the latest of these Niffakoq, and she’s just been given her Chore, involving a faraway colonial outpost on a remote planet that’s rarely in touch with the rest of humanity anymore. To achieve her Chore, Sisilla boards The Sickness, an AI-designed, organic ship that looks like a flying tumor, and meets her crew, including everyone from a bodyguard known only as “Murder 005” to a bodacious engineer who revels in changing her appearance through futuristic procedures to a drug-addicted, reconstructed ship’s medic who offers her a chance to try peyote. 

Sisilla is not here to make friends. She’s here to do her Chore, fulfill her purpose in the universe, and pass on to make room for the next Niffakoq. But life on The Sickness determines to surprise her, from an entire room that seems to be made of placenta to a glitching robot that seems to know something of her past. Worst of all, though, it seems that something or someone on board is out to harm the whole crew, and the Chore Sisilla’s spent her whole life preparing for is wrapped around a terrible, paradigm-shifting secret that will make her rethink everything about her life, her purpose, and her place among the stars. 

This is a lot of groundwork to lay for one story, in typical epic science fiction fashion, and it’s only scratching the surface of what The Sixth Nik has to offer, from ship’s quarters hidden behind curtains of impossibly long human hair to an encounter with worms that left even my strong stomach churning a bit. To pull off something this grand, this multi-tonal and big, Kraus has to lay everything out elegantly, using Sisilla as the viewpoint character and narrator while keeping her in the dark about each key revelation until exactly the right time. It’s not the kind of book I associate with Kraus and his imagination, but he rises to the challenge with a novel that offers something surprising on each new page, a kind of prose sensory overload that almost tips off into being overstuffed. But not quite. 

More than the worldbuilding and vibrant cast of characters, though, what makes The Sixth Nik stand out is Kraus’s layered, often cognitively dissonant view of humanity’s future. Technological advances render some troubles obsolete, only to create entirely new problems. Humans morph and shift themselves in so many ways that they sometimes seem to be walking Ships of Theseus. Building ships from organic matter seems more efficient and elegant, yet it fills each voyage with a parade of grotesqueries.

It is a solar system filled with wonders and horrors in equal measure, and it says something deeply relatable and rewarding about the world we’re in now, this mesh of terrors and triumphs, breakthroughs and brokenness. Kraus managed to capture our own fractured view of the present and catapult it several centuries ahead without losing any of his sci-fi bombast or character-driven sense of wonder. That’s a hard trick to pull off, but it makes The Sixth Nik a hell of a read, and a great new primer for the vast imagination of Daniel Kraus. 

The Sixth Nik is available in bookstores now.

4 out of 5 skulls

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