Reviews
‘Castlevania: Nocturne’ Review – A Gory, Gorgeous Vampire Revolution Story
Castlevania: Nocturne quickly finds a fast-paced, blood-soaked rhythm in this satisfying sequel to the Netflix animated horror series.
“Warriors in arms. Family in hearts.”
Castlevania: Nocturne becomes another prolonged pursuit between skilled and sullen vampire hunters and the dark creatures that go bump in the night. This basic plot may not be groundbreaking and if anything it leans into the predictable premise of each Castlevania game. That being said, the first scene–an extended cold open that runs for a third of the episode–is really the perfect distillation of why Castlevania: Nocturne is worth watching. A stunning battle between Julia Belmont and Orlox, a 250-year-old vampire, plays out while multiple forms of magic release supernatural spectacles as the two battle to the bitter end. In a single scene, Richter Belmont’s entire purpose gets crystalized and sets him–and the series–off on a strong, confident note. Castlevania: Nocturne taps a rich vein that draws just as much fresh blood as its predecessor.
There’s such kinetic movement to all of the show’s combat and battle choreography where flowing spells, magical creatures, and spinning cameras keep these fights in constant motion and add a dizzying quality to these histrionics. Each fight is truly a visual marvel that combines incredible animation with vicious carnage. The series’ opening shot is the picturesque reflection of fireworks going off in water, which slowly ripples and separates as a boat passes through. It’s so beautiful and effortless as if Castlevania: Nocturne wants to immediately prove to the audience that its animation is immaculate and beyond criticism.
Castlevania: Nocturne gets just as creative with its night creatures, which are demons that are forged from human corpses. These episodes have fun with the limitless nature of what a demon can be. There are countless vampires and generic demons present, but also some inventive designs like multi-armed monsters, dragons, and medusa-like serpents. In fact, there’s a very Guillermo del Toro-esque quality to the series’ night creatures where none of these demons would feel out of place in Pan’s Labyrinth or Hellboy. The Vampire Messiah, in particular, manages to make Dracula look remarkably boring in comparison. Castlevania: Nocturne conjures some truly ghoulish images for its monsters and victims. The series embraces its horror influences just as much as it celebrates heightened action sequences.
Alternatively, there’s also such a sweet, sensitive beating heart to the series that reminds audiences that these are hurt people and not just grandiose action heroes and demon slayers. One of the series’ best sequences doesn’t involve any confrontations with demons and instead is a more muted moment of grief and reflection. Maria buries one of her magical familiars as she mourns the loss of part of herself while Eoudard immortalizes the memory through a melancholy aria (an aria of sorrow, if you will). It’s a beautiful scene about dedication and sacrifice where this group of heroes collectively expose their open wounds to each other. It’d be easy to remove such a moment in favor of more demonic duels, but these emotional scenes are as important as anything else in Castlevania: Nocturne. It’s not just about some war between good and evil, but the human cost of such conflict and how mounting losses can even make the living feel like they’re hollow and dead.
At Castlevania’s core, this is a story about revolution, power, and freedom, albeit one with vampires. Set in Western France on the cusp of the 19th century, crooked Kings, monarchies, and the aristocracy are a constant problem to this subjugated society. However, the Vampire Messiah–Countess Erzsebet Bathory–is also aligned with the old regime and pledges to make vampires masters of their own domains rather than a deadly extension of the aristocracy. This turns both the living and the undead into threats for Richter, Maria, and thier scrappy cabal of warriors as they fight against zealous monsters who strive to block out the moon and trigger eternal twilight so that demons can freely roam the Earth.
Castlevania: Nocturne finds a fun, effortless dynamic between Richter and Maria that’s not dissimilar to the banter that was present between Trevor Belmont and Sypha in the original Castlevania. Their riffing is often just as strong as their fighting. This duo naturally grows into a quartet as two more demon hunters, Annette and Edouard, become allies who are all united through similar trauma. Castlevania: Nocturne also makes sure to develop its vampire villains and their mysterious endgame goal just as well as it does Richter, Maria, and those who strive to end them. Every character, dead or alive, is rich in depth.
“I thought I was supposed to fight evil. I thought that was the whole point,” is the first line of dialogue that’s spoken in Castlevania: Nocturne, but this pledge also quickly becomes the series’ mission statement and guiding mantra across these eight episodes as the line between good and wicked gets increasingly blurred. Castlevania: Nocturne tells a satisfying story, but not necessarily a complete one. These episodes neatly set up what’s destined to be a deeper sophomore season, but Nocturne also feels more substantial than the original Castlevania’s first season, which functioned almost like an extended prologue. Kevin Kolde, Clive Bradley, Sam and Adam Deats, and executive producer Adi Shankar have created something special through this extension of the franchise.
Castlevania: Nocturne digs deeper and accomplishes much more than its predecessor. It doesn’t just feel like a tease, but rather the first act to a much greater war that can finally be properly tackled now that a certain familiar face has shown up. Nocturne goes out on an exceptional cliffhanger that should keep fans pleased until season two. The series is confident enough that it doesn’t need to stoop to such theatrics, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to cast the world in darkness and prepare for the next stage of this unholy war.
Reviews
‘The King Tide’: An Island Town Rots with Moral Decay in Canadian Folk Horror Fable [Review]
The opening scenes of director Christian Sparkes’ The King Tide set an ominous tone: a powerful storm takes down the power lines of a small island town as a pregnant woman loses her child while her dementia-suffering mother sits nearby. In the morning, as the town takes stock of the damage and the power is restored, a surprising discovery is found in an overturned boat in the harbour: a baby girl…with the ability to heal.
Writers Albert Shin and William Woods, working from a story by Kevin Coughlin and Ryan Grassby, treat the story as something of a morality tale mixed with a fable. Following the cold open, the action jumps ahead 10 years at a point when the unnamed island (the film was shot in Newfoundland, Canada) is thriving. The fishing is bountiful, the islanders are self-sufficient and have cut ties with the mainland, and most everyone is happy.
As characters are prone to saying, it’s all thanks to Isla (Alix West Lefler), the miracle baby who has grown up worshipped by the islanders. While Mayor Bobby Bentham (Clayne Crawford) and his wife Grace (Lara Jean Chorostecki) endeavor to raise Isla like any other little girl, the reality is that the island’s entire ecosystem revolves around her miraculous powers. It is only because of Isla that they survive; every aspect of their lives – from medicine to food – relies on her.
Each day the citizens line up for their allotted time with the young girl – be it to stave off breast cancer, like Charlotte (Kathryn Greenwood), or recover from another night of heavy drinking like former doctor, Beau (Aden Young). There’s even a predetermined schedule for when she will go out on the boats and use her power to lure fish into the nets.
One fateful day, Bobby succumbs to peer pressure and alters Isla’s schedule at the last minute to accompany cod fishermen Marlon (Michael Greyeyes) and Dillon (Ryan McDonald). A childish game with fatal consequences is played, but with Isla indisposed, a young boy, who would have otherwise been fine, dies. And while the rest of the community grieves, it is Isla who is completely shaken and, unexpectedly, loses her powers.
Suddenly the entire balance of the island is thrown off. Folks like Grace’s mother, Faye (Frances Fisher), who relied on Isla to keep her dementia at bay, suddenly reckon with mortality, while the food security of the town is called into question. Faye’s late-night “support group” meetings take on an urgent and secretive tone and the townspeople claim ownership of Isla’s time despite Bobby and Beau’s protests that she needs rest to recover from her trauma.
Like the best thrillers, the politics and personalities within the community come into play as morals are compromised and the good of individuals vs the collective is played out in increasingly desperate situations. The King Tide excels because it is interested in exploring the competing motivations of the townspeople, while also resolutely refusing to paint anyone as inherently good or bad. These are desperate people, determined to remain independent and free from outside interference, while protecting their trapped-in-amber way of life.
These developments work because there’s a humanity to the characters and The King Tide wisely relies heavily on its deep bench castoff character actors to drive the conflict. Crawford is the de facto protagonist of the ensemble and he’s also the most straightforward character: Bobby is a good man and a loving father, but he’s no white knight. At several points in the film, his willingness to acquiesce to the demands of the community and retain his power causes events to spiral further out of control.
Even more fascinating are Grace and Faye, two commanding women whose capacity for maternal love is matched – or eclipsed – by their own self-interests. A mid-film discovery about Isla’s power reframes Grace’s priorities, ultimately pitting her against her husband. As a result, Grace is incredibly compelling and frustrating (in a good way) and Chorostecki, who has done great genre work on both Hannibal to Chucky, plays the moral ambiguity exactly right. Grace is a fascinating and flawed human character in a film filled with them.
The same goes for Fisher, who deftly balances Faye’s grandmotherly love for Isla with the needs of the community and, by extension, her own health demands. In the hands of a lesser performer, it would be easy to hate Faye for her actions, but Fisher’s performance perfectly captures the fierce determination and fear that drives the island’s matriarch.
Finally, there’s Aden Young, The King Tide’s secret weapon. The ten-year jump reveals that Beau has undergone the most significant transformation: while everyone else has benefitted from Isla’s powers, her presence has eliminated the need for a doctor. With the clinic effectively shuttered, Beau has become an alcoholic; a shell of his former self with no purpose.
Like Bobby, Beau is the easiest character to root for because of his selfless desire to protect Isla, but Young (renowned for his work with Crawford on Rectify) unlocks the character’s tragic pathos and, in the process, becomes the film’s emotional anchor.
Framing the moral decline of the islanders and anticipating the unexpectedly devastating climax is the natural beauty of Newfoundland. As shot by cinematographer Mike McLaughlin, there’s a steely beauty to the geography, resplendent with rocky cliffs, pounding surf, and gusty bluffs that reinforce the islanders’ isolation.
There’s a fierce pride in their struggle to survive independently, evident in the simple lodgings and the antiquated alarm bell that is rung whenever fishing ships from the mainland stray too close. It’s a chilly, atmospheric calling card for one of the most picturesque provinces in Canada, but it is a perfect complement for the folk horror narrative.
Armed with serene, beautiful cinematography, murky moral developments, and a deep bench of talented character actors, The King Tide is a quiet gem that demands to be seen. It’s one of the year’s best genre films.
The King Tide is in theaters April 26, 2024.
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