Reviews
“American Horror Stories: Huluween Event” Review – A Surprise Halloween Highlight
Season three of ‘American Horror Stories’ isn’t afraid to push some uncomfortable buttons, delivering some of its creepiest stories ever.
It can be increasingly easy to write off American Horror Stories, especially when a middling season of American Horror Story proper is currently airing. American Horror Stories began with a rocky start that was too indebted to the franchise’s past. However, it’s gradually become an underrated destination for heightened, campy tales of terror that aren’t bogged down by the plotting and structural issues that so-often hurt American Horror Story’s seasonal narratives. Not only is American Horror Stories’ third season a consistent batch of terrifying tales, but it also contains some of its best work.
“Bestie” is one of American Horror Stories’ strongest episodes and exactly the type of tale that this series should be telling. It’s an incredibly uncomfortable experience, from start to finish, that works as well as it does because of its raw and vulnerable characters. These are real characters with genuine depth that feel like the antithesis of the caricatures who often dominate American Horror Story. Series newcomer, Joe Baken, makes an excellent first impression with a script about loneliness and the dangers of toxic relationships, even if they’re virtual. The story doesn’t succumb to the typical pitfalls and even when it does make use of unnecessary tricks, like an in media res introduction, they’re benign touches that don’t drag down the episode. Any misgivings in “Bestie” can quickly be overlooked with the arresting, dreadful atmosphere that’s achieved through its extended duration.
“Bestie” paints itself in a bleak world where characters monologue on their respective tragedies that can be a lot to take in and makes it feel as if these characters are destined to fail. Jessica Barden, Seth Gabel, and Allius Barnes all excel with their respective material here so that “Bestie” truly becomes an unsettling experience. In most American Horror Stories episodes, a protagonist’s death is expected and sometimes even encouraged, but the final act of “Bestie” leaves a bitter taste in one’s mouth even if it’s an effective twist that stays true to the episode’s toxic themes. Max Winkler directs the hell out of this episode that’s as emotionally grueling as it is visually arresting.
American Horror Stories’ pendulum swings to the opposite side of the horror spectrum with “Daphne.” Franchise mainstays, Brad Falchuk and Manny Coto, write an episode about advanced rogue A.I. that’s ultimately still just a story about connection, much like in “Bestie.” “Daphne” is the weakest of season three’s four episodes, but it’s still a completely serviceable installment of campy, modern horror that’s far from “bad.” “Daphne” becomes a bit of a fumble. There’s a lot to like here between Reid Scott’s starring role and the brilliant casting decision to pull Gwyneth Paltrow off Ryan Murphy’s bench to voice an algorithm-driven AI rather than a living, breathing human. However, “Daphne” also is very much structured in the shadow of COVID-19, which repeatedly gets addressed and undercut, while a new virus looms. This narrative component becomes relevant to the story, but it never feels necessary. It’s more of a glaring, preachy touch that muddles some of “Daphne’s” grander messages.
After Black Mirror’s existence it’s become increasingly difficult to tackle any advanced A.I. horror or sci-fi story unless you’re ready to top its lofty heights. American Horror Stories hardly tops Black Mirror in this department, but it goes in enough of a different direction. “Daphne” does achieve a certain Tales From the Crypt campiness to it all that works in its favor and helps set it apart from a more dour Black Mirror episode.
There are shades of Her as Reid Scott’s Will attempts to wrap his head around the idea of a loving relationship with a vaccine-questioning A.I. Daphne repeatedly argues why artificial intelligence and humanity aren’t that different and what is love if not just an algorithm? This is all meant to be taken in jest, but it’s quite fitting that an episode where A.I.’s merits are argued arrives at a time where actors, writers, and even the public have never been more against the prevalence of this invasive concept. “Daphne” is much more predictable than “Bestie” and its big final act twist falls flat and feels silly in comparison.
American Horror Stories episodes can sometimes rely on a twist to carry home its message. However, there are also episodes like Joe Baken and Alexis Martin Woodall’s “Tapeworm” that work because they deliver on exactly what’s been promised. “Tapeworm” begins as a fairly surface level deconstruction of the modeling industry’s punishing nature and unrealistic body expectations, not to mention the impossible, unhealthy lengths that people are willing to go to achieve this dream. The story in “Tapeworm” may be played out, but it remains effective and successfully banks on compelling characters who the audience actually wants to see survive. Laura Kariuki gives a truly captivating performance as Vivian Finch and she’ll hopefully show up again as a lead in future Ryan Murphy productions.
All of this becomes heightened by the fact that the episode’s heroine, Vivian, is incredibly fit and only “too fat” by the destructive standards of a toxic industry. Vivian’s metaphorical inner monster, jealousy, gets replaced by a tangible creature that turns her into her worst self. “Tapeworm” isn’t subtle with its jealousy, body dysmorphia, and tapeworm parallels, but they still give this story a sturdier foundation that’s more than just some excuse for squirmy body horror. There’s a message here, underneath all of the gross imagery. It’s another episode that trades in some very uncomfortable imagery, although Vivian uncontrollably engorging on food is even harder to watch than the intestinal body horrors that lie inside of her. “Tapeworm” is such an effective slow burn exercise in horror that builds to a gruesome, satisfying reveal during the episode’s tail end. It’s one of the most horrifying visuals that the series has ever conjured and is enough to justify this entry. For an episode that’s titled “Tapeworm,” it sure does not disappoint.
“Organ,” the final episode in this season’s “Huluween Event,” keeps the body horror and social commentary going. Written by Manny Coto and directed by Petra Collins, “Organ” explores some good old-fashioned organ trade fun, albeit with a unique twist that turns this episode into more of a pitch black satire against the ultra-wealthy one-percent and their lavish luxuries and habits. Raúl Castillo leads the episode as Toby, a real man’s man who laments the “male castration” agenda in a woke society. Much like the broader story elements from the pandemic-fueled “Daphne,” this material feels like it’s a season too late, even if these issues are still relevant.
American Horror Stories concocts an engaging mystery over just what’s going on with Toby beyond the general organ theft. At only 38 minutes, “Organ” is the season’s shortest episode and it benefits from not overstaying its welcome through another unnecessary ten minutes. “Organ” is not without its more gratuitous moments, like a bloody, gore-filled dream sequence, but it still zips through its story before it culminates in a massive finale. “Organ” definitely embraces the more humorous side of horror and isn’t afraid to lean into laughter over slaughter. The commentary in “Organ” connects and the episode makes its point. It may not be a wholly fresh idea and it’s very Clive Barker in nature, but American Horror Stories presents it in a way that still has bite.
American Horror Story may not always be worth the time commitment, but anyone who’s fallen off the series and still itching for that vintage Ryan Murphy vibe owes it to themselves to check out the new season of American Horror Stories. It’s a season that knows how to have fun and covers a lot of territory in just four episodes, three of which dabble in body horror variations. American Horror Stories is Ryan Murphy’s horror universe at its best, strongest, and tightest. It’s a horror binge-watch that’s guaranteed to improve any Halloween party this year.
All three seasons of ‘American Horror Stories’ are available to stream on Hulu.
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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