Review: “The Call of Cthulhu”

 

LEMAN, Andrew (Dir.); screenplay by Sean Branney, “The Call of Cthulhu” (2005), The H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society, Inc., USA

 

Anyone who knows me at all knows that I like this film. I mean, what’s not to like? They said it couldn’t be done, and yet here it is, silent and in glorious black and white. Time and distance have had their moment however, so I thought it would be as well to cast a critical eye over it, now that the fan-boy enthusiasm has waned somewhat.

To begin with, the thing that I most liked about this piece is that it was not simply an attempt to film the un-filmable; it was also – possibly primarily – an attempt to recreate an artefact from an earlier period. In short, it looks as though it was made circa 1925. There are enough lines and dust and spots, lovingly handcrafted onto each frame to make this print look as though it’s been unearthed from some forgotten archive and pressed back into service. Supporting this are the dialogue boards, titles and credits that have been superbly designed and lettered, and which really capture the mood of the silent era of film.

So too, does the music, which is amazing. The dread tones which herald the start of the film really set the mood and from there it doesn’t let up. In supporting the emotional impetus of the imagery, it also doesn’t overly intrude or distract, but forms a perfect synthesis with the visual input.

I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised: The H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society (HPLHS) has made an art-form of recreating documents from the ‘20s and ‘30s, as their font packages and recorded offerings attest. So it’s hardly likely that they’d drop the ball in putting together a package like this. And this is really a perfect vehicle for them to have attempted: HPL’s “Call of Cthulhu” is a tale that springs directly from sifting through a collection of documents, an attempt to correlate all the separate parts of one man’s mind, leading to an ultimate madness.

In tackling what is arguably HPL’s signature work, the HPLHS set themselves a solid challenge and, in rising to that challenge, have achieved marvellous results. Too often, as the offerings of Hollywood repeatedly stand witness, a bloated budget for a movie vehicle leads to laziness and a slipshod result: got a problem? Throw money at it until it goes away. In this instance, a shoestring budget has forced the creators to plumb the limits of their imaginations and creativity in order to get the results that they’re striving for. While I was enthusiastically looking forward to Guillermo del Toro’s take on “At the Mountains of Madness” recently (despite the dubious casting of Tom Cruise – shudder!) I’m kind of glad that the project stalled (on the basis of ratings classifications, which just shows that the studio knew nothing about what they were funding): a big budget – even in the capable, possibly eyeball-equipped, hands of del Toro – might have ruined a masterpiece. It would be interesting to see what the HPLHS could do with it...

However there is a downside to working off the backs of your friends and co-conspirators: sometimes they get to show up in the finished work when really, they – or their work - ought not to have been there at all. There’s a point in the drama where the action shifts to the front door of a guest house called the Fleur-de-Lys: at the entrance is a plaque identifying the building and it looks like someone’s first attempt from pottery class. As a prop (if it is a prop), it fails utterly, whereas, earlier in the film we see a clay tablet that’s completely convincing. I may be wrong about this: according to the extras on the disc, the Fleur-de-Lys building actually exists and the filming was done there on location. It may be that the plaque is real and that this is an instance where reality just doesn’t do art justice. It’s a minor note in an excellent scene from an excellent film, but let me return to my point:

In the casting there are a number of wonderful portrayals; as well, there are a number of duds, and there’s a slight sense of friends being allowed to play around in the sandpit. Some portrayals – Castro (Clarence Henry Hunt), Inspector Legrasse (David Mersault), Johansen (Patrick O’Day) – are superb, especially given that these are non-professionals. Others are somewhat wooden (although, easily overlooked in this arch style of cinema), but I guess you take what you can get. Freed from the palette restrictions that a colour film would have imposed, wardrobe and make-up went to town on the performers and seeing the full-colour footage (again, in the disc extras) is hilarious. However, would it have hurt to have given some of the actors haircuts? There are more than a few hairstyles here that simply do not cut it with the ‘20s aesthetic (and I’m looking mainly at you sailor guys). Obviously, when you’re shooting a film with your buddies on the weekend, you need to keep in mind that you have to show up for work on Monday, so a haircut might be out of the question. But seriously? Hair grows back; art is forever.

(As an exercise in comparison, take a look at Peter Jackson’s recent do-over of “King Kong”: which set of sailor dudes do you think is the more convincing?)

It’s a small moment of oversight in a project that constantly strives for perfection and, on the whole, I admit, it’s a petty instance. Still, as a viewer, I’m prepared to overlook the dodginess of the bridge of the SS. Alert, simply because I can sense the effort that it has taken to create the set. A set is just background and fades into itself; it’s the actors who create the action and draw the eye: an oversight in casting, or of presenting that cast, can be ruinous to the final result.

But these are minor quibbles in the final analysis. This is an amazing exercise that proves what can be done with solid scripting (hallelujah!), inventiveness and the enthusiasm of all involved. If you haven’t seen this movie, you need to in order to call yourself a card-carrying Lovecraft fan. In the interim, their next project – “The Whisperer in Darkness” – has been published and it’s about time I forked out the cash to get myself a copy (after all, I bought the fund-raising T-shirt a few years back!). It feels good to know, in advance, that the film will faithfully serve the source material and will reward my investment.

Four tentacled horrors.