Saturday 26 December 2015

Review: "Star Wars, Episode VII - The Force Awakens"


ABRAMS, J.J., “Star Wars, Episode VII - The Force Awakens”, Lucasfilm/Disney Films Inc., 2015.


NB: I’m going to try and keep this as neutral as possible but, inevitably, some references to the events of the film are going to be mentioned. I will try not to de-bag any cats, but let me just say “SPOILER ALERT” before going in, regardless.

This might not be the venue for this particular film but, along with me, keen-eyed Mythos fans will have spotted the Cthulhoid horror that leaps off the screen in Act 2. Yes, Servitors of the Outer Gods, the Idiot Pipers swarming around the Daemon Sultan Azathoth, make their debut in this film. You saw it here first folks! For me, this just underscores the fact that whatever HPL and his spiritual descendants were tapping into, its power is still with us, influencing the creative efforts of others today. Either that, or J.J. Abrams is a Mythos fan from way back.

The creatures in question were the ones that were being smuggled aboard the space station which captures our two heroes, Rey and Finn, as they escape the clutches of the First Order. These terrors are obscenely plastic blobs with hideous mouths and many trailing tentacles. However the thing that really defines them is how they move: it’s the Servitor “tuck and roll” as detailed in Sandy Petersen’s Field Guide to Cthulhu Monsters. Look it up – you’ll see it’s true. If you are planning a scenario where these nightmares are coming into play, you could do worse than watch this sequence by way of research.

As to the rest of the movie, well, what can be said that hasn’t probably already been said elsewhere? This is a breath of fresh air: everything about it is new and interesting, cunningly wrought and deftly handled. The mess that Lucas recently unleashed has been neatly swept under the rug and someone with a firm grasp on the Craft has stepped in to take charge. It’s a grand moment; a new day has dawned.

Before getting on, let’s make some definitions. I want to break down the extant movies in the franchise in the following way (it’s a personal framework, but feel free to make it your own): the first three films (Episodes IV, V and VI) I refer to as the “First Films”; Episodes I-III, I call the “Bad Films”; these new films starting with Episode VII, I call (naturally enough) the “New Films”. I suppose I could just call them by their Episode numbers and be done, but this puts them more neatly into my personal mental framework.

One thing that Abrams does, and I’m sure it’s been commented upon previously, is confuse the concepts of ‘reference’ and ‘re-make’. His “Star Trek” re-boot, when all was said and done, was not an homage to previous material, but simply a re-make of “The Wrath of Khan”. With a new cast and a shiny new look it has to be said, but basically the same old, same old. In “The Force Awakens” he replays the events of “A New Hope” as an outline for this new, bigger, better show. Droids smuggling holographic clues; space-based weapons of mass destruction; a desperate raid by small, one-man fighters to fend off planetary destruction – it’s all back. Nothing new here in that regard. What makes it better, is that Abrams has enormous technical skill in bringing characters to life and in making the viewer feel for them. It’s all in the writing and the direction; the special effects are just a bonus. This is what Lucas has always – always – consistently misunderstood.

As an example, in this new film we see the new incarnation of the Darth Vader archetype, struggling with his role in the universe. In just a handful of scenes, we see the seamless transition from troubled novice Jedi to full-blown Sith Lord – rejection of the Light and the embracing of the Dark – as a full, satisfying arc, something that Lucas couldn’t manage across three entire movies (aka. the “Bad Films”). And, as a bonus, not a petulant, Hayden Christensen whine to be heard anywhere.

Lucas doesn’t understand bad guys. He sets them up and chews them down like corn chips. He doesn’t see their potential for salvation or their usefulness in carrying forward the narrative. This is why he chopped down Darth Maul before we even got a chance to discover anything about him; and it’s why he clumsily retro-fitted Bobba Fett back into the First Film re-releases when the fans wanted more. Darth Vader was just an obstacle to Lucas, and I’m guessing he was as surprised as anybody when the audience reaction was to learn more about him and his origins.

I was 12 or so when I first saw “Star Wars” and, although it lit my head on fire and got my geek-juices flowing, it also bothered me, as it has ever since. My first point of contention was why the “big walking carpet” was called “Chewbacca”? Given that the tale is set “a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away” is it likely that tobacco grows there, that it is chewed, and that it is called ‘tobacco’? So why this moniker? As well, given that we see enough visual displays and consoles throughout the films to know that the Roman Alphabet is alien to our heroes, why are there robots called “R2-D2”,“C3PO” and “BB8” and spaceships called “X-wings” and “Y-wings”? Even in this newest film, when Poe Dameron looks through his binoculars at the start, there are alien letters combined with Arabic numerals in the readout, so where is consistency in all of this? Lastly, and most recently, I discovered that the French name for an Algerian prison camp in North Africa, which was used as a penal colony from the 20s to the 50s, was “Tatouane”, so this is obviously from where Lucas got the name “Tatooine” for the desert planet while he was filming there. “Star Wars” is such a clumsily-written, bolted-on, strapped-together mish-mash of wayward stuff, it’s a miracle that it’s lasted as long as it has. And that’s not even to mention Kurosawa’s “Hidden Fortress”...

The other thing that Lucas wouldn’t recognise if it bit him on the arse is romance. Irvin Kershner showed him how it could be done and won the franchise an Oscar for “The Empire Strikes Back”, still the best of all the previous films, but Lucas continued to flail around trying to pin the concept down without actually getting it. You can marry Princess Amidala and Anakin Skywalker on the shores of Lake Como in Italy but a romantic view is all you get. It was like watching a puppet show with all the warmth that wood and strings can provide. (Compare Sam Mendes’s use of the very same scenery in “Casino Royale” and you’ll see what I mean.) Abrams, on the other hand, is capable of giving an emotional depth to the characters we see on the screen – their hopes and expectations, their troubles and despairs – and with nothing more than small moments – a touch, a worried look, a raised eyebrow. I’m guessing all those episodes of “Lost” and “Fringe” have paid off and that Lucas is back to being the learner while J.J. Abrams is now the Master.

In my reviews of Peter Jackson’s “The Hobbit” (shudder!), I railed against all the sloppy references that were being passed off as ‘foreshadowing’, thus losing for the narrative its power in its own right. Abrams plays around a lot with this here in “The Force Awakens” too, but it’s on not-so-grand or shambolic a scale. Of course, it wouldn’t be “Star Wars” if someone didn’t say, at some point, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this”, so we can all smile and move on at that. There are other hark-back moments that skate damn close to being cheesy, but Abrams nevertheless manages to pull it off. You have been warned: try doing a little homework before you see this flick.

Friends and I used to have a drinking game for “Star Wars” which had some fairly complex rules. Each viewer picked a character to follow (in teams, if there were sufficient numbers present). Those who were tracking Luke Skywalker took a drink each time he whinged about something (“But I wanted to go to Tarshi Head to get those power converters!”); those following the Droids took a swig each time C3PO complained about something, or foresaw doom approaching (“We’re doomed”); those backing the Empire took a drink each time the baddies made a hubris-filled statement about their capabilities (“I think you overestimate them Lord Vader!”). Everyone drank when someone got a bad feeling about something. The other rule was that you listened to what R2D2 was saying – everyone tried to translate the cranky, curmudgeonly, obscenity-laden comment those whistles and blats were coding for and the best one earned you a drink. Few people made it through “A New Hope” without getting legless...

Delightfully for me, R2D2 is still the “Moravian swearing-droid” (non Triple-J listeners won’t get that reference), and my mind flooded with wicked translations through this film too (“Hands off you shiny, tin-plated gimp!”). As the credits rolled, I knew that the franchise has 'a new hope' in Abrams and that good things will come down the line.

May the Force (minus the crappy midichlorians) be with us all once again!

Four Tentacled Horrors.

PS: Just read in the Guardian that George Lucas - previously happy with Abrams' involvement - has now panned the film and has equated the selling of Lucasfilm to Disney (for over 4 BILLION dollars, thank-you very much) with "selling his children to white slavers"; this, two days after ISIS released its 15-point legal outline on how it thinks slaves should be treated, according to its own special view of the Koran. Seriously? Can we all just stand up and tell 'George Lucas the Hutt' to go flush himself? What a turd... 


Friday 25 December 2015

Review: "Penny Dreadful" - Season 2


LOGAN, John, Creator: James Hawes, Brian Kirk, Damon Thomas, Kari Skagland, Dirs.; “Penny Dreadful – Season Two”, Showtime Networks Inc./Sky, 2015.


My concerns with the first season of this show were mainly to do with gratuity; not to do with the violence and gore –there was certainly a lot of that – but mainly to do with nudity and sex. With the character of Dorian Gray swinging his way through the proceedings, it seemed that everyone was going to get their knickers off at one point or another, for no really well-defined reason, and that turned out to be the case. My hesitation therefore at picking up this next instalment, was that it was going to be another panoply of sexual tableaux – like “Black Sails” without the disturbing mirkins.

To my surprise (and great relief!), the sex has been toned right down this year and, amazingly, when it does appear, it almost always has a point. Almost. Obviously, the production staff has been listening to its critics. Dorian and Victor Frankenstein have been worked slightly backwards in the narrative, rather than being first-string characters as they were in the first season: this means that their input is used more judiciously and sparingly, and the focus is firmly on Vanessa Ives, Sir Malcolm Murray and Ethan Chandler, where it needs to be. In essence, the writing has become tempered: all the characters are still there from the first go around, but they have been woven more intelligently into a tapestry, rather than being thrust into an open slather.


The narrative opens with questions about Vanessa’s evident possession by a demonic force, revealed as “Amunet” in the previous instalment; Ethan is forced to face up to his rampage at the Mariner’s Inn after discovering that there is a survivor of the massacre; Sir Malcolm’s attempts to reconcile with his wife, Gladys, after Mina’s death at his hands are chillingly rebuffed; and Victor is forced by his Monster to resurrect the corpse of Brona Croft as his new “bride”. Into this stewing quagmire leap three hairless, scarred and black-eyed naked women, who attack Vanessa and Ethan whilst en route to their headquarters at Grandage House, all the while spouting a bizarre admixture of dead languages, which Vanessa realises she can understand. Apparently, in the wake of the vampires, a new player has hit town and now wants to capture Vanessa for dubious ends.

With many flashbacks and side excursions, we discover that these hideous creatures are witches, led by Miss Evelyn Poole (“Madame Kali” from the first series) who wish to claim Vanessa as an offering to their master Lucifer, a Hell-penned spirit once named Amun-ra and brother to Amunet. The key to Amun-ra’s release onto Earth is Amunet, and, once this happens, Armageddon is in the offing.

Like the insectoid vampires of the first season, the witches are an original take on the topic. The scars they bear are “Devil’s marks” showing their devotion to Lucifer and they shape-change spookily, turning from desirable ladies to hideous, night-coming creatures in a heartbeat. They use this power to skulk chameleon-like in plain sight, blending in to wallpapers and woodwork with equal ease. In later seasons of “Supernatural” Dean Winchester deplores witches for their fascination with bodily fluids and portions, and these witches do not disappoint on that score: they spend an inordinate amount of time paddling in entrails and tearing hair.


The frosty Evelyn Poole handles her coven of three with a whip hand, although one of them – Hecate – is kicking against this control the whole while. Bathory-like, Evelyn takes bloodbaths and utters incantations to ensure her eternal – although nonetheless, slowly-fading – youth and beauty, and she creates fetishes in her castle’s basement – voodoo dolls of those whom she wishes to fold into her power, amongst them Sir Malcolm and Vanessa. Unlike the dispassionate and aloof vampire leaders of the previous season, Evelyn is a thoroughly frightening and engaging villain whose devious presence is palpable throughout the show.


Another revival from the first season is Ferdinand Lyle, a position-holder at the British Museum and dabbler in the dark arts. Spectacularly fey, he is essential for the slow revelation of the cosmic games encircling the Grandage House group and he becomes a pawn of Evelyn’s quite early on, allowing her to spy on her foes. However, he undergoes a change of heart and begins to play the double-agent, appalled by the stakes and fretfully unearthing his Jewish roots to find comfort in his existential dread. This character was a very bright note in the first season and I thought that maybe more of him would be too much; happily, the writers have found many facets to his personality, which have made him a continuing delight.

Not so Dorian Gray. This character is so one-dimensional that his presence is inevitably boring and places a halt on the proceedings each time he appears. His role in this series is to facilitate a general meeting of the Grandage House heroes with the resurrected Brona Croft. This he does and it works well. However, the introduction of cross-dressing Angelique does little more than give Dorian another sexual partner to display. There is some mild and brief discussion of Victorian prurience and some interesting historical material concerning the introduction of table-tennis to England, but little else. When Angelique discovers Dorian’s secret, he quickly despatches her by means of poison, but apart from this petulant little display, not much new light is shed on the character overall.

Brona, on the other hand, resurrected as “Lily Frankenstein”, Victor’s ‘cousin’, begins an arc that starts innocently but which turns horribly disturbing. With the Monster (going by the name of “John Clare”) lurking in the background, Victor develops unhealthy feelings for his female creation which she reciprocates, despite being told that she is affianced to Mr. Clare. Meanwhile, the Monster finds work at a waxworks run by the greasy and grubbily money-obsessed Putney family and finds friendship with their blind young daughter. As well, he encounters Vanessa while she’s working at a cholera clinic and finds in her a kindred spirit: despite all of his blathering-on about how the world rejects him for his ugliness, John Clare’s worldview is continually turned on its head – that is until the Putney’s plans for him come to fruition. Brona, in the meantime, discovers her superiority to normal human beings and, with Dorian in one pocket and the Monster in the other, declares open war on humanity, determined to take what she wants from the world and damn all who deny her.


However, these are mainly sub-plots to the main course of the story, which embroils Vanessa and Ethan – doggedly pursued by Inspector Rusk of Scotland Yard – in the derailing of the Apocalypse to come. With Evelyn Poole murdering his estranged wife the better to seduce him, she ensnares Sir Malcolm in a net of witchcraft and captures him within her castle of horrors; Vanessa, having taken certain diabolical steps which have irrevocably damned her soul, goes to rescue him, as does Ethan and Sembene – Sir Malcolm’s African batman – despite the fact that it’s Ethan’s ‘time of the month’ and not good for him to be out of doors. Stumbling in their wake are Victor and Ferdinand, who, despite being well-armed by Ethan, discover themselves to be horribly up to their necks in it.

As in the first season, the performances from all involved are top-notch and, given the far- better-paced scripting, well-nuanced. Frankenstein was fairly wooden in Season 1; here, he has much more to work with and gets his teeth in. A huge benefit to the show is the presence of powerful female roles to offset the male characters: Evelyn Poole is a great villain and Eva Green is fantastic as Vanessa Ives (and fortunately, not as edgy as last year). As before, the scenery, sets and costuming are all first-rate and some of the set pieces – such as the rain of blood at Dorian’s ball – are truly spectacular and strongly-imagined. There are truly visionary forces at work behind this show.

The conclusion to this season is exciting and suitably dramatic with enough loose ends to ensure (hopefully!) a third season. It turns out that “Penny Dreadful” is more than a pale imitation of Alan Moore’s “League of Extraordinary Gentlemen” and more, indeed, than just the best opening credit sequence on TV. Suck it and see...

4 Tentacled Horrors.


Tuesday 8 December 2015

The Red Lanterns


One of the more notorious secret societies in China during the pre-Republican Era was the White Lotus Society, which played a shadowy role in supporting the “Boxers” – The Fists of Righteous Harmony – whose goals in driving out the foreigners from China aligned with their own ideals. The Siege of Peking saw a cataclysmic end to the influence of the Boxers, but tacit support of their cause remained a thorn in the Foreign Legations’ sides right up until 1923.

China’s secret societies have always been a fluid and nebulous phenomenon. In most instances, a particular society arises in opposition to the dynasty that currently occupies the throne and aims to restore the former incumbents. The White Lotus Society vehemently opposed Manchu rule of China (regarding them as foreigners, along with the Japanese and Europeans) and sought to restore the Ming Dynasty to the Dragon Throne, despite the fact that the Ming were – objectively - despotically cruel and corrupt. To this end, the Society lent their support to various other groups whose aims paralleled their own, the Taipings in the 1860s and notably the Boxers, but also another group based in Tientsin called the Red Lanterns.

The Red Lanterns were an all-female offshoot of the Righteous Fists of Harmony, who appeared as a support organisation formed to enable the Boxers greater opportunities for victory. The two groups had very similar rites and ceremonies, but the ‘Lanterns came to be seen as a more supernatural contingent, almost a society of witches.

Given the rigidity of a woman’s place in Chinese society, along with the regimentation which European Victorian society placed upon its women, the main power of the Red Lanterns was its flouting of convention. The women within its ranks, defied the Manchu rule by cutting their hair and refusing to bind their feet (not that Manchu women bound their feet, but the Manchu rulers liked to maintain a distinction between “their” women and those of the indigenous Han); the fact that they stood shoulder-to-shoulder with men in battle was in direct contravention to the Confucian edict that women should not be seen outside the family home unaccompanied by male relations, much less touch another man to whom they were unrelated whilst outside of the household. The Red Lanterns’ contravention of accepted norms filled their opponents – European, Japanese or otherwise – with a sense of dread and fear. If a woman was able to go this far in the name of a cause, who knew just how far they would go?

In this tactic, it’s possible to see traces of the Boxers’ main psychological advantage: they too, acted wildly in opposition of what was expected and, in doing so, startled their opponents into making errors on the battlefield. The T’ai-p’ing T’ao, the main form of Boxer magic, also utilised this contravention of normality to surprise and dupe their enemies. Weapons used against them seemed useless; their weapons seemed especially effective; their dead didn’t seem to stay that way. In fact the Chinese secret societies, in the face of the foreign powers’ technological advantages, turned to virtually the only edge that they could use – a psychological one.

The Red Lanterns were created by the White Lotus Society as an adjunct to the Righteous Fists of Harmony. The movement crystallised around a young widowed prostitute named Lin Hei’er, whose husband, Li Youquan, had been imprisoned and killed by the British for protesting against the opium trade. A White Lotus member and Boxer leader, Zhang Decheng, took her under his wing and initiated her into the Boxer tradition, re-naming her “Yellow Lotus” and establishing her as the leader of the newly-formed Red Lanterns. Their role was to be a secret guerrilla organisation to spread panic and to assist the main Boxer troops behind the lines, fighting the enemy from the shadows.

The Red Lanterns spied on enemy troop movements, intercepted messages and destroyed telegraph lines. They became infamous for setting fires to enemy equipment and outposts along with other acts of sabotage. The main body of the Red Lantern brigade fought alongside the Boxers, fighting and dying with the men on the battlefield. Yellow Lotus undertook to train any woman who came to her with the intention of fighting for the cause: only the rich, women with bound “lotus feet”, were turned away. Widows and old women formed the Black and the Blue Lantern brigades, who focused their efforts on sabotage and misdirection while the Sha Guo Zhao or “Cooking Pan Lanterns”, scoured the countryside scrounging food and equipment to aid the Boxers.

Yellow Lotus operated not only as teacher for the Red Lanterns, but also as judge and jury. Those guilty of dissension, or of breaking the traditions of the Boxer oaths, were dragged before her for sentencing and punishment. Occasionally, the accused was able to purchase their freedom with hefty amounts of cash, but this was fairly rare. Yellow Lotus became a tactical advisor and confidante to many magistrates and local governors who sympathised with the Boxer cause.

In 1900, after the Battle of Tientsin against the British, the foreign press declared that Yellow Lotus had been wounded and captured by British soldiers during the fight. It was reported that she had been beheaded after a swift court session in the battle’s aftermath. Other rumours pervaded, however: some said that Yellow Lotus had disguised herself as a fisherman and had escaped by sea, leaving a decoy to stand in her stead. Whether this rumour had any truth about it or not, the Japanese police forces in China didn’t officially cease their search for Lin Hei’er, aka Yellow Lotus, until 1923.

The rituals of the Red Lanterns, derived as they were from the Boxer traditions, were very similar to those of the parent organisation and may be of some interest. In the investiture ceremony, the initiate was made to kneel before the Boxer leader and swore a solemn oath, dedicating their life to the throwing off of foreign tyranny, to solidarity with other society members, and to a strict vow of secrecy. They also vowed to take the heavens as their father, the earth as their mother, the stars as their brothers and the moon as their sister.

The new initiate swore allegiance using the following words: “If I, your pupil, do not respect your law, or if I divulge this Way of Immortals, may my flesh be reduced to congealed blood. I will never go against this teaching. If I should go against this teaching may a thunderbolt strike me dead.” The sect leader would respond in this fashion: “I am a teacher; I do not teach an heretical sect. If I should transmit any heretical teaching, or if I should use tricks to get people’s money for myself, then may a thunderbolt strike me dead.” After this, the novice would drain a bowl of chicken’s blood.

Once the vow had been sworn, the initiate then began 49 days of intensive martial arts training. The style of the fighting skill depended upon a number of factors including the local area and the style which predominated there, or the style preferred by the Boxer leader in charge. During this training, the initiate was marked with a burn, usually to the back of the head, with a hot brand made from wormwood leaves. 

There are other rituals which took place during this training and they were designed to ramp up the initiate’s zealotry while simultaneously deadening their sense of pain. Many of these rituals involved drugging by means of the highly-poisonous compound, mercury sulphate. Hypnotism and the induction of trance states allowed the initiates to ignore the ravages of the battlefield, shrugging-off what they perceived as “mystically enlightened states of consciousness” and continuing to fight in the face of certain death. It’s likely that many Boxers killed in battle had no idea that they were even there.

Boxers were all taught “True Words”, an eight-character chant which was supposed to purify their soul and make them powerful fighters for the cause. The True Words were chanted to the “Three Easts” thrice each day, twenty-seven times facing east in the morning, fifty-four times facing south at noon, and eighty-one times facing west at dusk. The society placed great stock in the notion of spiritual purity and devotees were told that, if they weren’t sufficiently pure, the Boxers’ magic would not protect them. Once this became common knowledge, the foreign powers began to paint pictures of naked women on their cannons to ensure that the Boxers’ spells were ineffective against them.

In the final analysis, the Red Lanterns were a colourful and psychologically-challenging adjunct to the main Boxer contingents, not unlike the bizarre Ten Nai, or “Tiger Men”, who campaigned both with the Righteous Fists and the Imperials, and whose prancing and cavorting on the front lines threw the foreign troops into consternation. To this day the legend of Yellow Lotus and the all-female troops which she commanded is a staple mythology of the city of Tientsin wherein she and the Red Lanterns have attained the status of folk heroes.

*****

Additional Spells from the T’ai p’ing T’ao

Like most other spells from this set, there is a magical version of each spell and a mundane, non-mystical form, which depends more upon trickery and legerdemain than anything supernatural. Most spells require that the caster recite the standard “true words” and burn offerings to the dead – “joss paper”, “gold paper”, or “hell money”, a spiritual aid to the ancestors in the afterlife. Pear wood is often used for writing charms, since the wood of the pear tree is considered to be spiritually pure. Many of the mundane spells require that the recipient of the “magic” be thrown into a confused state or stupor: this is often achieved using fasting regimens, frenetic dancing or chanting, and often the application of some decoction, often based on alcohol or opium. Not uncommonly, these trances were induced using mercury sulphate – either breathed in as “incense” or imbibed as a potion. Derived from native cinnabar, this substance is lethally poisonous in sufficient doses.

When discovered in a Chinese Mythos tome, the Keeper should decide if the spells are the bogus rituals, the real magic, or a combination of the two, as suits their purpose and their story.

“Fire of Heaven”

Magical Version:

This spell is a modified version of the spell Summon Fire Vampire. The caster creates a magical cloth, investing it with 1 point of their POW. The cloth should be either yellow or red, and dyed, painted or embroidered with mystical sigils and “true words”. Into one corner of the cloth, a small number of coins should be sewn. The caster then awaits an evening when the star Fomalhaut is above the horizon and casts the Summoning spell as per usual; however, when the Fire Vampire appears, the caster brandishes the cloth and the ‘Vampire becomes trapped, inert, within it, able to be safely stored away. At a moment of the caster’s choosing, they are then able to flick open the cloth (using the weight of the coins to facilitate this action) and release the Fire Vampire to cause havoc. These cloths are especially useful for causing arson, or attacking enemies. Once freed, the Fire Vampire disappears back to whence it came; the cloth may then be used in a repetition of the casting.

If the coins used in creating the cloth are ones minted during the reign of the Kiangsi Emperor (of the Ming Dynasty) then the Summoning spell has a base 20% effectiveness.

Mundane Version:

The cloths in this version of the spell are not as elaborate. Usually, they are knotted heavily in one corner, or have stones or other weights tied into them; they are then dipped into some kind of accelerant liquid (petrol, or oil, say) and then ignited and tossed onto roofs, or through open windows. The Black Lantern brigade members are especially fond of this magic.

“Flying Dagger”

Magical Version:

By means of this spell, the caster enacts a long-range attack upon a chosen foe, attacking with surprise from an almost unlimited range. The spell is cast when the caster writes “true words” upon a piece of paper, using a pen made from pear wood, whilst burning “gold paper” and chanting, investing the paper charm with half their Magic Points (round up). The caster must then smuggle the charm into the clothing of their target, secreting it upon their person so as not to be detected. Ideal places for hiding the charm are inside hat bands, watch fobs, coat linings, tobacco pouches, snuff boxes, or similar: regardless, the charm must be on the person of the target when the spell is put into effect.

At the desired moment, the caster picks up a dagger and strikes the empty air with it, rolling their normal attack dice with a thrown, or wielded, knife; bonuses for Martial Arts skills, or similar, are added to this roll, if applicable. Wherever the target is – assuming that they are in the same dimension as the caster – they are suddenly attacked by a mysteriously-appearing dagger and, if the caster’s attack roll was successful, they take normally-rolled damage (including Damage Bonus, if applicable). They may also be susceptible to any poison which the blade may have upon it. If the attack roll was unsuccessful, then the blade simply materialises near the intended victim and clatters uselessly off the surroundings, startling the target (and causing concern for their security) but inflicting no physical harm. Meanwhile the caster loses 1d6 points of SAN.

For attack purposes, this dagger is able to Impale – even if the target is normally unaffected by such attacks - and is considered to be a magical weapon for this one strike.

Mundane Version:

This form of the spell is the complete opposite of the magical version. Where the magical version attempts to set up an ambush attack, the mundane version seeks to make the target feel that they have narrowly escaped such an attack. The caster needs to let the target know that they have the ability to cause a long-range attack upon their enemy, and to subtly leak the information of the process to them. They then should try to secret the charm – in this instance a non-magical scrawl upon a piece of paper - upon the target’s person as outlined above: even if the intended target fails to find the charm, they should be made to feel as though they have been effectively targeted for a magical attack.

After this, the caster then simply needs to find a way to sneak in to the target’s place of habitation and hide a dagger on the premises in such a way as to surprise the victim by its discovery. If possible, the blade can be hidden in such a way that the victim hurts themselves by lying down on it, or by walking or sitting on it; or it can just be left in plain sight. The target must be made to feel that they have narrowly escaped powers outside of their control and, if the revelation is especially effectively staged, they might be liable for a SAN check...

“Soul Travelling”

Magical Version:

In this iteration of the spell, the caster sits facing into the sunset and stares into the light of the setting sun until “their eyes glow with fire” all the while chanting the protective “true words”. At the point when the sun disappears over the horizon, the soul of the caster separates from their body (along with 10 of their Magic Points and 1d4 SAN) and is free to fly invisibly through the air and to spy upon the world around them. Red Lantern troops used this spell effectively to spy upon the Foreign Concessions and to discover enemy troop movements and supply lines. The soul is instantly returned to the host body at the next breaking of dawn; meanwhile, the inert body is vulnerable to any attacks or accidents which may happen to it and therefore the setting of a loyal guard is strongly suggested...

Mundane Version:

This version of the spell requires that the Red Lantern leader effectively co-ordinates the resources represented by the Blue Lantern brigades, those fifth column infiltrators who often work for the Foreign forces as servants and drudges, picking up all the snippets of information that fall their way. The caster may cobble together some mumbo-jumbo to impress their confederates with their powers of insight, or they may simply suggest that they have access to supernatural sources of information...

“Flying Fan”


Magical Version:

This spell requires the procurement of a well-made fan, either one well-made of costly materials or a sturdy War Fan. The caster chants “true words” over it whilst burning “gold paper” and costly incense for the duration. At the end of the ceremony 2 points of the caster’s POW are invested permanently into the fan and the caster loses 1d6 points of SAN.

This item is especially effective if the wielder is versed in Martial Arts. Whenever they need to make a Dodge roll while carrying the fan, they are automatically carried to a point just outside of the zone of danger, appearing to have executed a prodigious, floating leap. The same effect appears if the wielder is a Martial Artist and chooses to try and Parry an incoming attack – obviously, in this case, the correct rolls must be made in order for this effect to be successful.

The fan only works if it is carried by the caster and retains all of its original Hit Points. Once it loses these, it is no longer of any use. Repairing the fan between engagements will not prolong its life of usefulness.

Mundane Version:

This form of the spell requires a fair degree of initial set-up. The fan here is of an especially tough construction and may not even be usable as a fan at all. In fact, it is the handle of a secretive system of ropes, zip-lines and pulleys which the caster has established at a point where combat is likely to occur. Using these lines, the caster can engage with any enemies and appears to be flying or making huge leaps during the fight. Of course, innate Martial Arts ability goes a long way towards adding to the effectiveness of this illusion...

“Floating Soul”


Magical Version:

This spell requires the use of a copper bowl and water obtained from a high mountain source, either from a spring or melted from a high-altitude snowcap. This liquid must be used within a day of it being gathered otherwise the spell will be ineffective. The caster creates an altar made with three pieces of wood, not connected to each other by metal fasteners (such as nails, or wire), bonding agents (such as glue or varnish), ropes, sinew or string, or wooden pieces that have been worked by metal (wooden pins or dowels). The altar must be placed in an open area where wind can move over it and sunshine and rain can fall upon it. The copper bowl is placed upon this stand and is filled with the gathered water.

To cast the spell, the caster kneels before the altar and chants the “true words” while burning incense and “joss paper”. An offering of rice or orange peel is often made to whichever deity of ancestor the caster feels to be the most pertinent. At the end of the ceremony, they lose at least 12 Magic Points (by expending their full amount) and 1d10 points of SAN. Their soul now separates itself from their body and hovers over the copper bowl, appearing as a sort of heat haze to those who make a Spot Hidden roll in the vicinity.

The caster is now immune to any damage which affects their body. Any attack which causes them harm will be restored at rate of 1 Hit Point per minute until they are fully recovered. An attack which disintegrates the corpus completely will negate this effect, as will reduction of the body to zero Hit Points by fire. If the body is pinned or held by the damaging effect – beneath a landslide, for example, or held submerged beneath a body of water – the process of regeneration will be halted until such time as the body is freed, whereupon it will resume once more. The caster is not necessarily unaware of what is happening to them during these restorations and this may precipitate a SAN check.

The effect lasts only as long as the altar with its copper bowl of water remains in situ; if anything happens to upset, spill or dismantle the arrangement, the soul of the caster snaps back instantly to where it belongs and the caster will become immediately aware of what has taken place. This could well happen at a very inconvenient moment...

Mundane Version:

This non-magical version of the spell has the same set-up as the supernatural iteration, with one important difference: this spell is always cast upon someone other than the caster. The target of the spell is made to believe that afterwards, their soul has been separated and that they are immune to any harm. The recipient of the charm is made to chant and fast, creating a light-headed suggestible state; they are given euphoric, or opiate, decoctions to drink and unbalanced by the meaningless rituals. The bowl of water is surreptitiously topped up at some point by a layer of clear oil which is then set alight by means of a deftly-wielded joss stick: the heat haze that this generates is usually enough to convince the target that their soul is now floating on the sacred water...

“The Closed Fire and Sand Curse”


“Disciples in the red dust, obstruct the cannon’s mouths. Let their guns resound together and part the sands on both sides of us.”

Magical Version:

This is another expression of the classic Boxer magic which renders the faithful immune to Foreign weaponry, specifically the ballistic kind. Like all versions of this spell, the physical component is a piece of yellow paper, written over with coloured ink displaying “true words”, which is carried about on the person. Most versions of this spell simply bestow extra points of Armour upon the bearer allowing them to withstand a barrage for longer than normal; this version acts a little differently.

The Curse acts by repelling bullets away from the bearer of the parchment talisman. When fired upon, the bearer rebounds the bullet and the shooter must make a Luck Roll or find that they have shot themselves. If they make this roll, those nearby should then make similar rolls to avoid being hit by the ricochet. In the case of artillery, the cannon’s Malfunction Roll should be rolled with a +40% chance of failure, causing the gun to be destroyed by returning shot.

To cast the spell, the caster utters the “true words” while inscribing the charm with a pen made from pear wood, all the while burning “gold paper” and incense: the last lines of the chant are listed above. The spell requires the permanent loss of 1 point of POW and a number of Magic Points equal to the number of times that the charm will be effective (the sacrifice of POW is made first). The caster suffers a loss of 1d6 points of SAN while the bearer of the charm loses 1d2 points of SAN the first time the charm operates. Obviously, in a heated gun battle, the charm will lose its effectiveness very quickly...

Mundane Version:

As with other mundane versions of this spell, the casting ceremony involves much trance-inducing chanting and dancing and the imbibing of a special “warriors’ potion”. This potion is simply a distraction, often alcohol or a home-brewed narcotic to deaden pain (possibly opium). Once roused to an adrenalized fever-pitch by the dancing and chanting, the recipients of the spell often don’t even notice when they’ve been wounded anyway.

“The Never-Empty Pot”

Magical Version:

This spell requires the use of a sizable cooking vessel made of metal, like a cauldron or large cooking pot. The caster sits before the vessel and chants “true words” all the while feeding “joss paper” into a fire lit beneath the empty pot. When the bottom of the pot begins to glow from the heat, the caster stands and slices the palm of their hand with a knife: once the blood is flowing, they must squeeze a piece of edible fungus in their wounded hand and throw this into the pot. Immediately this is done, the fire must be extinguished and the pot removed from the cooking place. When the bloodied fungus stops sizzling, the pot’s interior can be examined:

For every 3 Magic Points expended by the caster in enacting the spell, 10 kilograms (22lbs) of edible fungus will be discovered growing on the sides of the pot and filling its interior. This can be cut out and prepared in many varied and interesting ways, even eaten raw if needs be. There is a catch: timing is everything with this spell and if the pot is too hot, or not removed quickly enough from the fire, then it will not work. The caster needs to make a Luck Roll to execute the manoeuvre swiftly enough for the spell to work. If the spell fails the caster has suffered 1 Hit Point of damage and possibly ruined a good pot; if it succeeds, they take the damage and lose 1d4 points of SAN. The caster is able to call upon others to help in the ritual and these assistants may add their own Magic Points to the spell; they do not lose Hit or Sanity Points for their involvement, but an averaged Luck Roll of everyone involved is used to determine whether the spell works.

Mundane Version:
 
The Blue Lantern brigades are masters of this spell effect and it has a number of expressions according to how hard the Devil is driving. The women of the Blue Lanterns are well-versed in scrounging: infiltrating as they do the Foreign Concessions, they are adept at stealing excess foodstuffs, spiriting away edibles that the wasteful Foreigners disregard and eking out small supplies of rations. The best Blue Lantern cadres are those whose averaged Bargain and Accounting skills are very high. In this way, they can make it seem that the food supplies available to the Boxer forces are apparently limitless.

This effect is not simply a remarkable sense of frugality, although that’s the biggest part of it. Given the devotion that these women have for the cause, there are other procedures and skills which they can bring to bear in order to feed and clothe the Righteous Fists of Heaven. Opium is an appetite suppressant and judicious lacing of food and drink with this substance can stop even the hungriest fighters from whining. Ideologically, the Boxers see no problem with using the Foreigner’s “Black Mud” against them in the war to drive them out of China. In certain dire cases, the Blue Lanterns themselves eschew eating for a steady diet of opiates, leaving more food available for the troops. And when things get really desperate, the Blue Lantern ladies know how to render any kind of meat unrecognisable on a dinner table. Any kind.


“Puppet Fighter”

Magical Version:

This spell imparts a Martial Artist’s fighting skill to another combatant, allowing them to fight a single session of combat with skills to which they would not otherwise have access. Under the supervision of the caster, the recipient of the spell effect and the skilled Martial Artist are subjected to a period of fasting and chanting, along with the ingestion of mind-altering drugs (often opium, but alcohol will serve). When both individuals are in a suggestible state, they are made to stand within a circle drawn upon the ground and the Martial Artist is told to practise their skills while the subject is told to follow their movements as closely as possible. The two are beaten severely with bamboo canes if they refuse, or fail to perform adequately; all the while, the caster shouts words outlining the conditions under which the spell will come into effect: these should be simple but specific – “attack so-and-so when they come for your evening report”, “attack the first person you see wearing a particular medal”, etc.

The spell has a base 10% chance of working; for every Magic Point the caster expends upon it, another 10% is added to the chance of success. The spell takes several days to orchestrate and this should be roleplayed as much as is possible. At the end of the casting, the Keeper rolls to see if the spell is effective; the caster has no means of knowing if the spell was cast successfully or not.

If it is, the target of the spell uses the fighting ability of the Martial Artist in a single combat session, the parameters of which are set by the caster’s choosing. The subject will launch the assault and fight to the bitter end to the best of the other victim’s ability. Until they see the end of the fight, they will not recall the time and effort spent casting the spell; ironically, they have no memory of these events even if the spell fails – until the trigger event transpires, whereupon it all comes back in a rush, with a 1/1d6 potential SAN loss sting in the tail.

Mundane Version:

In this form of the spell, the victim is imprisoned and denied food, sleep and exposure to natural light. Once their resistance is sufficiently broken down (accompanied by drugs and other procedures), a rigorous period of brainwashing takes place. The victim and the caster compare POWs on the Resistance Table: if the victim succeeds, the programming continues for another day. POWs can be compared only once each day, so the time invested in this “magic” is fairly intensive. Once the victim’s resistance has been overcome, the suggestion to attack the spell-caster’s target can be implanted into their receptive mind.

Note that, in this version of the spell, the victim fights using only such skills as they already possess, and any equipment that they own, or are supplied with. While executing the attack, they will believe that they have supernatural gifts but this is unlikely to be the case. Once the fight is over and the hypnotic state evaporates, the victim may well be required to undergo a SAN check.

*****

An obvious benefit of the T’ai p’ing T’ao is that they allow the keeper’s dubious NPCs to skitter about doing peculiar things without actually causing any sanity-blasting damage to the characters. Or at least, minimal damage. The mundane versions of the spells are complete scübidüberisms; but, like all such gaming features, they give your players a bit of a break between Mythos encounters.

Review: "The Lobster"


Lanthimos, Yorgos, “The Lobster”, Limp Films, et.al., 2015.


This is horrible.

It’s not strictly horror, although horrific things take place within it. It’s discussed loosely as a dystopian science-fiction piece, but that doesn’t sit right either. It feels more like an Absurdist work, or a magical-realist movie. The only thing that I can say definitively about it is that it is just nasty.

By way of a caveat before getting into the guts of it, it’s a movie in which terrible, appalling things happen to animals and, given my attitude towards such fare, you know I’ll be marking it down as a result. Doing my research post viewing I discovered that the director has a track record for depictions of animal cruelty and I doubt I would have gone to see this film if I’d known ahead of time. I feel kind of queasy now, having contributed anything to this monster’s career. Still, maybe I can now warn people to stay away.

To put this into some kind of perspective – lest you think I’m just being precious – in the opening scene of this film, a woman drives a car through the rain until she arrives at a field, draws out a pistol and guns down a donkey who doesn’t understand anything about what is going on until it’s too late. We are left to ponder this scene and no concrete answers as to why it appears are provided to us, the audience, despite the remainder of the film. In fact, the action and the woman have no relevance to anything that comes afterwards. The only thing that, in retrospect, this scene tells us is that women and animals are going to be harshly dealt with, on the one hand, and negatively portrayed, on the other, in what comes next.

Let me be clear: I am fully aware that, in some countries and cultures in the world, donkeys are eaten by people. However, just as I would be appalled to witness the actual death of a human being screened for my entertainment, I am equally disgusted that anyone would film an animal’s cruel and pointless killing and call it “art”. It isn’t. It’s pornography of a low and sadistic order. This is the leitmotif for the rest of this dubious work.

The story of the film concerns “Dave”, played by Colin Farrell, who enters a hotel to stay. After being intensively grilled and divested of his clothing and personal effects, he is told that he must find a partner within the next 45 days or suffer being turned into an animal. When asked what type of animal he would like to be transformed into, he decides that he would like to become a lobster. Thus, the film’s title.

The rest of the film’s first half follows Dave’s progress: he meets two other men seeking companionship and they observe the women who have arrived for the same purpose. There are events which throw the two groups awkwardly together and we hear a lot about the men and their tactics for passing the 45 days untransformed. The individuals in the Hotel are made to focus on what makes them unique and to look for that in others; unfortunately, they focus on things like lisps, or limps, or a tendency towards sudden nose-bleeds, rather than the qualities of their personalities. One young woman becomes a Shetland pony because no-one else has hair quite as nice as she does. The film is delivered in such a deadpan, Monty Python-esque fashion that I couldn’t make up my mind if these people were simply stupid, or if the director was in earnest.

Of the three men upon whom we’re made to focus, Dave has no overtly defining feature apart from his myopia. He has checked in with his brother who was transformed into a Border Collie during his previous stay but who is restricted to Dave’s room. None of the women present wear glasses or have animal companions so it seems that Dave is at a disadvantage. Of his two buddies, one (Ben Wishaw) has a limp and initially pursues a woman with a similar disadvantage until he works out that she only has a minor sprain. He therefore periodically fakes a bloody nose in order to win the favour of the young woman with this affliction and so fakes his way into passing the Hotel’s regime unscathed. John C. Reilly’s sad-sack character, the one with the lisp, is doomed to fail (he chooses, it is pointed out ironically, to become a parrot).

One way that the Hotel guests can prolong their stay is by participating in the nightly hunts, where, armed with tranquiliser dart guns, they pursue forest-dwelling “Loners” – people un-partnered and therefore barred from society – gaining a day’s reprieve for every sleeping Loner they bring back with them. One of the women – identified as “heartless” – takes inordinate pleasure in these events, brutally bashing and clubbing her tranquilised prey. Dave decides that he can also fake his way into couplehood by feigning a cold sociopathy the equivalent of hers. This he tries to do, until the morning he awakens to find that she has methodically kicked his brother to death in their bathroom: his inability to react unemotionally to this horrible moment sees them fighting together, she to expose his lies to the authorities, he to silence her before she blows the whistle. He eventually succeeds, by throwing her into the Transformation Room where she is turned into ... we are not told what, but it’s implied to be something horrible.

Here, the film loses its way. To avoid being exposed, Dave runs off into the forest and joins the Loners. We start from scratch learning about a new community and the rules which govern them. The leader of the Loners (Léa Seydoux) is petulant and scheming: she denies the Loners any attempts at pairing up, scarring and terrorising them for flirting, or kissing. Nevertheless, Dave encounters a short-sighted woman (Rachel Weisz) who responds affectionately to his presence. They battle uncertainty and jealousy to finally embark upon a relationship under the suspicious gaze of the Leader. Eventually, she discovers them and takes the woman into the City to have her blinded by an ophthalmic surgeon (!). Now that they have nothing more in common – he is still short-sighted, but she is now blind – the assumption is that they will drift apart. Again, I was bewildered: was the director being literal with this stuff? Or was it some kind of bizarre – and simplistic – metaphor?

The lovers decide instead to make a break and head for the sterile City where their status as couple will ensure their safety. They wind up at a diner where they agree that, in order to have something in common, Dave will blind himself with a steak knife so that they can continue on together. He doesn’t do this and abandons her. And that’s it.

This is a poisonous piece of work. The women involved are universally derided and misused, transformed against their will, forced to beg and whine for what they want, depicted as malicious, manipulative and spiteful, and, in the end, cast off as unnecessary. When the men enter the Hotel they are all dressed in dark trousers, white, or blue, button-down shirts, and blue blazers; the women are all dressed in the same provocative halter-neck dress. In other words, the men are all anonymized, while the women are all objectified. One woman begs Dave to couple-up with her, at first offering treats to his dog, then offering him sexual favours which he rebuffs: she threatens, and then succeeds, in throwing herself out of a window in despair. The youngest two women – best school friends – arrive together, then abandon each other in the struggle to “win”, and a bitchy break-up is all that is left of their camaraderie.

(On a side note, when did it become a thing that men desire, above all else, the possibility to sodomize other people? I’ve seen it in a bunch of films lately where women offer anal sex to men in return for advantage. The “Kingsmen” movie – despite its many, many flaws - was distinctly ruined for me in this regard, and this present movie also raised the issue. Frankly I don’t care what people get up to with each other, but this was a step too far. I would suggest that Yorgo Lanthimos simply gets off on women with posh British accents saying “fuck” and “arse” in the same sentence...)

On the other hand, the men all pal around, discussing and employing tactics in a bumptious, nerdy fashion, succeeding to various degrees before having the rug pulled out from underneath them. Amid the - at all times - dead-pan delivery of the film, the men are treated as innocent fools, bumbling their way around, while the women are all calculating and pre-meditated, built along the lines of Disney’s Cruella de Ville. There’s a hatefulness beneath the surface of this piece that undermines any attempt at gentle humour that the director seems to be heading for. In fact, I saw the trailer for this movie before seeing it and that document implied that this was going to be a quirky, off-kilter romantic comedy – there was no hint of the nihilism and venom to come.

I’ve read other reviews of this film in the meantime and many of them use words like “visionary”, “challenging” and “thought-provoking”. Don’t be fooled by the cine-files: this is a poisonous, unreconstructed, anti-feminist, hymn to the patriarchy, wrapped up in as many murdered animals as the director thought he could get away with. The presence of a percentage of the cast of “Spectre” and a handful of Academy Award winners and nominees should not influence your decision to see this; rather, it should make you wonder what on Earth they were thinking.

Avoid at all costs.

Zero Tentacled Horrors.