The new, final trailer for Star Wars: The Force Awakens currently has Geek Nation enthralled, and few fantasy fans of a certain age range (say, 6 to 80) can think about much else between now and Christmas, but another giant in the genre field has a new film out, just in time for Halloween, that should make those whose tastes tilt into all things horror feel a warm tingle and a pleasant chill. Guillermo del Toro, the Mexican fantasy master, here again has followed a pattern familiar to his devoted followers: One project gets within a hair’s length of life only to wither away, so he quickly pivots and creates something different, new, wholly beholden to his obsessions, and largely satisfying, assuming expectations are calibrated accordingly. His adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s At The Mountains Of Madness seemed all but ready to shoot three years ago, but then the studio support disappeared and the bottom fell out. Del Toro then managed a neat trick, reviving the spirit of another faded dream project (Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein) to fuse with his own original story of gothic mystery, the evocative and lovingly crafted Crimson Peak.
With its R rating and mist-shrouded spirits on full display in the advertising campaign, you can’t help but be surprised to find Crimson Peak is a restrained and often familiar story—especially if you know the many movies that the filmmaker gladly nods to, from Hitchcock’s Rebecca to Wise’s The Haunting to any number of other entries (even the relatively recent Angels and Insects gets a significant shout out or two). The film is at once refreshing and staid, as the patience to settle into a story long on character and short on gore is an almost striking change of pace from most modern horror entries, yet as the yarn unravels you can’t help but be left with the desire for an unexpected twist or a truly shocking scare. Neither of the latter are in evidence here. I won’t lie—you will be exposed to several standard jump scares, although even in that department del Toro seems less interested in yanking the viewer around in their seat unexpectedly and more dedicated to giving them a bloody nostalgia bath.
And there is blood red, crimson more specifically, around ever dark corner of the film, from the delicious oak interiors of high society Buffalo NY to the oozing red clay that Tom Hiddleston’s Thomas Sharpe is quietly desperate to mine from his property in England, the last sliver of hope he has to continue a once-successful family name. We come to meet Sharpe when he solicits the support of wealthy American developer Carter Cushing, whose daughter Edith (Mia Wasikowska) is the hero of the tale. A frustrated writer of gothic ghost stories inspired by her deceased mother’s foreboding spectral visitations, she serves as a plucky and talented stand in for some of del Toro’s favorite writers–an early exchange with a petty social rival is telling, when she compares Edith to “Jane Austen, who died alone.” Edith shoots back, “I’d rather die like Mary Shelley, as a widow.” We also meet Sharpe’s sister Lucille, played with a coolly contained lunacy by Jessica Chastain, whose pitch black period costumes and demeanor leave little to the imagination as to what role she’ll play in the proceedings. Thomas and Edith fall into a forbidden yet clearly telegraphed love, and Edith, heir to a fortune, finds herself across the pond in the dilapidated and almost ridiculously creepy Allerdale Hall. Del Toro saves his best production design for the mansion, with archways lined with knifelike appendages, a ceiling with a rotted hole that doesn’t merit the attention of the maintenance crew due to the atmospherically convenient falling leaves and/or snow in the main hall it provides, and, of course, restless spirits with tales to tell. Edith is quickly sucked into the mysteries and madness of the manse, known as Crimson Peak due to the red clay that seeps into the snow around the place during the winter. Without spoiling the details, things are actually quite as they seem—supernatural, deadly, and dangerous to both the new and longstanding inhabitants of this mad circle. Fans of previous del Toro ghost story success The Devil’s Backbone will find some familiar notes being struck as the finale unfolds with plenty more blood and a now-standard but welcome reversal of the age old “damsel in distress rescued by the handsome hero” trope.
The cast is game, the sets are exquisite and there’s barely a shot to be found in Crimson Peak that won’t entrance the eye. The CG spirits are a solid step above most such things found in the digitized age of horror thanks to del Toro’s deft directorial decisions, either in sound design, visual conception or placement in the frame, but ultimately don’t raise the viewer’s blood pressure above what a strong appreciation for the care that went into bringing them to life on celluloid would merit. Ultimately, that’s the impression we’re left with as the credits roll—a talented filmmaker, beloved to genre fans around the world, putting together a love letter to some of his favorite early films and stories, but never quite transcending the realm of tribute with the innovation on display in earlier films such as the authentically haunting Devil’s Backbone and the periodically transcendent Pan’s Labyrinth. It’s a delight to have Guillermo del Toro swimming in the darker corners of his obsessions yet again, where he clearly feels the most comfortable, but next time out it would be refreshing to see him rely more on his mad imagination than his esteemed influences.
Podcasting Them Softly 