Fury of the Demon (2016) d. Fabien Dulage (France) (60 min)
Antrum: The Deadliest Film Ever Made (2018) d. David Amito / Michael Laicini (Canada) (95 min)
The concept of a “movie that kills” has been explored before, most notably in Ringu (1999) and its remakes/sequels, and also on the small screen with John Carpenter’s 2005 Masters of Horror episode, “Cigarette Burns.” Now, fans can enjoy a diabolical double dip of creepy cursed celluloid from both sides of the Atlantic, and while neither are perfect in execution, both offer enthusiastically macabre mythos designed to arouse imaginations and inspire conversations beyond the closing credits.
I’ll start with Fury of the Demon (aka La Rage du Démon), since not only was it the first released chronologically, but it was the first to come across my radar as well. Jon Kitley (Kitley’s Krypt) dropped me a line one day to tell me of this “French documentary” that he’d recently come across, one that addressed the phenomenon surrounding a bizarre silent film that had been only screened on three occasions and on each of those three, horrible events had occurred for the theaters and their patrons, complete with fires, riots, and death. Reportedly produced at the turn of the 20th century by Victor Sicarius, a protege of cinematic pioneer Georges Méliès whose partnership with his esteemed mentor abruptly ended as a direct result of his dabbling in the dark arts, Demon mysteriously disappeared following its final showing in the U.S. in 1939 and remained “lost” until it was submitted for a film festival screening in 2012.
Thanks to the presence of established filmmakers (Alexandre Aja, Christophe Gans), festival organizers, film critics (including Rue Morgue’s former editor-in-chief Dave Alexander), and Méliès’ great-granddaughter Pauline, writer/director Dulage creates an impressive degree of authenticity as his assembled roster of talking heads detail Demon’s malevolent past as well as their own personal experiences. (Several of them reportedly attended the pre-festival critics’ screening, and their experiences range from hysteria to hallucinations to brutal violence.) All of these accounts are delivered with straight faces with just enough detailed information and conviction that viewers find themselves asking, “Wait, why haven’t I heard of this before?”
Of course, the reason behind the film’s obscurity is that it’s all a fiction, painstakingly created by Dulage as an intriguing curiosity piece for cinephiles. And that is also what sets Demon apart from other “cursed” films: there is not a whiff of sensationalism or attempt to frighten. It’s a purely intellectual exercise, deliberately dry and academic in tone, one that is sly and smart and skillfully produced without overreaching. The effort and intent are deeply appreciated; clearly this was a labor of love by one of our own, and we applaud the charm and wit involved in its creation.
By contrast, the 2018 Canadian effort Antrum (special thanks to David White for putting it on my radar) puts its marker on the opposite end of the board, leaning full-force into the “gonna getcha” ballyhoo, complete with its “The Deadliest Film Ever Made” subtitle. Here we are presented with a recently unearthed “lost” film from 1979, one that has a similar distribution backstory (limited screenings, with resulting madness and mayhem) and even more mysterious origins (no one knows who made it, nor where the unusual markings on the film stock itself came from, nor who has spliced snuff-like footage between the frames). The “archivists” releasing Antrum apparently feel “obliged” to give us all of this information so that we, the viewers, can watch at our own risk. (They even give us an on-screen legal disclaimer absolving them, distributors, and venues of any wrongdoing, followed by a 30-second countdown to allow audiences to leave the cinema if they choose. William Castle would be so proud!!)
Being that it was produced two years after Demon premiered at Montreal’s Fantasia Film Festival, there’s more than a little reason to believe that directing team of Amito (who also scripted) and Laicini were inspired by its mythos, especially since the legend surrounding their invented killer flick nearly mirrors that of its Francophone predecessor. The irony is that the mockumentary aspects of Antrum – while polished in their presentation – are actually its weakest. Once we actually get around to seeing the “lost” film, that’s when the magic really begins.
Following the death of Maxine, the beloved family dog, young Nathan (Rowan Smyth) is plagued by terrible nightmares. Seems that Mom has opined that Maxine will not be going to Heaven due to questionable behavior on Earth, leaving the lad fearing for his canine pal’s immortal soul. Benevolent older sister Oralee (Nicole Tompkins) goes above and beyond, telling Nathan she has sought out the aid of a spiritualist and learned of a ritual that will free Maxine from the depths of Hell to happily chase squirrels in the Great Beyond. The two siblings head out into the woods with shovels and totems in hand, find an appropriate spot, and start digging their way south.
Needless to say, things don’t go as planned. But they also don’t go as expected. Like, at all.
I’m going to hold off from giving any further plot details, since the surprises are best served fresh, but what really got my motor running is the level of authenticity with which the filmmakers have imbued their little passion project. This feels exactly like an independent feature from the 1970s, complete with competent (but far from exemplary) lighting and sound, and performances that straddle the line between awkward and completely naturalistic. There’s also an indefinable quality of dread that drapes itself over the proceedings, one that continues to gather weight like an old comforter left out in the rain. By the end, I was quietly muttering, “No no no no no” to the screen, something that does not happen all that often over here at Chez AC.
That’s not to say that this yarn is spun from unique cloth, to mangle a metaphor. In the same way that Amito and Laicini may have borrowed their cursed film mythos from Fury of the Demon, there are signposts from other efforts (The Blair Witch Project and Resolution among them) on display. That said, these borrowed ingredients are well-employed and even when I recognized them, I found myself smiling at their inclusion as opposed to being put off by it.
It’s here that I feel obliged to offer a disclaimer of my own. Much like watching an old VHS tape pocked with white noise imperfections or the herky-jerky streaming of a film with sketchy Internet, our brains are capable of kicking in an enormous degree of forgiveness/help in order to stay immersed in the narrative. I bring this up because I found myself making this kind of conscious effort to ignore the distracting elements (i.e. the “cursed” symbols and explicit spliced-in “shock footage”) so that I could stay immersed in the world of Antrum. In other words, the add-ons did not enhance my experience, and actually detracted from it. But because I was so invested in seeing where things went, I was able to push them aside, with my experience ultimately being an extremely satisfying, even haunting one.
As the final credits rolled, I found myself wishing that I had stumbled across Antrum on its own, minus the bookending mythos and extra bells and whistles, as I can’t help but imagine it would have been even more effective/enjoyable. Yet, even as I write these words, I understand that the ballyhoo (and the reason it is performing so well on Amazon Prime) is what brought it to my attention in the first place. It’s an interesting dilemma: I feel obliged to judge the ballyhoo – which I find somewhat juvenile and tiresome, smacking of insecure gimmickry – alongside the film-within-a-film, which I find remarkably accomplished, impressively atmospheric, and genuinely unnerving. As such, I can’t give the completed product in toto an unqualified “must-see” rating, but I absolutely give it a qualified recommendation (i.e. the entirety of this review) while fully realizing that some people may not be able to get past the layered-on icing to enjoy the delectable pastry below.
Both Fury of the Demon and Antrum are available now on numerous streaming platforms, the latter courtesy of Uncork’d Entertainment in the U.S. and Jinga Films in other regions. (Antrum is also available on Blu-ray from Uncork’d Entertainment.)
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