Nick Berger's Blog

              There’s a section in the synopsis on the back of Redlands Vol. 1 that perfectly describes the comic’s approach to portraying witches, “…the characters of Redlands play victim and villain…”             Redlands is a comic filled with bad people and morally grey people, and they don’t get much better than that. The main coven does some terrible things in the name of survival and Jodie Bellaire (the writer) wants us to question their actions. It’s rare to see women portrayed in such a complex way; usually, women are shown to either be saints or devils. This has gotten better over time of course, but the lack of a middle ground is still the norm in mainstream media. This is, of course, mainly because women are still primarily written by straight white men and not, well, women. Even if I didn’t read the introduction by Tom King talking abou...

     Horns is a big mish-mash of genres and tones that does a good job at showing the attitude and potential of the New Weird. The film primarily plays with the Gothic, especially the elements of romanticism and extreme emotion. Love and revenge are central to the film’s story and characters, especially Ig. However, the film also mines a lot of comedy out of Ig’s powers. Even in the comedy there’s a sad cynicism; the characters who Ig influences are all repressing lies, urges, and insecurities. Ig resents the people in this small town, and the film reflects that with its jokes.            It’s why I’d hesitate to call this a parody or satire. The film takes the story and main characters seriously, it just happens to also have some dark, cynical humor. The mix of comedy and drama makes the film feel more authentic than if it leaned one way or the other. It’s more of a Gothic, supernatural dramedy. It even has the same questionable relati...

              While the book absolutely places emphasis on the relationships between characters, the film version of Annihilation makes these relationships far more central to the story. The characters are allowed to be more emotional overall, and the addition of a fifth member rounds out this dynamic. We get more insight into the lives and personalities of the members of the team, with Josie standing out in particular. She’s the only character who gets to die on her own terms, and it’s a hauntingly beautiful death.   It’s somewhat ironic that the film has more character development for the cast than the book, since it’s usually the other way around. In comparison to the biologist, Lena is far more human. She needed to be since this is closer to an ensemble story (though Lena is the clear protagonist) than the novel, which is solely about the biologist’s journey. Dr. Ventress is also a far more sympathet...

              There were moments in Annihilation where I felt like I was breaking out of a cult. Especially early on, when the biologist started to become aware of the extent of the psychologist’s hypnosis, it felt like suddenly seeing that the life you were living was a lie and that the truth was so much more horrifying. Or, perhaps, it was more like having a religious experience. Like being blessed and cursed with knowledge, the ability to see how the world really worked and how those in charge want to suppress that truth. It felt like I was reading the journal of someone slowly, but still suddenly, being radicalized. Whatever you want to compare it to, Annihilation recreates that sense of discovery in a very real way, focusing on the horror and confusion over the sense of wonder other stories may focus on. But it doesn’t quite ignore that sense of wonder either, it just ties it to the horror. That sense t...

  The Pulse Between Dimensions and the Desert uses fantasy and sci-fi to explore the intricacies of Mexican culture, femininity vs. masculinity in said culture, and various other themes Rios de la Luz has intimate experiences with. It was so refreshing reading a collection of stories that center on Hispanic and LGBT characters.   Even though I’m not Mexican (Cuban-American myself), I feel a kinship with this work. That mostly comes down to the little things, like seeing a reference to “La Vida Es Un Carnaval” by Celia Cruz and suddenly being transported back to Hialeah in the early 2000s for a second. I felt the frustration seeping out of this collection, and not just in the obvious ways like the general disdain for white people and machismo men. This collection felt like the result of Rios de la Luz having read sci-fi and horror works for years and just asking herself where the people like her were. Where were the meaningful horror works written by and a...

       Dark Water follows in the tradition of J-Horror focusing less on how scary the supernatural is and more on how it affects the protagonist's mental state. The film is less about a haunted apartment building and more about how it makes Yoshimi come off as paranoid and unstable while she's trying to keep custody of her child. That, combined with how selfish and cruel her ex-husband comes off as, make us empathize with her, which I think presents a key difference between this film and most mainstream American horror films. In many horror films we tend to watch, the characters act as a catalyst for us to experience scares. However, there has a been a turn in recent years with films like Hereditary , which are far more interested in the family drama than the supernatural elements. That's not to say American horror films were never catalysts for exploring character relationships, but it's more that films like these seem to be gaining more prominence in the mainstream...

  Gyo is an interesting take on a monster story because the horror doesn’t exactly come from the monsters themselves but from what powers them. The scariest part of the manga is the Death-Stench that reanimates fish corpses and infects people. It can’t be stopped because, well, it’s a gas. The manga seems to give us an explanation for how it came to be in the form of a World War II experiment, but that’s upended later when we see the gas is alive and the legs have no real way of moving. This gives it a more mysterious element that makes it even more terrifying. We even see the gas take a somewhat physical form that only some can see. It has ghoulish faces and hands, and it’s not entirely clear if it’s just people seeing this in random cloudy shapes or if this is its true form. It’s that ambiguity, combined with the overwhelming force of the legged corpses, that truly make it horrifying. The manga is very reminiscent of zombie apocalypse stories and is content in ...

                The Hole doesn’t mine horror from gothic castles or scary monsters; it mines horror from the existential dread of life itself. The true horror of the novel is in the contrast between Oghi’s memories and his current life. He’s trapped in his own body and can’t properly express himself. All he can do is lie in bed and remember memories from a life that’s gone now. He doesn’t even have the privilege of having all his memories at once.  Oghi is forced to deal with people talking for him, unwanted pity, and the horror of not being able to express yourself when you so desperately want to. When you want to express meaningful sorrow for your mother-in-law, or when you desperately want to tell someone that that same mother-in-law is purposefully sabotaging your life, the worst thing in the world is having your communication be twiddled down to blink once for yes and two for no. Will Heath’s review of the book on “Bo...

              Kwaidan is an interesting collection of stories because, at least to me, none of them were really scary. Sure, there were some moments that were unsettling and some that were surprising, but I rarely felt tense and never scared. As a matter of fact, the construction of some of these stories felt like jokes. Granted, that could be said for a lot of horror as horror and comedy share a lot of DNA (the subversion of expectations, the reliance on set-up to make a punchline/scare effective, and many more elements), but there are moments where something happens that seems like it should be scary comes off more as funny. For example, “The Story of Mimi-Nashi-Höichi” has a tense scene where a ghost is trying to take Höichi but cannot see him because he’s covered in holy texts. However, his ears weren’t covered, so the ghost rips off his ears and leaves. The story basically ends with the priest saying, “oo...

              The Terracotta Bride presents so many ideas and themes in such a short burst that it can be hard to process. One of the most important themes in the story is the perception/treatment of women. Junsheng has absolutely no respect for women, seeing them as possessions that he can use as he pleases. This is made literal with Yonghua, who is a test run for an artificial body he can use to be immortal. Him and his associates created a new form of life as just a way to see if they can further their own lives. Although Yonghua is naïve and barely alive, the rate at which she’s learning makes sentience entirely possible in her future. If she were modeled after a man, the characters would marvel at this and potentially treat her like a person and not an object. Siew Tsin is the only one who treats Yonghua like a person because she relates to her. Siew Tsin is also seen as a naïve object by those around her...

                 The Gilda Stories has a unique take on vampirism, where drinking blood isn’t simply an act of taking from a victim, but is treated as an exchange. When the vampires drink the blood of others, they leave them with pleasant dreams and heal their wound. This leans hard into the more romantic takes on vampirism, which I find more compelling than a lot of vampire fiction. Being a vampire in this novel doesn’t automatically make you a monster, although it does make it easier for one to become one. The vampire is not in the same league as werewolves or other creatures; they are instead like the mythical Sandman, leaving pleasant dreams for those they visit. The tragedy, then, comes more from immortality.  While the novel does romanticize the idea of living forever at points, it also doesn’t leave out the downsides. With being able to witness new life and amazing advancements comes the downside of seeing the worst in huma...

              While Young Frankenstein is obviously a comedic take on Frankenstein, it is also a parody of Gothic film-making as a whole. The film undercuts moments of horror or intense emotion with gags, either undercutting the tension or playing up the ridiculousness of the situation. However, it does so with a love and respect that is reinforced by the way its shot. There are dutch angles, heavy shadows, and authentic props that are reminiscent of the Universal monster films (mostly Frankenstein of course).    The movie also imbues the characters with comedic personalities that offsets the mainly straightforward Gothic atmosphere. It’s as if someone dropped a handful of cartoon characters into a lost Frankenstein sequel. Even Frederick Frankenstein, who acts as the straight man in most scenarios, has a temper that leads to some memorable jokes. Ironically for such a goofy comedy, Frederick’s co...

        First off, the fact that th e film opens with a fictionalized Mary Shelley telling the story is hilarious, considering how different both films are from the movie. However, different is not always synonymous with "bad" or even "inferior." This film is so far removed from Shelley's novel that it should be regarded as its own work. Even when it takes plot points and ideas from the book it goes in wildly different directions with them. The concept of the film itself is taken from the book, but instead of denying the creature's request, the bride is created.       This film, unlike the first, is a film of indulgence. It has more set pieces, more humor, and more monsters than the first. Even the science is taken to a new level; an example is when Dr. Pretorius shows off the tiny people he created, leaving me in a state of incurable madness. It's a far campier film, fully indulging in the raw emotion and terror that defines the Gothic. ...

  If Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is the story of a father rejecting his son, then James Whale’s Frankenstein is the story of society rejecting a child. In the film Vic-- I mean Henry Frankenstein does not reject his son immediately. At first, he is defending his creation from the others. However, their words get to him as he sees the creature reacting poorly to certain things (such as fire and light) and is convinced that the creature is a monster. It’s similar to how a parent can be turned on their LGBTQ+ child by society. There’s even the (presumably) heterosexual professor telling Henry that the brain he used was the criminal brain, not the normal brain, like how some bigots believe that being gay or trans is a mental illness and isn’t normal. In the end, of course, the bigots have a happy ending and the son is presumed dead. Like the novel, it’s a tragic end for the child that’s seen as a monster Aside from evidence from the film itself, this reading is sup...

  The Comet examines the racial divide in America through a story of survival. When Julia and Jim are alone together, convinced they’re the only survivors, they cooperate and are willing to set aside their race in order to help rebuild society. However, the moment more white people show up, Julia seems to forget this, jumping at the chance to be back with her own race, leaving Jim behind. Although, to be fair, she does defend Jim, which is the absolute bare minimum of decency. However, she doesn’t know his wife is going to show up after she leaves, so from her perspective she’s leaving him there to die. I guess I take back my earlier point. The second the societal divide is reintroduced, Julia completely disregards the safety of the man who helped her and goes back to the racist status quo.   It’s also interesting to note that when Julia’s white family arrives everyone is fine, whereas when Jim’s wife finds him she carries with her their baby’s corpse. I see this as a repr...

  While reading Frankenstein, I couldn’t help but see it as a LGBTQ+ narrative. The book opens with Captain Robert Walton and his crew rescuing Victor Frankenstein from the cold. The way Walton describes Victor with such loving detail comes off as romantic. It’s hard to read it as anything but Walton falling in love with Victor. This observation switched on the “okay so this book is gay” switch in my head and colored the rest of my reading.               The Creature himself suffers a narrative that most LGBTQ+ people are familiar with, whether it be through living it or from fear of living it. When his father/creator realizes that his son didn’t turn out the way he envisioned, he is instantly rejected. Victor does not see the beautiful man he wanted to create and treats his abnormal appearance as hideous. Throughout the book, he believes his creation to be pure evil. However, the Creature is not evil ...