The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein
Possibly the only thing shared between Spike Milligan and Peter Ackroyd is that they have both published their own take on the Frankenstein story. I’ve not read the Milligan version, but I think I’m safe in assuming that the only similarities with Ackroyd’s The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein are the bare bones of the story, something familiar to as all via Mary Shelley’s novel or Universal and Hammer film adaptations. I’m confident in this assumption – in no way do I imagine Peter Ackroyd as the missing fifth Goon.
Ackroyd remains faithful to Shelley’s framework in his re imagining, embellishing the story with an exploration of the young Victor Frankenstein’s thirst to study anatomy. There are vivid descriptions of 19th century scientific experimentation; the attempts at reviving cadavers with electricity, the dark London inns where Frankenstein seeks out the services of the Resurrection men, the dangerous underworld types who will bring him fresh corpses to work on. His knowledge and love for London unquestionable, Ackroyd writes about the city with relish. It’s a convincing and very fascinating world to dip into.
The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein also makes Mary Shelley one of its cast, along with Bysshe Shelley, although this is a conceit that sometimes sits at odds with the thrust of the narrative. But all in all the novel is a fine addition to the Frankenstein canon. And it already has its successors; Danny Boyle’s stage version is currently playing. Interestingly, the duality between Victor Frankenstein and his monster is explored in Boyle’s version, where the two lead actors alternate the roles, and Ackroyd does something similar, exploiting the link between creator and creation and offering an unusual, and quite shocking, conclusion.
The Last Exorcism follows The Blair Witch Project and Paranormal Activity along the path of mock documentary horror films. Hand held cameras, rapport between subject and camera operator, increasing fear in the subject as things slowly grow out of control – these things have become something of a genre cliché. Indeed, I was almost put off watching The Last Exorcism because I believed this type of film had nothing more left to offer. And producer Eli Roth appeared not to have done himself any favours either, this movie being touted as the out and out horror it certainly isn’t. So for a film that received such a mixed reaction last year, does The Last Exorcism have anything at all to offer? Yes it does…
Firstly the performances in this film are all first rate, making many of the negative reviews unjustified. Patrick Fabian is outstanding as Cotton Marcus, an evangelical minister who’s made a sideline in providing an exorcism service. He readily admits he’s a fake, using no more than clever conjuring skills and the reliance of his gullible victims to get by. However, he is ready to come clean and, prompted by stories that many exorcisms have ended in deaths, suggests a documentary crew capture his very last exorcist duty.
So far so good, with director Daniel Stamm slowly building pace as Marcus travels into Middle America to visit the Sweetzer family, where young Nell (Ashley Bell) is possessed with a supposed demon and doing terrible things in the farmyard. Bell delivers the other outstanding performance in the film, and it’s compassion for Nell that draws the viewer, and more importantly Marcus, in further. Not unpredictably, the film changes gear after his fake performance to rid the Sweetzer’s of their “demon”. As we are expecting, his troubles have only just begun…
Whilst it delivers nothing new for the horror genre, I found The Last Exorcism surprisingly effective. If you’ve read any other reviews it will be no surprise to hear that the ending has met almost universal disapproval. Rather than a shock or twist conclusion, it’s just a surprise in that the last ten minutes or so of the film appear to be from something different altogether, not at all in keeping with what’s happened in the last hour or so. The final minutes also invite too much comparison with the wrapping up of The Blair Witch Project that make full appreciation of The Last Exorcism hard to justify. And viewers will no doubt come away with other borrowings from more original films. I counted Rosemary’s Baby and Race With the Devil amongst then.
I’m still recommending this though, primarily for the superb Fabian and Bell. And, whilst it certainly isn’t a horror masterpiece, it is certainly an at times very creepy film.
There is a dusty title on my shelf at home called Phantom Britain. Published in 1975, Marc Alexander’s book collects several accounts of ghost sightings and tales from across the country. There are many such collections as this, dating back no doubt through the centuries. In The English Ghost: Spectres Through Time Peter Ackroyd brings together the best of such real life ghost stories.
Ackroyd’s collection is one of the best I’ve seen of this type. His research appears very thorough and the only criticism is that too many of these eyewitness accounts of haunted houses, poltergeists, ghostly dogs and possessions date from before the 20th century. They are interesting to read, but their attention to detail and matter-of-factness make them resemble the fictional spooky tales that followed them, in particular those from the late Victorian era. Such close similarity to what most readers take as pure fancy may dull the effect of these supposedly true recollections.
This is an excerpt from The Little Girl, dating from 1880:
I had had that feeling for some minutes, when I saw at the foot of the bed a child, about seven or nine years old. The child seemed as if it were on the bed, and came gliding towards me as I lay. It was the figure of a little girl in her nightdress – a little girl with dark hair and a very white face. I tried to speak to her but could not. She came slowly on up to the top of the bed, and then I saw her face clearly. She seemed in great trouble; her hands were clasped and her eyes were turned up with a look of entreaty, an almost agonised look. Then, slowly unclasping her hands, she touched me on the shoulder. The hand felt icy cold, and while I strove to speak she was gone.
The bulk of these tales are brief and often inconsequential, and what fascinates in many is the insight into bygone times. However the best in my opinion were the more recent eye-witness accounts, such as the stories of phantom hitch-hikers and unexplained happenings on dark and deserted byways. The hauntings of Blue Bell Hill in the 60s and 70s are brilliantly creepy, as is the account of the Phantom of the A38. More contemporary phenomena like this would have make The English Ghost even more essential reading. Rather than the inspiration for ghost stories, these are the beginnings of the modern urban myth, which perhaps deserve a volume of their own.
Do you believe in ghosts?
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