Lot 36
Director – Guillermo Navarro
Writers – Regina Corrado, based on an original story by Guillermo del Toro
Stars – Tim Blake Nelson, Sebastian Roché, Elpidia Carrillo
Graveyard Rats
Director – Vincenzo Natali
Writers – Guillermo del Toro, based on a short story by Henry Kuttner
Stars – David Hewlett, Alexander Eling, Ish Morris
The Autopsy
Director – David Prior
Writers – David S. Goyer, Michael Shea, based on the short story by Guillermo del Toro
Stars – F. Murray Abraham, Glynn Turman, Luke Roberts
The Outside
Director - Ana Lily Amirpour
Writers - Haley Z. Boston, Emily Carroll based on a short story by Guillermo del Toro
Stars – Kate Micucci, Martin Starr
Pickman’s Model
Director – Keith Thomas
Writers - Lee Patterson, Guillermo del Toro based on a short story by H.P. Lovecraft
Stars – Ben Barnes, Crispin Glover, Oriana Leman
Dreams in the Witch House
Director – Catherine Hardwicke
Writers – Mika Watkins, Guillermo del Toro based on a short story by H.P. Lovecraft
Stars – Rupert Grint, Ismael Cruz Cordova, DJ Qualls
The Viewing
Director – Panos Cosmatos
Writers – Panos Cosmatos, Aaron Stewart-Ahn, Guillermo del Toro
Stars – Peter Weller, Steve Agee, Eric André
The Murmuring
Director – Jennifer Kent
Writers – Jennifer Kent, based on a short story by Guillermo del Toro
Stars – Essie Davis, Andrew Lincoln, Greg Ellwand
‘Guillermo Del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities’ is a handsomely mounted series, containing many vivid, memorable performances and set pieces. It’s a much more intriguing and impressive selection than the cartoonery and scrappiness of ‘Creepshow’, and arguably more consistent (different aims, of course). Del Toro introduces each episode, pulling an item from the puzzle-box-like cabinet that triggers the story forthcoming and names the director. This generosity also acts as a badge of quality, for this is a bunch of pretty esteemed filmmakers. Ultimately, it’s a cut above as a selection.
In the first episode, ‘Lot 36’, Tim Blake Nelson’s angry performance is all. It’s directed by Guillermo Navarro who has collaborated with Del Toro several times previously and is chiefly a cinematographer (he did ‘The Devil’s Bone’, ‘Hellboy’ and ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’, for example). The setting of a storage facility and Nelson’ abrasiveness as Nick Appleton are the hooks, but the narrative is a bit front-loaded; meaning when things take a turn for the supernatural, it seems like it hasn’t left itself enough time. The monster is the kind beset by CGI and it’s just a bit average and underwhelming, despite a superior adult tone.
Vincenzo Natali’s ‘Graveyard Rats’ is the kind of genre fare that, having established its protagonist as somewhat reprehensible, sets about gleefully putting him through the slapstick horror wringer. Rats, claustrophobia, taphophobia and more horrors are poured onto greedy, graverobbing Masson’s head (a game David Hewitt) to absurdist amounts. Natali – who established his genre credentials with ‘Cube’, ‘Splice’ and many episodes of genre series – channels his inner-Raimi and delivers one of those wild horror rides that fits just nicely in the 40 minute format. Nothing original but Natali’s direction delivers a better and more enjoyable slice of EC comic-style Gothic terror than many. The dental examination of a drowned corpse was one to make me wince.
And if corpses being messed with makes you queasy, then ‘The Autopsy’ will hit your buttons. David Prior’s ‘The Empty Man’ had plenty of genre savvy and mashing-up and ‘The Autopsy’ exhibits further his sure hand. Starts off in earnest looking like a police procedural (a serial killer tale, perhaps) and then moves into realms more … otherworldy. It helps that it has scored a seasoned veteran like F. Murray Abraham as the lead, especially when he’s working solo for the most part and can carry it all effortlessly. The tone shifts subtly and the shocks creep up accumulating in a go-for-broke gruesome ending. A full bloodied horror that gives equal attention to creeps and squirms and, wherever else it goes, has no intention of pulling punches.
It's true that this series doesn’t really try with its titles. However, Ana Lily Amirpour’s ‘The Outside’ is the one that hits something heartfelt and horrific more than any other entry, It has an almost Joe Dante feel, in that Dante was good at surface gloss and the truly creepy in equal amounts, at serving up acidic slabs of brightly hued satire. Ana Lily Amirpour hit renown with ‘A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night’, so you know you’re in safe hands with the social commentary. Kate Micucci gives a brave performance as a woman who finds the pack of pretty but vacuous work colleagues fascinating and impenetrable and just wants to belong. Martin Starr’s performance as her husband is wonderfully warm and humane, and between these actors there’s a hook that goes deep. It’s the episode that has haunted me most and has begged that I mull it over. The shock did hit hard (oh yeah, of course: taxidermy) after the surreal turns had surprised, and it eventually ends up as tragedy.
Keith Thomas’ ‘Pickwick’s Model’ has a winning period setting as an upcoming artist stumbles upon another whose paintings, in typical Lovecraftian fashion, acts as insights or instigations into untold otherworldly horrors. Or something. A chief pleasure of Lovecraft is that much of the horror remains abstract, of the imagination, untouchable. In visual adaptations, this can be a muddle, but this, as many are are prone, goes for what gross-out it can find for an anchor. Get past Crispin Glover’s distracting accent and it’s an entertaining if undemanding creepy tale.
But Catherine Hardwicke’s ‘Dreams in the Witch House’ is a depiction of goggle-eyed Rupert Grint stumbling through a Lovecraftian mess. Period recreation, the scary and the goofy and the maudlin barely hold together, leading to an end note that we don’t really care about. But it least it can be credited with the best title.
Panos Cosmatos’ ‘The Viewing’, however, puts things firmly back in the singular vision vain. His beautifully composed shots, the auditory immersion breaking out into synth numbers to hit the pleasure zones, his broad use of colour plus his usual tweak of psychedelia – a kind of sunburnt trippiness – gives the simmering build-up and escalation a somewhat truer sensation of Lovecraftian horror, of meddling in and unleashing unimaginable horrors. One of Cosmatos’ dodgy guru types (Weller on fine form) gathers a group of artists and scientists together to try and penetrate the secrets of something he has acquired. The last image of set free horror is one to linger long after.
Jennifer Kent’s ‘The Murmuring’ is the nadir of the series’ titles; yes it’s alluding to the murmurations of birds as well as ghostly voices, but even so. It gets all the marks for performances of Essie Davis and Andrew Lincoln and an increasingly unsettling build-up. Kent knows that jump-scares don’t haunt, even if she knows that noises in the night do. But as with her breakthrough triumph, ‘The Babadook’ there isn’t much subtext or thematic subtlety, with all the analogies pretty upfront. If the slow burn ultimately arrives at something quite routine - horror being a way to process grief, etc - there are enough creaks and bangs, empathy and quiet ghosts to hit the mark.
