June 24, 2006

Abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy

The Call of Cthulhu
(Andrew Leman, 2005) ***1/2

The envelope from Greencine was like any other DVD envelope, shewing nothing of the horrors within. Upon pulling the disc out, I was discomfited by the hideous singularity of the lettering thereon. Pressing "play movie" on a menu which faded into the movie in a fashion that bordered on the blasphemous, I was confronted by terrors surpassing those of the mouldier pages of the Pnakotic Manuscripts. Told in the frightful style of the most ancient cinema, this film revealed forbidden horrors that chilled the blood. Of the story, of the frightful dreams of a Providence sculptor, the repulsive statue guarded by a mad Esquimaux shaman, the nightmarish rites of the darkest Louisiana bayous, and the monstrosity slumbering in the ancient depths of the South Pacific, I recoil in fear of mentioning them. I will only give the least disquieting glimpse of these diabolic occurrences.


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