The Severed Sun
Festival programmers can sometimes inadvertently make a statement. Naturally, there are the sidebars, retrospectives, and restorations designed to showcase a certain talent or idea. But there’s also the understated desire to curate films and shorts that speak to the urgency of the times. Based on a few of the films I’ve seen or heard about from this year’s festival, the idea of suffocating religious fervor bumping up against survival of the poorest seems to be top of mind. First there was the excellent Witte Wieven (reviewed earlier), plus a secret screening of the upcoming Hugh Grant starring vehicle titled Heretic that sees a domineering man test the faith of two visiting missionaries. And I’m sure there are others in a varied festival like this that handpicks dozens of horror films…. a genre that loves to represent modern times with hazy flourishes of demons, murderers, and ancient gothic horror tales.
Now along comes Dean Puckett’s The Severed Sun in which a small village of God-fearing people (in an unspecified time but feeling very eighteenth century nonetheless) have to deal with a murderous force from the woods, possibly brought to their doorsteps by their young neighbor Magpie (Emma Appleton). Yes, pretty much the demons, murderers, and gothic atmosphere are check marked in The Severed Sun as well.
Magpie is shown from the very beginning as something other than a virtuous presence. She kills her husband and blames it on an accident with his ax. She’s seen cuddling in the woods with a dark demon (pretty much the only fantastic imagery in a film very rooted in the nasty bloodshed of hand-to-hand savagery), and apparently has an incestuous relationship with her brother, David (Lewis Gribben). And did I mention she’s also the daughter of the village priest (Toby Stephens) who holds his position of high spirituality over the village like an iron hand, intent on keeping them faithful only for their community gardening skills? None of this paints Magpie as a conscientious observer.
Things get even more unruly when another local man is torn to shreds and fingers begin to point to Magpie as the sorceress of all the village’s troubles.
Like Witte Wieven, Puckett’s visage of this certain time and place is rank with sexual abuse and patriarchal power… something that Magpie (and the film) seems intent on demolishing. Tracing more closely to a very screwed up fairy tale about enticing something evil to balance the gender scales rather than an outright horror film, The Severed Sun looks great and feels intelligent in the way it shades moral character somewhere between hopeless and marginally accepting. This is a film that wants to scare the audience with ideals rather than images, although “The Beast”- which comes into view slowly throughout the film- is a pretty malevolent creation, nonetheless. Like the final voice-over by Magpie confirms, the things born into the shadows are often the ones that are most visible and lasting. The Severed Sun is a dark lament for bringing evil into the light, no matter the cost.
AJ Goes to the Dog Park
Entire franchises have been established on greater slights than the one given to AJ (AJ Thompson) in this film. John Wick has his dog killed. The toxic blood that spiraled out of control and divided two mob families on The Sopranos began with a joke about someone’s wife.
In Toby Stephens’ AJ Goes to the Dog Park, content AJ’s life is upended when his beloved dog park is turned in a “blog park” by the local mayor, causing him to run the gamut of ‘skills’ that will pit him against her. From that innocuous set-up, AJ trains and generally deadpans his way through a film that feels more like a sketch comedy expanded to torturous lengths than a bonafide film.
Seemingly on brand as writer-director Stephens has worked mostly on network comedy shows, AJ Goes to the Dog Park is ripe with a cartoonish humor overlayed onto a narrative that never, ever takes itself seriously. Funny in spurts, but ultimately, it’s a comedy whose wavelength I never gelled with.
The Spirit of Halloweentown
In the late 90’s, a successful Disney Channel movie was filmed in a small Oregon town. Titled Halloweentown (1998) and gaining a loyal following, the city saw an opportunity for further income by literally turning itself into the town from the film for twelve weeks every fall. Seen as a financial boon for most- and a Christianity hating exploitation by, well, at least one woman- this season of witchery is the jumping off point for Bradford Thomason and Brett Whitcomb’s The Spirit of Halloweentown which documents everything from the local cheer team putting together a ‘dead dance’ routine to the out-of-towner who’s taken over the legendarily haunted hotel and restaurant. And while not every strand of ordinary life shown here holds the greatest of interest, the documentary is a perceptive illumination of the varied personalities that often make up such a town.
It’s not hard to understand the impetus for St. Helen’s, Oregon desire to capitalize on the Halloween season. Every town in American profits off the equally devious idea of a drunken fall festival like Oktoberfest. But The Spirit of Halloweentown largely avoids the contentious attitudes and focuses instead on the ordinary people of the town. We don’t get a 30-minute peek into a city council meeting like that of a Frederick Wiseman film, but we do get the slightly heartbreaking story of a young woman’s drive to choreograph a dance event and her broken home life, and the self-inflicted troubles of a business owner involved in a (pretty silly) Yelp review war.
Less interesting are the forays into real spooky season theatrics, such as the introduction of a seance by the local ‘mystic’ and several ghost hunting expeditions that feel like staged hockiness for the sake of ratcheting up the needed horror film tension. And don’t get me started on the horribly contrived final scene.
But regardless of these minor missteps, what The Spirit of Halloweentown does rightfully convey is the weakness of a town to bottle and perpetuate on any weirdness that can further their identity, and the various stages of division that brings with it. I don’t blame them one bit. After all, it makes for good viewing when a God-loving woman playing hymns on the street tells a man in a devil costume that he’s loved by God.
Fantastic Fest 2024 ends today, Thursday September 26th.
Dallas Film Now. 