THE CULT OF THE OBSCURE: "The Fallen Boys" By Aaron Dries

By: Mark Ambrose

Title: The Fallen Boys

Author: Aaron Dries

Published By: Black T-Shirt Books

Date Released: 15/02/2018

The Review:

               

If you’re a regular SLUDGELORDreader, you’re undoubtedly a fan of the “dark shit”.  Whether it’s the grime and guts and supernatural horror antics of death metal, or the graphic “there is no point to all this” nihilism of sludge and doom, you have likely spent hours, days, maybe years plumbing the depths of human suffering and depravity, either spelled out in lyrics, splattered across album covers, or translated aurally via crippling, filthy riffs and snarls.  When the crossover appeal has been particularly palpable, we’ve even offered praise to movies and comics – particularly those gritty offerings that could serve as inspiration or even be scored by our favorite metal bands.  That should serve as fair warning that with our first fiction review for THE SLUDGELORD, there’s no optimism or decency to cling to.  If anything, this nasty little opus by horror up-and-comer Aaron Dries is about as crushing a tome as any I’ve come across – there are no uplifting harmonies, no “clean vocals”, no kernel of positivity to mine.  This is hardcore horror with genuine literary heft – too heartfelt for Splatterpunk and too savage for any spinner rack at your mall book shop.  In short, it’s a perfect addition for a SLUDGELORD reader’s library.

               

“The Fallen Boys”opens with a terrifying home invasion and abduction – all the horrible end results are teased out, so it’s less thrilling than agonizing.  Two reprehensible maniacs secure a young woman for some greater purpose that is initially only hinted at.  In some ways, this is the most humanitarian act of the whole novel: Dries lets you back out if this wanton cruelty is too much for you, there’s one more opportunity to jump ship.  And for those who don’t like their horror steeped in realism and grim yet poetically haunting violence – I found myself drawing comparisons with the goriest passages of “Blood Meridian” – there is no shame in passing on “The Fallen Boys”.  For those who stick with it, Dries is a true master at engendering sympathy for fallible, complex characters.  Marshall and Clair Deakins, the doomed couple at the heart of the novel, are a believable couple, struggling with their withdrawn, unhappy son, Noah, and their own secrets, though they are undeniably in love.  When they’re put through unimaginable tragedy, it doesn’t seem like things can get worse; when their pain is revealed as a calculated destruction, Dries manages to descend further and further into the depths of human misery.  To go much further would spoil a masterfully told story – suffice it to say that between the acts of foreshadowing and subtle hints, and the stomach churning violence, I found myself actually muttering “Holy shit…” more times when reading this book than I have in a long while.

               

When Dallas Mayr, who went by the pen name Jack Ketchum, passed this year, a small but significant number of readers mourned the passing of a sometimes unsung literary horror genius.  With stories like “Off Season” and “The Girl Next Door”, he practically invented the American wing of “hardcore horror” writing (sometimes called Splatterpunk).  But that gives short shrift to Ketchum’s talents; his protagonists were as human, as flawed, as sympathetic as any I’ve encountered.  But the human monstrosities who spread pain and sorrow like a plague were some of the most hateful creations I’ve ever encountered.  Sure, they have their own internal logic to their misdeeds, like any genuine sociopath, but their sadism, their irredeemable selfishness, their cruelties make them archetypal villains you rarely encounter outside supernatural fiction.  The two villains at the heart of “The Fallen Boys” stand alongside any of Ketchum’s creations – one possessed by selfish stupidity, the other by inhuman sadism, but both without a hope in hell of salvation.  With Mayr’s passing, Aaron Dries may be the next poet laureate of pitch black horror fiction.  His complex plotting, heartless execution, and expertly drawn characters are enviable for writers of any genre.  His status as “genre writer” may cause some literary tryhards to look elsewhere, but those who can stomach the misery and pain, the wanton violence, those who excavate darkness in all media will recognize the burgeoning talent Mr. Dries exemplifies in The Fallen Boys.  To those who choose to plumb the depths with me – my apologies and I wish you a speedy recovery.

More info: Official

THE CULT OF THE OBSCURE: Gideon Falls #1 by Jeff Lemire, Andrea Sorrentino & Dave Stewart

By: Mark Ambrose

Title: Gideon Falls #1

Author: Jeff Lemire

Artist: Andrea Sorrentino

Colors: Dave Stewart

Lettering: Steve Wands

Publisher: Image Comics

Date Released: 07/03/2018

The Review:
   

Jeff Lemire has become Canada’s own modern equivalent of Alan Moore, albeit less cantankerous.  Splitting output between the big two (most notably on Marvel’s heralded “Moon Knight”) and independent publishers, the writer/artist has equal facility with reality grounded dramatic fare (the essential “Essex County” trilogy), vast sci-fi epics (“Descender”) and superheroes both mainstream and esoteric (his key work in the “Valiant Universe”).  With “Gideon Falls”, his newest creator-owned project at indie behemoth Image Comics, Lemire invokes the creeping dread of his best efforts to tell his first “all out” horror tale.

               

“Gideon Falls”splits its focus between two figures: Norton, a disturbingly devout acolyte, donned in a surgical mask, sorting through debris for some unknown purpose, and a priest, Father Wilfred.  Wilfred seems, at best, uninvested in his calling, pulling slugs from a flask as he drives to his new home and parish: “Gideon Falls”.  His predecessor, Father Tom, died under mysterious, possibly grisly circumstances, that his committed parishioner, Gene, doesn’t want to discuss.  Norton, meanwhile, expounds on the nature of evil with his therapist, Dr. Xu; he’s growing more convinced of the literal existence of the Devil.  The sympathetic, realistic doctor advises that his collection is mere garbage and a symptom of mental illness.  If Norton cannot reassert his hold on reality, she will institutionalize him… again.

               

Norton and Wilfred have converging experiences around the vision of a nightmarish location: the Black Barn.  Wilfred’s is quite visceral, while Norton’s is more tenuous – is he manifesting this dark locale?  Recalling an event already lived by the priest?  The timeline here is rather mysterious but that’s one of the best parts of a comic debut: what has already been mapped out by the team in question?  What will spiral out in the telling?  Lemire has been remarkably open in the past, responding in letters sections, enthusiastically pursuing new tangents in fictional universes (like his terror-tinged superhero story “Black Hammer”, or “Sweet Tooth” – which may be the final, underappreciated Vertigo masterpiece).  But for a first issue, “Gideon Falls” has a hell of a hook.

A great deal of the burden falls on artist Andrea Sorrentino, whose sketchy, scratchy linework conveys stress – mental and metaphysical, as the landscape around the Black Barn seems shattered.  Like fellow Canadian (and occasional collaborator) Matt Kindt, Lemire suffuses his stories with slow dread, punctuated by horrific, startling violence.  Sorrentino’s depiction of ritualistic violence on the page is shocking without hedging into schlocky splatter.  It makes me dread what could come in future installments.

               

Special mention should be made for colorist Dave Stewart, an industry unto himself.  He has been a lynchpin in Mike Mignola’s “Hellboy/B.P.R.D.” Universe, brought vivid, hallucinatory beauty to Moon & Ba’s “Daytripper”, and worked with master monster illustrator Eric Powell in his “Goon” series.  His work here evokes the great American flyover country, with muted earthtones, juxtaposed with dirty grays of Norton’s urban wasteland.  The charnel house reds splattered across the final pages are the work of a true master, and colorists will be studying at the feet of Stewart for decades to come.

               

In short, “Gideon Falls” is a great monthly comic to hop onto for SLUDGELOLRDacolytes.  Whether delving into Norton’s filthy urban decay or Father Wilfred’s profane, sacrilegious journey, this is a work that could be soundtracked to Godflesh or Sunn O))) – a droning, apocalyptic vision that could go anywhere, but will likely plumb into the darkest depths of human and demonic blasphemy.

“Gideon Falls #1” is available here

THE CULT OF OBSCURE ODDITIES: An Essay on classic “Psychotronic” movie Psychomania (a.k.a. The Death Wheelers)

By: Mark Ambrose

Media Format:Blu-ray/DVD

Original Release Year: 1971

Home Video Release:17/02/2017

Label: Arrow Video

Directed by:Don Sharp

Written by: Arnaud d’Usseau & Julien Zimet

Starring: George Sanders, Beryl Reid, Nicky Henson, Mary Larkin

Music by: John Cameron

Runtime: 95 minutes

The Review

Every few years, an aging nerd will contrive a long form essay about the sorry state of genre/music/movie fandom.  The internet, you see, actually ruined everything, and the golden age of pop culture (an era said writer thankfully experienced firsthand) has come and gone.  This wistful bullshit sounds more appropriate from pastors and politicians, not metal heads and gore hounds.  The internet has complicated a lot of things, but access to undiscovered gems and genre oddities of all media abounds, and the crossover potential from music to film to literature to comics is so abundant that practically everyone has a Tumblr account just to keep track of their favorite Doctor Who slashfic authors.  Bandcamp, crowdsourcing, home recording, and social media have brought new voices into heavy music at an astounding rate, and resurrected out of print and obscure oddities on a weekly basis.

More and more, to be a serious fan of music is to be a student of pop culture.  With that in mind, we at THE SLUDGELORD are going to be examining those interstices where our obsessions meet: movies, literature, comics, artwork, and more.  In short, all the shit we think is cool, that deserves coverage, and will probably appeal to everyone who loves the music we’ve been highlighting on here.

In the spirit of cultural cross-contamination, it’s appropriate that our first movie review is one of the video cornerstones for none other than Electric Wizard’s Jus Oborn: “Psychomania (a.k.a The Death Wheelers)”.  A cult staple on late night British TV, “Psychomania”features all the elements you’d expect in a doom rocker’s favorite film: longhair bikers, devil worship, occult rituals, suicide pacts, ancient stone circles, trippy sequences, and a funky prog score that has moments of straight up doom dread.  Though this functions more as a sequence of atmospheric set pieces and pretty impressive stunt work, the plot, as such, is fairly simple: Tom Latham (Nicky Henson) is the leader of The Living Dead – a morbid, occult-minded motorcycle gang.  His mother (Beryl Reid) is an outrageously wealthy medium with her own manservant, Shadwell (George Sanders in his last film role).  Tom’s father disappeared years ago, conducting some kind of ritual to learn the secret of eternal life, and Tom wants to succeed where his dad failed, leading to one of the best frog-focused, psychedelic movie freak outs of all time.  Tom learns the secret – kill yourself believing you really will come back, and eternal life is yours.  And after Tom’s miraculous resurrection that’s basically what the gang does over the course of the movie!

After the whole gang is undead, minus an unbeliever and Tom’s girlfriend Abby (Mary Larkin), The Living Dead rampage through their little town, alternately causing silly mishaps and straight up murdering people… including an infant (we assume).  The violence is all pretty tame, but the practical, low budget stunt work has become legendary.  Tom eventually confides in his mother that he wants to take the chaos international and destroy… the authorities?  The police?  Squares?  It’s all pretty vague, but the silly, murderous fun gets a lot more sinister, especially once Tom decides wet blanket Abby needs to die – by her own hands or the gang’s.  It all builds to a remarkably atmospheric finish that I won’t spoil here.

Arrow Video, located in the UK but now offering many titles for US release as well, have really become The Criterion Collection of weird and shocking films, offering a pristine print of the movie that preserves some of that film grain we all love, plus a host of featurettes, as well as a booklet with essays on “Psychomania’s” legacy, Sanders, and director Don Sharp.  The cast is mostly unimpressed or perplexed by the film’s longevity (which honestly gets a bit tiresome), but fondly remember Sanders, who would kill himself at the age of 65 before the film’s release – allegedly after seeing a rough cut of the film, but more likely from the onset of dementia and a lifetime of depression.  The featurettes on the stuntmen of the film and the distinctive leather style of the gang are the real highlights, especially for those pulled in by the distinct aesthetic of early 70s outlaw culture.

In short, “Psychomania” is the type of movie you’d hope to stumble across in a late night screening or VHS dub in an earlier era.  In the parlance of genre hero Michael J. Weldon, “Psychomania” is a classic “Psychotronic” movie – a mishmash of genre weirdness that may not be “great” filmmaking, but is certainly a lot more fun than most movies in the local theater.  With internet streaming and rental, online retailers, brick and mortar (where you can still find it) and labels like Arrow Video putting out beautiful, collectible editions of movies like “Psychomania” on a weekly basis, there’s more weirdness to discover out there than ever before.