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| A still from Hӓxan (1922) |
Ah yes, blog entry number one: it’s like the first day of class, where you nervously introduce yourself to your equally tense classmates, all in the spirit of educational brotherhood. As with most of my class introductions, I’m struggling with what to say. I can debate movies with little difficulty, yet I find it difficult to quickly sum up even the minute details about my major, minor, favorite ice cream, job motivations, what have you. I’ve always been slow to warm up to new things, but once I do, I get it done, so to speak. So in the spirit of this assignment, allow me to introduce myself and with any luck, I’ll be spouting off about the very thing that brought you here to begin with: films!
I’m Billy Goodheart and I’m a senior in my final semester at Rider University in Lawrenceville, New Jersey. I’m studying English with a concentration on writing, with a minor in Film and Media Studies. I think that you’ll find this blog to be a worthwhile read because I can analyze a movie in the abstract sense as well as examine the technical aspects. I’m fascinated with compelling characters and storylines, innuendos, gender roles, and other traits of films that require a little sleuthing in order to fully appreciate. That’s not to say that I’m a snob who despises so-called “shallow” movies; for every Rashomon I also enjoy a Freddy Got Fingered.
That said, I do enjoy films that are off-kilter, that travel away from the beaten path. Case in point: I recently watched Hӓxan, a Swedish silent film from 1922. Created by Benjamin Christensen, Hӓxan – which is Swedish for “the witch” – is a faux-documentary about the history of witchcraft. Split into seven chapters, the film uses a multitude of artwork, vignettes, and special effects that effectively create one of the most atmospheric and interesting films that I’ve ever seen. Each chapter gives a stand-alone lecture or story about witches: one chapter explains the powers of witches while another reveals – with some gruesome close ups – how to tell if someone is a witch.
Upon its release, Hӓxan was banned and censored in many countries, including the United States, which comes as no surprise considering the movie’s hefty helping of demonic imagery, nudity, possession, and torture. Of course, the horror and naughtiness depicted in Hӓxan generally seems pretty tame by today’s standards, but the visuals can still pack a punch ninety years later. I found myself particularly disturbed by the torture scenes involving an allegedly innocent old woman being interrogated by a cruel inquisitor; the close ups of the woman’s face shown in the stark contrast of black and white made her pleas and eventual confessions seem very convincing and real. Also, the set design and costumes are fantastic and recall imagery from such horror masters as H.P. Lovecraft and Edgar Allen Poe, to name but a few. The special effects are quite sophisticated for the time, as Christensen makes use of camera tricks such as playing film backwards and superimposition so that Hӓxan is especially persuasive in the pursuit of credibility.
I enjoyed the movie so much that I immediately purchased a Criterion copy from my job (I work at a record/movie store). Hӓxan is so utterly unique that I believe every student of film should see it. Further, I think a case can be made that the film should be added to the curriculum of one of Rider’s many film classes. Wink wink, Dr. Lucia.
Normally, I’m very against watching movies prior to the 1960’s because of acting styles, but you have made me interested enough to look up Häxan. I agree with your praises on the film, as from what I’ve seen on clips it is extremely interesting. In fact, I almost feel compelled to re-evaluate my opinion of film years. One of the reasons I thought this film interesting, that you didn’t touch upon, was the fast movements the people and demons made.
ReplyDeleteThe jerky quick movement gives a frantic energy to the film, giving a different kind of horror than current films. Most horror films of the last two decades go with a slow horror where the viewer is held in suspense on whether the main character can or can’t escape. Whereas from the few clips I watched Häxan there wasn’t any notion of escaping, only that horrors will happen regardless. This fast style also seems strange because, as you had mentioned it’s a faux-documentary. Today’s style of documentary films drag on forever, ruining the joy of movie days in high schools everywhere.
The special effects don’t stick out as unfortunate products of their time. One scene where witches fly away from a group of demons and Satan is beautiful in this black and white film. It’s a very simplistic technique that only black and white has the power to convey. In color it would destroy the pure evil tone given to Satan and the demons who are solely in black, the dramatic sky would be lessened with tones of blue, and the witches as anything but white exposures wouldn’t seen as ghastly. This is one of the few times where I feel a black and white film, works perfectly in black and white.
Overall these creepy designs remind of the most terrifying animation sequence in Fantasia, where the devil takes over a town. Since Fantasia was made 20 years later, it’s possible that the eerie animation sequence could have been partially based on Häxan. The way the ghosts fly up out of tombs towards the devil is extremely similar to the way the witches fly from Satan. If anything this makes Häxan quite scary to me, just by the memories of being scared by Fantasia as a little child.