Devils Advocates Books

These days it takes a very special vampire movie to stand out. Like Twilight , the Swedish film Let the Right One In is a love story between a human and a vampire but there the resemblance ends. Let the Right One In is not a romantic fantasy but combines the supernatural with social realism. Set on a housing estate in the suburbs of Stockholm in the early 1980s, it's the story of Oskar, a lonely, bullied child, who makes friends with Eli, the girl in the next apartment. 'Oskar, I'm not a girl,' she tells him and she's not kidding. They forge a relationship which is oddly innocent yet disturbing, two outsiders against the rest of the world. But one of these outsiders is, effectively, a serial killer. While Let the Right One In is startlingly original, it nevertheless couldn't have existed without the near century of vampire cinema that preceded it. Acclaimed film critic and horror novelist Anne Billson looks at how it has drawn from, and wrung new twists on, such classics as Nosferatu (1922), how vampire cinema has already flirted with social realism in films like Near Dark (1987) and how vampire mythology adapts itself to the modern world.

Witchfinder General (1968), known as The Conqueror Worm in America, was directed by Michael Reeves and occupies a unique place in British cinema. Equally praised and vilified, the film fictionalizes the exploits of Matthew Hopkins, a prolific, real-life "witch hunter," during the English Civil War. For critic Mark Kermode, the release proved to be "the single most significant horror film produced in the United Kingdom in the 1960s," while playwright Alan Bennett called the work "the most persistently sadistic and rotten film I've ever seen." Steadily gaining a cult reputation, unimpeded by the director's death just months after the film's release, the film is now treated as a landmark, though problematic, accomplishment, as it exists in a number of recut, retitled, and rescored versions. This in-depth study positions the film within the history of horror and discusses its importance as a British and heritage film. It also considers the inheritance of Hopkins, the script's relationship to the novel by Ronald Bassett, and the iconic persona of the film's star, Vincent Price. Ian Cooper conducts close textual readings of specific scenes and explores the film's various contexts, from the creation of the X certificate and the tradition of Hammer gothic, to the influence on Ken Russell's The Devils (1971) and the "torture porn" of twenty-first-century horror.

Like all game changers within the horror genre, SAW was an independent success, a low-budget champion that flourished without the patronage of a big studio. Not bad for the most successful horror franchise ever, which has spawned subsidiary media and masses of merchandise, including a theme park rollercoaster ride. What is it about SAW that attracted such a following? In his contribution to the "Devil's Advocates" series, Ben Poole considers the SAW phenomenon from all aspects of film and media studies – from its generic pedigree in both literature and film, to the visceral audience pleasures ("what would I do?") of the text, to the contrasting representations of men and women and the film's implicit criticism of masculinity.

The story of an all-female caving expedition gone horribly wrong, The Descent (2005) is arguably the best of the mid-2000s horror entries to return verve and intensity to the genre. Unlike its peers ( Saw [2004], Hostel [2011], etc.), The Descent was both commercially and critically popular, providing a genuine version of what other films could only produce as pastiche. For Mark Kermode, writing in the Observer , it was "one of the best British horror films of recent years," and Derek Elley in Variety described it as "an object lesson in making a tightly-budgeted, no-star horror pic." Time Out 's critic praised "this fiercely entertaining British horror movie;" while Rolling Stone 's Peter Travers warned prospective viewers to "prepare to be scared senseless." Emphasizing female characters and camaraderie, The Descent is an ideal springboard for discussing underexplored horror themes: the genre's engagement with the lure of the archaic; the idea of birth as the foundational human trauma and its implications for horror film criticism; and the use of provisional worldviews, or "rubber realities," in horror.

Consigned to the deep freeze of critical and commercial reception upon its release in 1982, The Thing has bounced back spectacularly to become one of the most highly regarded productions from the 1980s 'Body Horror' cycle of films, experiencing a wholesale and detailed reappraisal that has secured its place in the pantheon of modern cinematic horror. Thirty years on, and with a recent prequel reigniting interest, Jez Conolly looks back to the film's antecedents and to the changing nature of its reception and the work that it has influenced. The themes discussed include the significance of The Thing 's subversive antipodal environment, the role that the film has played in the corruption of the onscreen monstrous form, the qualities that make it an exemplar of the director's work and the relevance of its legendary visual effects despite the advent of CGI. Topped and tailed by a full plot breakdown and an appreciation of its notoriously downbeat ending, this exploration of the events at US Outpost 31 in the winter of 1982 captures The Thing 's sub-zero terror in all its gory glory.

Despite its reputation as one of the greatest and most influential of all horror films, there is surprisingly little literature dedicated to Mario Bava's Black Sunday (1960), and this contribution to the Devil's Advocates series is the first single book dedicated to it. Martyn Conterio places the film in the historical context of being one of the first sound Italian horror films and how its success kick-started the Italian horror boom. The author considers the particularly Italian perspective on the gothic that the film pioneered and its fresh and pioneering approach to horror tropes such as the vampire and the witch and considers how the casting of British 'Scream Queen' Barbara Steele was crucial to the film's effectiveness and success.

Few films have had the influence and impact of The Blair Witch Project (1999). Its arrival was a horror cinema palette cleanser after a decade of serial killers and postmodern intertextuality, a bare bones 'found footage' trend setter. In this Devil's Advocate, Peter Turner tells the story of the film from his conception and production then provides a unique analysis of the techniques used, their appeal to audiences and the themes that helped make the film such an international hit, including the pionerring internet marketing.

Critics abhorred it, audiences loved it, and Hammer executives where thrilled with the box office returns: The Curse of Frankenstein was big business. The 1957 film is the first to bring together in a horror movie the 'unholy two', Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, together with the Hammer company, and director Terence Fisher, combinations now legendary among horror fans. In his Devil's Advocate, Marcus Harmes goes back to where the Hammer horror production started, looking at the film from a variety of perspectives: as a loose literaryadaptation of Mary Shelley's novel; as a film that had, for legal reasons, to avoid adapting from James Whale's 1931 film for Universal Pictures; and as one which found immediate sources of inspiration in the Gainsborough bodice rippers of the 1940s and the poverty row horrors of the 1950s. Later Hammer horrors may have consolidated the reputation of the company and the stars, but these works had their starting point in the creative and commercial choices made by the team behind The Curse of Frankenstein . In the film sparks fly, new life is created and horrors unleashed but the film itself was a jolt to 1950s cinema going that has never been entirely surpassed.

Released a matter of days after the end of the Second World War and a dozen years ahead of the first full-blooded Hammer Horror, the Ealing Studios horror anthology film Dead of Night featured contributions from some of the finest directors, writers and technicians ever to work in British film. Since its release it has become evermore widely regarded as a keystone in the architecture of horror cinema, both nationally and internationally, yet for a film that packs such a reputation this is the first time a single book has been dedicated to its analysis. Beginning with a brief plot précis 'road map' in order to aid navigation through the film's stories, there follows a discussion of Dead of Night 's individual stories, including its frame tale ('Linking Narrative'), a consideration of the potency of stillness and the suspension of time as devices for eliciting goose bumps, an appraisal of the film in relation to the very English tradition of the festive ghost story, and an analysis of the British post-war male gender crisis embodied by a number of the film's protagonists. The book includes a selection of rarely seen pre-production designs produced by the film's acclaimed production designer, Michael Relph.

As one of the most globally recognisable instances of 20th century Eurohorror, Dario Argento's Suspiria (1976) is poetic, chaotic, and intriguing. The cult reputation of Argento's baroque nightmare is reflected in the critical praise it continues to receive almost 40 years after its original release, and it appears regularly on lists of the greatest horror films ever. For fans and critics alike, Suspiria is as mesmerising as it is impenetrable: the impact of Argento's notorious disinterest in matters of plot and characterisation combines with Suspiria's aggressive stylistic hyperactivity to render it a movie that needs to be experienced through the body as much as through emotion or the intellect. For its many fans, Suspiria is synonymous with European horror more broadly, and Argento himself is by far the most famous of all the Italian horror directors. If there was any doubt of his status as one of the great horror auteurs, Argento's international reputation was solidified well beyond the realms of cult fandom in the 1990s with retrospectives at both the American Museum of the Moving Image and the British Film Institute. This book considers the complex ways that Argento weaves together light, sound and cinema history to construct one of the most breathtaking horror movies of all time, a film as fascinating as it is ultimately unfathomable.

Cannibal Holocaust is one of the most controversial horror films ever made. Despite not achieving huge success when it was first released, the Italian production found an audience on home video in the 1980s and became a 'must-see' for connoisseurs of extreme cinema. Indeed, Cannibal Holocaust's foremost legacy is in the United Kingdom, where it obtained its reputation as one of the most harrowing and offensive 'video nasties' – a term used to refer to a group of films deemed to be 'obscene' by the Department of Public Prosecutions. However, as the years have progressed, Cannibal Holocaust has been re-evaluated, mainly as the forefather of the 'found footage' film, and recent home video re-releases have added some valuable perspective to the onscreen violence with extensive cast and crew interviews. What is missing from this contemporary activity is contextualization of Cannibal Holocaust's style, affirmation and discussion of its locations and any extensive discourse about its representation of third world inhabitants (i.e. as 'primitives'). In addition, and also amiss from previous dialogue on the production, is that Cannibal Holocaust can be seen as one of the key post-Vietnam films. It is the spectre of war – and an explicit warning about Western involvement in civil conflict – which progresses Deodato's story of jungle adventurers in peril. By approaching the film from a more formalist position, this Devil's Advocate provides an insightful discussion of this groundbreaking film.

Takashi Shimizu's Ju-on franchise was a principal instigator in the rise of contemporary Japanese horror and its international popularity at the turn of the millennium. Following the success of Hideo Nakata's Ringu (1998), the first cinematic release of Ju-on: The Grudge in 2002 crystallized Japanese horror's rise to prominence and outlined the new decade's thematic interest in supernatural technology and fear of contagions, while skillfully navigating domestic social concerns, such as Japan's growing elderly population and domestic violence. This Devil's Advocate explores the production roots of Ju-on The Grudge , followed by a critical reading of the film that highlights its essential themes and motifs, in addition to a section on cultural influences, before concluding with a section on Shimizu's continued involvement with the Ju-on franchise and its ongoing legacy. The book serves as an excellent primer for readers without prior knowledge of Japanese horror or the Ju-on film cycle, while providing fresh perspectives on the film that makes it equally appealing to J-horror aficionados.

Why write about Roman Polanski's Macbeth (1971) as part of a series of books dedicated to the classics of the horror movie genre? Because, Rebekah Owens argues, just as Banquo in Polanski's film holds up a series of mirrors that reflect images of his successors that trace back to his own son Fleance, so subsequent milestones in the genre show their lineage to this work, their originator. Polanski had previously made Repulsion (1965) and Rosemary's Baby (1968), so he was fully aware of the conventions of the horror genre and this film provides clues to his own horror lexicon. This book demonstrates how Macbeth can be read as part of the British Folk tradition, strengthening the reading of the film as a horror movie in its own right through its links to The Wicker Man (1973), Blood on Satan's Claw (1971) and Witchfinder General (1968) then argues the case for its recognition as a horror movie even further, by connecting it to the later American horror classics, such as Halloween (1978). It also explores the popular associations made between the film and Polanski's own life, arguing that they endorse the view of the film as a horror. This book represents the first serious attempt to regard Polanski's Macbeth as a horror film in its own right, and not exclusively as one of a multitude of ongoing Shakespeare film adaptations.

Taking a fresh look at The Shining (1980), this book situates the film within the history of the horror genre and examines its rightful status as one of the greatest horror movies ever made. It explores how Stanley Kubrick's filmmaking style, use of dark humor, and ambiguous approach to supernatural storytelling complements generic conventions, and it analyzes the effective choices made in adapting King's book for the screen―stripping the novel's backstory, rejecting its clear explanations of the Overlook Hotel's hauntings, and emphasizing the strained relationships of the Torrance family. The fractured family unit and patriarchal terror of Kubrick's film, alongside its allusions to issues of gender, race, and class, connect it to themes prevalent in horror cinema by the end of the 1970s, and are shown to offer a critique of American society that chimed with the era's political climate as well as its genre trends. The film's impact on horror cinema and broader pop culture is ever apparent, with homages in everything from Toy Story to American Horror Story . The Shining showed that popular, commercial horror films could be smart, artistic, and original.

Nicolas Roeg's Don't Look Now (1973) has been called "a ghost story for adults." Certainly, in contrast to the more explicitly violent and bloodthirsty horror films of the 1970s, Don't Look Now seems of an entirely different order. Yet this supernaturally inflected tale of a child's accidental drowning, and her parents' desperate simultaneous recoil from her death and pursuit of her ghost, Don't Look Now is horrific at every turn. This book argues for it as a particular kind of horror film, one which depends utterly on the narrative of trauma―on the horror of unknowing, of seeing too late, and of the failures of paternal authority and responsibility. Jessica Gildersleeve positions Don't Look Now within a discourse of midcentury anxiety narratives primarily existing in literary texts. In this context, it represents a cross over or a hinge between literature and film of the 1970s, and the ways in which the women's ghost story or uncanny story turns the horror film into a cultural commentary on the failures of the modern family.

Frenzy (1972) was Alfred Hitchcock's penultimate film, and arguably one of his most misunderstood and neglected. Whereas even Psycho (1960) did eventually become respectable – indeed, it's a good contender for the most admired of the Master's films - Frenzy still remains problematic for many. While Raymond De Foery makes his feelings clear in the title of his book, Alfred Hitchcock's Frenzy: The Last Masterpiece , Hitchcock's controversial biographer Donald Spoto calls the film "repulsive" and "a closed and coldly negative vision of human possibility". Frenzy is perhaps Hitchcock's most nakedly autobiographical film, representing both a comeback and farewell to the city of his birth. But it started out as a very different kind of project. This Devil's Advocate discusses the evolution of the film, its production, reception, and place in Hitchcock's oeuvre, as well as its status as a key film of "sleazy Seventies" British cinema.

Somewhat overlooked upon its initial release in 1995, John Carpenter's In the Mouth of Madness has since developed a healthy cult reputation. But far more than simply a fan favorite, this closing installment of the acclaimed director's self-described "apocalypse trilogy" (following The Thing and Prince Of Darkness ) stands today as one of his most thematically complex and stylistically audacious pieces of work. The story of an insurance investigator drawn into the supposedly fictional universe of a best-selling horror novelist, the film is an extension of many recurring themes found in Carpenter's filmography (the end of the world, the loss of free will, a distrust of mass industry and global corporations, the cataclysmic resurgence of ancient evil), as well as an affectionate homage to the works of H. P. Lovecraft (and horror literature more broadly) and a self-reflexive celebration of the horror genre that predates the Scream -inspired postmodernist boom of late-'90s genre cinema. While numerous books and countless academic essays have been written about Carpenter's work, surprisingly little has focused exclusively on In the Mouth of Madness, a film which feels more prescient, more essential, and more daringly complex than ever. This book seeks to redress this imbalance, at last positioning this overlooked masterpiece as essential Carpenter.

When Candyman was released in 1992, Roger Ebert gave it his thumbs up, remarking that the film was “scaring him with ideas and gore, rather than just gore.” Indeed, Candyman is almost unique in 1990s horror cinema in that it tackles its sociopolitical themes head on. As critic Kirsten Moana Thompson has remarked, Candyman is "the return of the repressed as national allegory": the film’s hook-handed killer of urban legend embodies a history of racism, miscegenation, lynching, and slavery, "the taboo secrets of America’s past and present." In this book, Jon Towlson considers how Candyman might be read both as a "return of the repressed" during the George H. W. Bush era, and as an example of nineties neoconservative horror. He traces the project’s development from its origins as a Clive Barker short story ("The Forbidden"); discusses the importance of its gritty real-life Cabrini-Green setting; and analyzes the film’s appropriation (and interrogation) of urban myth. The two official sequels ( Candyman: Farewell to the Flesh [1995] and Candyman: Day of the Dead [1999]) are also considered, plus a number of other urban myth-inspired horror movies such as Bloody Mary (2006) and films in the Urban Legend franchise. The book features an in-depth interview with Candyman’ s writer-director Bernard Rose.

Daughters of Darkness (1971) is a vampire film like no other. Heralded as psychological high-Gothic cinema, loved for its art-house and erotic flavors, Harry Kümel's 1971 cult classic is unwrapped in intricate detail by writer Kat Ellinger to unravel the many mysteries surrounding just what makes it so appealing. This book, as part of the Devil’s Advocates series, examines the film in the context of its peers and contemporaries, in order to argue its place an important evolutionary link in the chain of female vampire cinema. The text also explores the film's association with fairy tales, the Gothic genre, and fantastic tradition, as well as delving into aspects of the legend of Countess Bathory, traditional vampire lore, and much more. The book contains new and exclusive interviews with director Harry Kümel and actress and star Danielle Ouimet.

Amid a recent resurgence in horror films, David Robert Mitchell’s It Follows stands out as a particularly bold entry, a horror fan’s dream come true that sparked a renewed creativity. Pulling a robust 97% on Rotten Tomatoes, It Follows was hailed as a “teen movie you’ve never seen before,” a “creepy, mesmerizing exercise in minimalist horror,” “the best horror film in years,” and simply, “so damn good.” Mitchell uses a variety of approaches to reinvent genre bromides while simultaneously embracing and challenging tropes that audiences and filmmakers rely on a little too heavily. It Follows is one of the best because it is one of the most unique. In this Devil’s Advocate, Joshua Grimm focuses on how this film helped reinvent the rules of a horror movie, particularly along the lines of genre, style, sex, and gender.

It's not often that a remake outshines its original but David Cronenberg's "reimagining" of The Fly (1986) is one of those rare exceptions. Equal parts horror, science fiction, and romance, The Fly takes the premise of its 1958 original―a man unintentionally fusing with a housefly during an experiment in teleportation―and reinterprets the plot as a gradual cellular metamorphosis between these two organisms. This book teases out the intricate DNA of The Fly and how it represents the personalities of many authors, including a distinguished history of Man-as-God tales stretching back to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1818). Drawing from interviews with cast, crew, film commentators, and other filmmakers, Emma Westwood interlaces the "making of" travails of The Fly with why it is one of the most important examples of master storytelling ever committed to screen.

Wes Craven's Scream (1996) emerged at the point where the early eighties American slasher cycle had effectively morphed into the post- Fatal Attraction trend for Hollywood thrillers that incorporated key slasher movie tropes. Scream emerged as a spiritual successor to Wes Craven's unpopular but critically praised previous film New Nightmare (1994), which evolved from his frustration at having lost creative control over his most popular creation, Freddy Krueger, and rebirthed the character in a postmodern context. Scream appropriates many of the concepts, conceits, and in-jokes inherent in New Nightmare , albeit in a much more commercial context that did not alienate teenage audiences who were not around to see the movies that were being referenced. This Devil's Advocate offers a full exploration of Scream , including its structure, its many reference points (such as the prominent use of Halloween as a kind of sacred text), its marketing ("the new thriller from Wes Craven" – not a horror film), and legacy for horror cinema in the new millennium.

Undoubtedly the most notorious title in director Ken Russell’s controversial filmography, The Devils (1973) caused a real furor on its initial theatrical release, only to largely disappear for many years. This Devil’s Advocate considers the film’s historical context, as the timing of the first appearance of The Devils is of particular importance, its authorship and adaptation (Russell’s auteur reputation aside, the screenplay is based on John Whiting’s 1961 play of the same name, which was in turn based on Aldous Huxley’s 1952 book The Devils of Loudun ), and its generic hybridity. Darren Arnold goes on to examine the themes prevalent in the film―this is the only film of Russell’s which the director considered to be political―and considers the representation of gender and sexuality, gender fluidity, and how sex and religion clash to interesting and controversial effect. He concludes by revisiting the film’s censorship travails and the various versions of The Devils that have appeared on both big and small screens, and the film’s legacy and influence.

Fritz Lang’s first sound feature, M (1931), is one of the earliest serial killer films in cinema history and laid the foundation for future horror movies and thrillers, particularly those with a disturbed killer as protagonist. Peter Lorre’s child killer, Hans Beckert, is presented as monstrous, yet sympathetic, building on themes presented in the earlier German Expressionist horror films like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and The Hands of Orlac . Lang eerily foreshadowed the rising fascist horrors in German society, and transforms his cinematic Berlin into a place of urban terror and paranoia. Samm Deighan explores the way Lang uses horror and thriller tropes in M , particularly in terms of how it functions as a bridge between German Expressionism and Hollywood’s growing fixation on sympathetic killers in the ‘40s. The book also examines how Lang made use of developments within in forensic science and the criminal justice system to portray a somewhat realistic serial killer on screen for the first time, at once capturing how society in the ‘30s and ‘40s viewed such individuals and their crimes and shaping how they would be portrayed on screen in the horror films to come.

Shivers (1975) was David Cronenberg’s first commercial feature and his first horror film. In a modern apartment block, a scientific project to unleash the id results in the equation of passion with contagion and predation. Because the writer-director’s imaginative landscape arrived in the genre fully formed, the unique forms of this début have often been overlooked or mistaken for shortcomings. Cronenberg’s most comedic film until Map to the Stars , Shivers is also his most spectacularly unnerving, throwing more images of extreme behavior at us than any of his subsequent films; it remains, with Crash , his most disquieting and transgressive film to date. Luke Aspell’s analysis addresses all channels of communication available to the 35mm sync-sound narrative feature, including shot composition, lighting, cinematographic texture, sound, the use of stock music, editing, costume, makeup, optical work, the screenplay, the casting, and the direction of the actors. Attending to form the better to see the film in its context, this tour of Shivers as “cognitive territory” takes in architecture, cultural context, critical reception, and artistic legacy.

Mario Bava’s Blood and Black Lace (1964) is a legendary title, and is commonly considered as the archetypal giallo. A murder mystery about a faceless and menacing killer stalking the premises of a luxurious fashion house in Rome, Blood and Black Lace set the rules for the genre: a masked, black-gloved killer, an emphasis on graphic violence, elaborate and suspenseful murder sequences. But Blood and Black Lace is first and foremost an exquisitely stylish film, full of gorgeous color schemes, elegant camerawork, and surrealistic imagery, testimony of Bava’s mastery and his status as an innovator within popular cinema. This book recollects Blood and Black Lace ’s production history, putting it within the context of the Italian film industry of the period and includes plenty of previously unheard-of data. It analyzes its main narrative and stylistic aspects, including the groundbreaking prominence of violence and sadism and its use of color and lighting, as well as Bava’s irreverent approach to genre filmmaking and clever handling of the audience’s expectations by way of irony and pitch-black humor. The book also analyzes Blood and Black Lace ’s place within Bava’s oeuvre, its historical impact on the giallo genre, and its influential status on future filmmakers.

Robert Eggers' The Witch (2015) is one of the most critically acclaimed horror films of recent years, praised as a genre film of unusual depth which eschews jump scares in favour of a gradually and steadily building tension. Set in newly colonized New England in the early seventeenth century, the film’s deep historical and mythological background, as well as its complicated and interlocking character arcs, make for a film whose viewers will be well served by this Devil’s Advocate, the first stand-alone critical study of the film. As well as providing the historical and religious background necessary for a fuller appreciation, including an insight into the Puritan movement in New England Brandon Grafius situates the film within a number of horror sub-genres (such as folk horror) as well as its other literary and folkloric influences.

Reviled on its release, Peeping Tom (1960) all-but ended the career of director Michael Powell, previously one of Britain's most revered filmmakers. The story of a murderous cameraman and his compulsion to record his killings, Powell's film stunned the same critics who had acclaimed him for the work he'd made with writer-producer Emeric Pressburger ( The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp , 1943; A Matter of Life and Death , 1946), resulting in the film falling out of circulation almost as soon as it was released. It took the 1970s 'Movie Brat' generation to rehabilitate the director, and the film, which is now regarded as a masterpiece. In this Devil's Advocate, published to coincide with the film's 60th anniversary, Kiri Walden charts the origins, production and devastating critical reception of Peeping Tom , comparing it to the treatment meted out to its contemporary horror classic, Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho (1960).

In the fading atmosphere of the New Hollywood era, William Friedkin – the wunderkind director with an Academy Award for his cop drama, The French Connection (1971) who then scored an even bigger success with The Exorcist (1973) – began work on what would prove to be the most controversial film of his career: Cruising (1980). In the process he established a template for a sub-genre, the serial killer thriller, that would thrive long after his film had left theatres, having caused widespread offence among the very audience he'd hoped to appeal to, via a campaign mobilised by the counter-culture press. As such, Cruising can be read as a bitter farewell to the seventies and its cinema and industry. This Devil's Advocate dives deep into the phenomenon that is Cruising , examining its creative context and its protagonists, as well as examining its ongoing popularity as it turns 40 in 2020.

Roman Polanski’s Repulsion (1965), starring Catherine Deneuve as a repressed and tormented manicurist, is a gripping, visually inventive descent into paranoia and self-destructive alienation. Emblematic of recurrent Polanski motifs, evinced in his student short films, in his striking debut feature, Knife in the Water (1962), and in subsequent features like Death and the Maiden (1994), Repulsion is a tour de force examination of crippling anxiety and the sinister potency of inanimate objects. Repulsion amplifies the realm of psychological horror by evoking the seething impact of increasing delusion, literal and figurative seclusion, and the consequences of one woman’s foreboding sensitivity to the unsettling world that surrounds her. This Devil’s Advocate considers Repulsion within the context of familiar horror tropes and the prevailing qualities of Polanski’s broader oeuvre. Drawing on the research of Sigmund Freud, Julia Kristeva, Barbara Creed and others, concerning issues of abjection, the ‘monstrous-feminine’, and the psychology of horror spectatorship, this text focuses on central themes of isolation, sexuality and setting. Bookended by introductory biographical details and concluding with a roundup of the film’s reception, Jeremy Carr situates Repulsion within the horror genre at large as well as its various off-shoots, such as the rape/revenge subgenre. There is also an analysis of the film’s technical qualities, from its sound design to its brilliantly low-key special effects, all of which define the film as Polanski’s most audaciously stylish realisation of dread and unease.

Widely regarded as one of the foundational 'Unholy Trinity' of folk horror film, The Blood on Satan's Claw (1971) has been comparatively over-shadowed, if not maligned, when compared to Witchfinder General (1968) and The Wicker Man (1973). While those horror bedfellows are now accepted as classics of British cinema, Piers Haggard's film remains undervalued, ironically so, given that it was Haggard who coined the term 'folk horror' in relation to his film. In this Devil's Advocate, David Evans-Powell explores the place of the film in the wider context of the folk horror sub-genre; its use of a seventeenth-century setting (which it shares with contemporaries such as Witchfinder General and Cry of the Banshee ) in contrast to the generic nineteenth-century locales of Hammer; the influences of contemporary counter-culture and youth movement on the film; the importance of localism and landscape; and the film as an expression of a wider contemporary crisis in English identity (which can also be perceived in Witchfinder General , and in contemporary TV serials such as Penda's Fen ).

There is something weird and eerie going on in the oneiric Iranian ghost-town Bad City. A mysterious female vampire, clad in a long-black veil, imbued with occult and erotic power, has newly arrived in town and is summarily dispensing with its unsavory characters. Through a chance encounter in a night of luminal darkness, an eternally dark romance begins – baptized in love’s blood. Shot in dazzling anamorphic black and white cinematography and accompanied with an intoxicating and mesmeric soundtrack, Ana Lily Amirpour’s debut feature film A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night (2014), was an instant popular and critical success. Dubbed ‘the first Iranian vampire western’ the genre-bending film is a pastiche of genres such as vampire cinema, gothic and horror films, spaghetti westerns, graphic novels, and Iranian cinema; yet the film stands as a new vampire fairy-tale with a unique style all its own. The first full-length study dedicated to the film since its release, this book in the Devil’s Advocate series provides a unique approach to the film situated within three theoretical coordinates: the vampire genre, psychoanalytic (film) theory and German Idealism.

In 2013 an apparently simple, back-to-basics scary movie transformed horror cinema for the rest of the decade. Based on the allegedly true story of the Perron family haunting and subsequent investigation by ghost hunters Ed and Lorraine Warren, The Conjuring has to-date spawned six sequels and prequels, making up a Conjuring ‘universe’ that has taken over a billion dollars around the world. The New York Times called The Conjuring ‘a fantastically effective haunted-house movie’ which, following his earlier film Insidious , established director James Wan as a force in horror cinema. In this Devil’s Advocates, horror scholar Kevin Wetmore examines what elements in the film are truly terrifying, how the filmmakers’ claims of being based on a true story hold up against the actual history of the haunting and the Warrens, and the relationship between The Conjuring and the many films in its universe. Along the way this book also considers how games, toys and dolls play an important role in the series, offers a critique of gender roles in the films, and asks the question, what is actually ‘conjured’ in The Conjuring ? The delightful result is an in-depth, close reading of a film that uses standard horror tropes masterfully to create a truly scary film.

Sam Raimi’s The Evil Dead (1981) is one of the most inventive and energetic horror movies of the last 40 years. Released during a period in which the stalk-and-slash cycle had blunted the horror genre of much of its creative edge, Raimi’s debut feature transcends its small budget and limited resources to deliver a phantasmagoric roller-coaster ride, a wildly absurd and surreal assault on the senses. Still original enough to stand on its own and be considered as a genre classic, this book will explain its long-lasting appeal and impact. After detailing the unique circumstances of its origin, Lloyd Haynes goes on to analyse key aspects of the film’s abiding success. The Evil Dead is one of a number of horror films which locate their terrors in a single setting and limited time frame. Haynes argues that it creates a ‘bad dream’ effect in which the nightmare is never-ending and increasingly horrific, and how the cabin-in-the-woods location is also a fine example of the ‘bad place’ motif which stretches back to the Gothic novels of the 18th century. The book goes on to consider what character traits Ash Williams, The Evil Dead ’s ‘macho’ male hero, shares with Carol Clover’s ‘Final Girl’ model and how effective he is as a ‘Final Guy’. Finally, it explores the critical approaches to the film, in particular its notorious reputation in Britain as a ‘video nasty’.

Since its release at the mid-point of the 1980s American horror boom, Stuart Gordon’s Re-Animator (1985) has endured as one of the most beloved cult horror films of that era. Greeted by enthusiastic early reviews, Re-Animator has maintained a spot at the periphery of the classic horror film canon. While Re-Animator has not entirely gone without critical attention, it has often been overshadowed in horror studies by more familiar titles from the period. Eddie Falvey’s book, which represents the first book-length study of Re-Animator , repositions it as one of the most significant American horror films of its era. For Falvey, Re-Animator sits at the intersection of various developments that were taking place within the context of 1980s American horror production. He uses Re-Animator to explore the rise and fall of Charles Band’s Empire Pictures, the revival of the mad science sub-genre, the emergent popularity of both gore aesthetics and horror-comedies, as well as a new appetite for the works of H.P. Lovecraft in adaptation. Falvey also tracks the film's legacies, observing not only how Re-Animator ’s success gave rise to a new Lovecraftian cycle fronted by Stuart Gordon, but also how its cult status has continued to grow, marked by sequels, spin-offs, parodies and re-releases. As such, Falvey's book promises to be a book both about Re-Animator itself and about the various contexts that birthed it and continue to reflect its influence.

Prevenge (2016) is an entertainingly dark 21st-century horror movie detailing the serial killing journey of heavily pregnant Ruth. It’s a cleverly crafted narrative full of stark social commentary, traversing the delicate line between comedy and tragedy by fusing together a kitchen sink approach with a supernatural revenge plot. This book, as part of the Devil’s Advocates series, examines how the film deconstructs the slasher mythology and the sexism therein, and upends stereotypical representations of the ‘weak’ woman and ‘delicate’ mother. With new exclusive input from writer, director and star Alice Lowe, the text also looks at the production’s inception and development, assesses its debts to cult British cinema, and inspects its umbilical connections to Rosemary’s Baby , Alien , Village of the Damned and many other ‘Monstrous Child’ silver screen features.

This Devil’s Advocate explores the cinematic wonders of Brian Desmond Hurst’s much loved 1951 adaptation of A Christmas Carol , Scrooge , through the prism of horror cinema, arguing that the film has less in common with cosy festive tradition than it does with terror cinema like James Whale’s Bride of Frankenstein , Robert Weine’s The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari , and F.W. Murnau’s Faust . Beginning with Charles Dickens himself, a prolific writer of ghost stories, with A Christmas Carol being but one of many, Colin Fleming then considers earlier cinematic adaptations including 1935’s folk-horror-like Scrooge , before offering a full account of the Hurst/Sim version, stressing what must always be kept at the forefront of our minds: this is a ghost story .

Directed by Richard Donner and written by David Seltzer, The Omen (1976) is perhaps the best in the devil-child cycle of movies that followed in the wake of Rosemary’s Baby and The Exorcist . Released to a highly suggestible public, The Omen became a major commercial success, in no small part due to an elaborate pre-sell campaign that played and preyed on apocalyptic fears and a renewed belief in the Devil and the supernatural. Since polarising critics and religious groups upon its release, The Omen has earned its place in the horror film canon. It’s a film that works on different levels, is imbued with nuance, ambiguity and subtext, and is open to opposing interpretations. Reflecting the film’s cultural impact and legacy, the name ‘Damien’ has since become a pop culture byword for an evil child. Adrian Schober’s Devil’s Advocate entry covers the genesis, authorship, production history, marketing and reception of The Omen , before going on to examine the overarching theme of paranoia that drives the narrative: paranoia about the 'end times'; paranoia about government and conspiracy; paranoia about child rearing (especially, if one strips away the layer of Satanism); and paranoia about imagined threats to the right-wing Establishment from liberal and post-countercultural forces of the 1970s.

Snuff (1976) occupies a unique place in cinematic history, as the first commercially successful film to capitalise upon the myth of the ‘snuff’ movie. By blending cinema verité styling with a media moral panic, savvy producer Allan Shackleton’s blending of a long-forgotten exploitation film with a newly filmed bloody, if unconvincing conclusion, only served to consolidate the belief that somewhere, at some time, someone was killed on camera in an attack that was as much about the sexual gratification of the film’s intended audience, as it was about the commercial rewards for those producing the film. In the years since its release, the film has been routinely cited as ‘evidence’ of the snuff movie’s existence, contributing to a cultural history that exists outside of the film. This book explores the production, distribution and exhibition of the film Snuff , alongside that cultural history, considering how a scarcely seen exploitation film contributed to a popular understanding of the snuff movie. It assesses the cultural, cinematic and political legacy of the film and asks whether the established definition of what might constitute a snuff movie, that was defined 45 years ago, is sufficient in an attention economy that is based upon participatory culture.

A cornerstone of the resurgence in Spanish horror cinema, [REC] (2007) is a propulsive single-location ‘found-footage’ film in which a news reporter and her cameraman investigate an incident at a Barcelona apartment building. Beginning with a discussion of the aesthetic choices of co-directors Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza, Jim Harper’s Devil’s Advocate assesses the various political and social themes present in [REC] , in particular the range of human responses to crisis situations and the threat of violence. He goes on to consider the influences upon [REC] – especially George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968), the cornerstone of the modern zombie movie, and Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later (2002), the film that kick-started the 21st century zombie boom – before offering a brief history of Spanish horror, illustrating the continuity between the first true Spanish horror film in 1962, the flourishing of Spanish gothic horror in the 1960s and ’70s, the barren period of the 1980s, and the subsequent resurrection epitomized by [REC] . Harper then goes on to consider the American remakes (2008 and 2011) as well subsequent emergence of the international horror franchise – [REC] 2 (2009), [REC] 3: Genesis (2012) and [REC] 4: Apocalypse (2014) – addressing the different concerns and themes of the sequels.