Young Fears 4: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

Each October I like to run a series of Halloween-themed posts on this blog. All this month, I'll be telling anecdotes about things which frightened me while growing up.

For many generations, Disney-produced films have been the approved "safe" fare which parents permit their children to see. Consequently, many of us can point to moments in Disney films as early experiences with terror. Although Disney has cultivated an image as being sanitized family fun, there are disquieting moments to be found.

Sometimes you don't have to go looking them either. Almost every Halloween Disney would air a special program (such as Disney's Halloween Treat) made up of scary clips from various animated shorts & features. The first one which I recall getting a hold on me came from the innocuously-titled The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Irving's story lost quite a bit of its flavour in being translated into Disney, but one thing which it caught perfectly was the depiction of the Headless Horseman himself. Disney's Halloween shows usually only ran the climactic scenes of Ichabod being pursued to a fiery death(?) at the Horseman's hands.

Never mind the ambiguous ending or mitigating circumstances (that is, Ichabod was a bit of a jerk), the Headless Horseman sequence really scared me - the shadows, the laughter, the flaming pumpkin. Even when watched in its original context the moment still works. Spending time in the Wind and the Willows with Basil Rathbone's pleasant voice and then the jocularity which opens the Ichabod Crane portion under Bing Crosby's sonorous bass, all of those happy times finally give way to a terrifying conclusion. And I, like the people of Sleepy Hollow, just knew Ichabod didn't survive - he had been spirited away by the Headless Horseman!

Man, I'm getting out of here.

Young Fears 3: Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein

Each October I like to run a series of Halloween-themed posts on this blog. All this month, I'll be telling anecdotes about things which frightened me while growing up.

Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein is considered to have brought an end to the reign of the Universal Monsters. Although some other memorable monsters followed in the film's wake (ie, the Creatures from the Black Lagoon), the theory is that pairing the monsters with Abbott & Costello either made it impossible for audiences to take them seriously again (the monsters, that is, not Bud & Lou), or it was simply a blatant cash-in product intended to creak one more film out of Universal's horror stars and effects.

What people sometimes forget is - man, this film is scary when you're young! Especially when you have some familiarity with the monsters involved. I spoke yesterday about the impact the Wolf Man had on me because it allowed its own hero to die. If heroes can die, then were Budd & Lou truly in danger from the monsters? The scene where Lou is comically unaware the Wolf Man is stalking him had me on the edge of my seat as a child.

Of course, I also found Abbott & Costello very funny as a child and would eventually see nearly all of their films. But what I remember most about that first late night viewing are the scary scenes; even the animation-derived bat transformations Dracula underwent seemed spooky to me.

Perhaps the strongest effect came from the film's heroine being hypnotized by Dracula. At one moment, Lou looks into her eyes and sees a bat reflected in them. I recall the next morning staring very concernedly at my sister's eyes for similar evidence. She laughed and accidentally spat in my face.

At least I knew she wasn't hypnotized.

Young Fears 2: The Wolf Man

Each October I like to run a series of Halloween-themed posts on this blog. All this month, I'll be telling anecdotes about things which frightened me while growing up.

If I could point to a single horror film which has left an indelible mark on how I approach horror, then the subject would be Universal's The Wolf Man, another film which my parents were gracious enough to let me watch on late night television, little thinking how long it would remain potent in my imagination.

From that first viewing I can still recall the hero beating a wolf with his silver-tipped cane; his transformation, with fur gradually appearing on his legs; the pentagram mysteriously appearing on him; his death at the hands of his own cane; and this memorable poem:

Even a man who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night
May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.

The poem encapsulates the injustice of the hero's dilemma; he is both hero and villain of the film, cursed to become a monster as repayment for having slain a monster. The only way the hero can triumph is for the hero to die; pretty heady material for an impressionable young viewer!

I noted yesterday how the Universal Monster films didn't contain imagery which was - on the face of it - inappropriate for children. These films relied mainly upon atmospheric horror - sensations of menace and dread. It's quite effective on a child and for that reason, I wish I had seen more of them as an impressionable youngster. When I saw films such as House of Dracula, House of Frankenstein or Dracula's Daughter as an adult I would remark to myself: "Nice sets; good costumes; effective makeup; excellent casting" or, in the case of the latter film, "oh, they're right, there is a lesbian subtext." In other words, I have intellectualized the movies.

The Universal Monsters were not meant to be intellectualized. They were fashioned to be crowd-pleasers, seat-warmers, scare-givers and spook shows. My childhood fear of The Wolf Man grants that picture strength even now when I attempt to relive my original sensations. I would agree with anyone that the creature effects in An American Werewolf in London, the Howling or even Dog Soldiers are much more impressive, but I saw those films as an adult - they can never match The Wolf Man's primal experience.

My terror at the transformation scene where Chaney, Jr.'s legs became progressively hairy was easily the most traumatic moment of the picture for me. Because my father had very hairy legs, it actually left me with a fear of my own father (at least during the summer). Further, the transformation of human being into a werewolf in The Wolf Man was my introduction to a type of terror which the internet calls "body horror." I've since learned (and future entries of this series will bear out) that nothing in horror gets under my skin quite like a scene where a person mutates into something else.

On the other hand, I'm no longer afraid when my father wears shorts.

Young Fears 1: Son of Frankenstein

Each October I like to run a series of Halloween-themed posts on this blog. All this month, I'll be telling anecdotes about things which frightened me while growing up.

It seems appropriate to begin this series with the Universal Monsters; after all, so much of the horror genre which has come since those beloved 30s & 40s creatures has been either an homage to or a reaction against the Universal versions. At some point while I was growing up, one of my family's cable channels aired Universal monster films late at night. For some reason, my parents thought it would be okay for me to watch them (I may have been 5 or 6).

Of course, I saw those films under their supervision and was quite glad for it. And certainly, looking back on the series, there's very little in any of the pictures which is too explicit for a child; when it's time for someone to die, the camera is discreet enough to pull away and what carnage is seen tends to be bloodless. For a child, it's often enough that a monster is lumbering around regardless of what he does.

And such is my childhood memory of Son of Frankenstein, third of Universal's Frankenstein series. I don't believe many of the plot details made an impact on me as a child, but I do vividly recall Boris Karloff as the monster. I especially recall the climactic set-piece held over a giant smouldering crater with Frankenstein's son menaced by the monster; ultimately, Frankenstein swings from a rope and knocks the monster from his perch into the pit.

Perhaps the scene felt intense to me because a child was in peril; all I know is that my first viewing of the film had a gripping momentum which no later viewing replicated (indeed, when I saw the film next as a teenager I was surprised to discover how deliberately funny it was). So while I found the moment intense, I don't think it bothered me so much that my parents felt I shouldn't see any more of those late night pictures.

More on that tomorrow...

Thoughts from a Michael about Michaelmas

Yesterday was the feast day of St. Michael the Archangel also known as Michaelmas. Being a Michael, it caused me take a moment to reflect upon my namesake.

Feasts, saints and angels are things which I think are primarily of interest to Catholics or high Anglicans (high as in church, not high as a kite). I've lived most of my life without knowing the occasion Michaelmas existed.

My parents made deliberate choices when naming myself and my brothers; we each have two middle names, one for a name from my father's side and the other from my mother's. Thus, rather than picking and choosing from either side of the family for our given names, instead we received names from the Bible. I have seen the name Michael defined as "He who is like God." What a name to live up to!

Going strictly by the text of the Bible, St. Michael is one of only two angels who received names (the other is Gabriel). Yes, some churches have traditions which include the likes of Raphael or Azrael. To them I say: that's fine, but have you spoken to Mormons about Moroni lately?

When I see how angels are represented in Hollywood films, television shows, novels and comic books, I get the idea that a great deal of undue emphasis has been placed upon them. Yes, we Christians recognize angels as servants working directly with God, but so what? Yes, they enjoy a relationship with God the likes of which no one on Earth can achieve, but they don't appear to possess the same level of free will as we do.

Or do I have that wrong? Are angels capable of self-determination in equal measure to humans, but are simply much better able to obey God's will because of the closeness they already share? I suppose questions like these are what sustain the discipline of Angelology.

But what does St. Michael mean to me? You have to look to his references in the Bible to figure him out; he's best remembered for this passage from Revelation 12:7-9:

7 And war broke out in heaven: Michael and his angels fought with the dragon; and the dragon and his angels fought, 8 but they did not prevail, nor was a place found for them in heaven any longer. 9 So the great dragon was cast out, that serpent of old, called the Devil and Satan, who deceives the whole world; he was cast to the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.

It's because of this passage that St. Michael is often depicted in combat with dragons, making him perhaps the second-best known dragon slayer among the saints (St. George had a good publicity man). As a man with a lifelong interest in super heroes, I can get behind this idea of Michael as the angel of action, the lancer who steps out from obscurity to defeat the main villain. Very good showing, Michael!

But the other reference to Michael the Archangel is... problematic. It appeared one book earlier in the Bible - Jude 1:9:

9 Yet Michael the archangel, in contending with the devil, when he disputed about the body of Moses, dared not bring against him a reviling accusation, but said, “The Lord rebuke you!”

You read that and think, "oh yeah, it's Michael against the Devil; that's something he did, it sounds right." But then you might wonder "what's that about Moses?" You see, people aren't quite clear what exactly the event being referred to is. It hasn't even been agreed whether it refers to a Biblical account! (Zechariah 3:1-2 is one suggestion).

Once again I'm reminded of my connection to super hero literature. "Hm, a question of canon? Perhaps a retcon? Sounds just like comics!"

St. Michael versus the Spectre
by John Ostrander & Tom Mandrake

I actually do appreciate that Michael is such a strong name; though my goal is not to become an angel (again, that's Hollywood mythology), becoming "like God" is something I strive toward.

Quadrinhos em Português 3: Scott Pilgrim

To conclude my look at the Portuguese-language comic books I've been using to help me study the language, I turn to the other comic I found for sale at Amazon.com. Surprisingly, it's Bryan Lee O'Malley's Scott Pilgrim!

As a Canadian who elected to learn Portuguese, why not turn to a Canadian story which has been given a Portuguese translation? Of course, Scott Pilgrim was a big-time/small-time hit in the English-speaking world and led to a modestly underperforming motion picture. How well can a series steeped in North American pop culture references translate to an audience in Portugal? Good question!

Off the bat, you may notice the first volume "Scott Pilgrim's Precious Little Life" in English became "Scott Pilgrim na Boa Vida" in Portuguese. There may be connotations to the phrase local to Portugal which I don't understand, but the literal translation is "Scott Pilgrim: the Good Life," which really does a disservice to the original title. "Precious Little Life" speaks to Scott's sense of entitlement and lack of introspection, informing you a bit about his character before you ever read a page of the story. The Portuguese version lacks this subtle effect.

Scott Pilgrim indulges in a lot of slang which is muted in the translation: where Kim calls Stephen a "pussy boy" in English becomes "maraquinhas" (sissy); the meaning is similiar, but inexact. Fortunately, Sex Bob-Omb is intact; Crash & the Boys become "Crash & os Rapazes." This was probably a very challenging book for the translator to work on.

Of course, many recent additions to the English language such as "internet" have no Portuguese equivalent and use the same words. It's also interesting to note that the joke about Amazon.ca wasn't changed to a local version of the site, keeping the Canadian humour. Man, if the jokes about Toronto were arcane to readers in the US, I can only imagine how people in Portugal responded to this book!

Thank gooodness Scott Pilgrim became a large enough hit to warrant a Portuguese language version, one which can be easily obtained by anyone with internet access. And thus I take my leave of this subject, having reached this point where I'm puzzling through comic book pages, slowly translating them and trying to recognize the words and phrases by sight. Sometimes I succeed!

Quadrinhos em Português 2: Tintin

I had a plan. The next Portuguese-language comic book in my collection was going to be Blacksad, that beloved anthropomorphic animal detective series I've blogged about so often (and which remains one of the top search results for this blog). Sure, I was tempted to try and track down Brazilian copies of the Phantom (Fantasma) on ebay, but knowing Blacksad came from Spanish creators, I realized a Portuguese copy had to exist - and indeed, it does. I found an online book vendor based in Portugal who offered international shipping, asked my Angolan relations to check over the site to ensure it was reputable, then placed my order (including copies of XIII and some Marvel super hero books). Then I sat back to wait.

I didn't have to wait very long; the vendor soon got back to inform me they were cancelling my order. Yes, they did offer international shipping, but I think they were more comfortable shipping across Europe, rather than the Great White North. I felt despondent; where could I possibly go to find a Portuguese language comic book?

Amazon.com, as it turns out. I had completely forgotten about my old friend Tintin, whose books have, of course, been translated into every language spoken on Earth (and probably some geek has rendered them into Elvish). The USA's Amazon service includes many copies of Portugal's As Aventuras de Tintin, so I settled for a copy of Explorando a Lua (Explorers on the Moon), which is now the third Tintin book in my comics library: one in English, one in French and one in Portuguese - each one a different story!

I realized early on in life that Tintin was a "respectable" comic book; after all, only he and Asterix were elected worthy to reside not only upon the shelves of my junior high school library, but in the esteemed public library as well! (we did possess one copy of the Smithsonian Book of Comic Book Comics in the junior high library but it was reference-only). I believe I read every Tintin book before the end of junior high.

The first thing I did upon bending back the cover of Explorando a Lua was to hunt for Thompson & Thomson. Well aware that the duo were renamed from nation to nation while retaining the same joke (surnames which are homonyms), I quickly found in Portugal the duo are known as... Dupond & Dupont. That is to say, the original French names. Noting that Snowy was likewise named Milou as in the original pages, I wonder if perhaps the old practice of renaming the characters for each culture has been abandoned, with present-day translations seeking closer fidelity to the French originals (except for in North America where, no doubt, the Snowy and Thompson & Thomson monikers will endure).

One advantage to reading a Tintin book from Portugal is that it uses the version of Portuguese practiced in Angola by my relatives. The disadvantage is that the European version is extremely unpopular in North American so my texts, classes and apps have all been teaching me the Brazilian grammar and pronunciation. Largely it doesn't make a difference but there are moments where I'm taken aback to find phrases structured in a way other than how my Brazilian instructor guided me.

Overall I've been finding that comic books being largely conversational, my skills have been seriously challenged by the informal manners of speech found in Portuguese comics. This is good! I can probably study them for years as my fluency improves!

Three cheers for the ubiquitous Tintin! One more entry on Portuguese comics tomorrow!