Is 'The Call of Cthulhu (2005)' the finest adaptation of a H.P. Lovecraft story to date? It's an interesting question, but unfortunately not one that I can answer, since he's an author whose name I'd never heard until I watched this film. From what I've been able to gather, Lovecraft (1890-1937) a fellow with a particularly formidable glare, judging from his photograph was an American author of horror, fantasy and science-fiction, collectively known as "weird fiction." His short story "The Call of Cthulhu" was first published in 1928, and was long deemed unfilmable, until first-time director Andrew Leman took up the challenge. In a moment of inspired genius, it was decided to film the story as though, indeed, it had been produced in the 1920s, as a black-and-white silent film, with more than just a hint of German Expressionism. This artistic decision successfully obscures the production's presumably-restricted budget, and, not only does it look great, but any apparent faults actually work in the film's favour, harking back to an era when imagination preceded realism.
Though Lovecraft's story doesn't really go anywhere, and is so terribly convoluted that once we're even treated to a flashback within a flashback within a flashback within a flashback, it is also consistently engaging, steadily uncoiling a thread of mystery and intrigue. When a man (Matt Foyer) uncovers the ill-fated research of his late uncle, he comes to learn of a dangerous and enigmatic cult, which worships a monstrous alien deity named Cthulhu. Through dreams, journals and historical documents, the man uncovers a baffling string of inexplicable coincidences, and uncovers the truth behind the disappearance of a ship's crew on an uncharted Pacific island. The narrative structure perhaps modelled on the flashback framing device of 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920)' works better than it probably should, accumulating an assortment of seemingly-unrelated tales into a puzzle that slowly forms before our eyes, then ending with just as much uncertainty and ambiguity as we had to begin with. We get the sense that there's a lot more to this mystery than we've been told.
The films works most successfully as an affectionate and endearing homage to the Gothic horrors of the 1920s, most noticeably Robert Wiene's 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari' and F.W. Murnau's 'Faust (1926).' All the stylistic elements the emphatic overacting, the stodgy special effects, the distorted cardboard sets contribute effectively towards evoking the desired atmosphere. The musical score adds a dramatic touch to the proceedings, and, against all logic, I actually found the ominous charge of Cthulhu to be quite a creepy spectacle. 'The Call of Cthulhu,' like all films, appears to have its fair share of dissenters, but I imagine the bulk of them to have had very little experience in silent cinema. If this is the case, it's understandable than many might have difficulty in understanding both the film's thematic and stylistic references. At only 47-minutes in length, Andrew Leman's entertaining Gothic thriller is very much worthwhile, and probably my favourite completely silent film since well, let's just say it starred Charles Chaplin.
Though Lovecraft's story doesn't really go anywhere, and is so terribly convoluted that once we're even treated to a flashback within a flashback within a flashback within a flashback, it is also consistently engaging, steadily uncoiling a thread of mystery and intrigue. When a man (Matt Foyer) uncovers the ill-fated research of his late uncle, he comes to learn of a dangerous and enigmatic cult, which worships a monstrous alien deity named Cthulhu. Through dreams, journals and historical documents, the man uncovers a baffling string of inexplicable coincidences, and uncovers the truth behind the disappearance of a ship's crew on an uncharted Pacific island. The narrative structure perhaps modelled on the flashback framing device of 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920)' works better than it probably should, accumulating an assortment of seemingly-unrelated tales into a puzzle that slowly forms before our eyes, then ending with just as much uncertainty and ambiguity as we had to begin with. We get the sense that there's a lot more to this mystery than we've been told.
The films works most successfully as an affectionate and endearing homage to the Gothic horrors of the 1920s, most noticeably Robert Wiene's 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari' and F.W. Murnau's 'Faust (1926).' All the stylistic elements the emphatic overacting, the stodgy special effects, the distorted cardboard sets contribute effectively towards evoking the desired atmosphere. The musical score adds a dramatic touch to the proceedings, and, against all logic, I actually found the ominous charge of Cthulhu to be quite a creepy spectacle. 'The Call of Cthulhu,' like all films, appears to have its fair share of dissenters, but I imagine the bulk of them to have had very little experience in silent cinema. If this is the case, it's understandable than many might have difficulty in understanding both the film's thematic and stylistic references. At only 47-minutes in length, Andrew Leman's entertaining Gothic thriller is very much worthwhile, and probably my favourite completely silent film since well, let's just say it starred Charles Chaplin.