It must count as some sort of achievement if you enter the world of feature-film making, complete one movie – which then turns out to be cult favourite – and then retire, never to be seen again. It’s probably not quite as impressive as the career of someone like Ridley Scott or Steven Spielberg, but it’s something. Such is the claim to fame of one Herk Harvey, and the film which he imparted to the world in 1962 was the unceasingly creepy Carnival of Souls.
The poster is vibrant and lurid, but the film itself is much more reserved, being shot in black-and-white for an obviously low budget; it’s also clear that many of the roles are being played by non-professional performers. The story begins with a group of young women out for a drive together; they encounter a similar group of young men, one thing leads to another and before you know it they are having a race along the local back roads. You know how it goes: it’s all great fun until someone’s car falls off a bridge into the river, imperilling the lives of all involved (though particularly the girls, as they’re the ones in the water).
A swift current and turbid water leads the authorities overseeing the rescue attempt to conclude that the car may never be recovered – but one of the young women turns up anyway. Her name is Mary, and she is played by Candace Hilligoss, who, like Harvey, is really only remembered for this film. Mary, it seems, is has a degree in being a church organist, and is not about to let a small matter like her involvement in a fatal crash get in the way of her career. She has recently managed to land a job at a church in Salt Lake City (I had no idea that being a church organist qualified as an actual career, but there you go), and shortly afterwards drives over there to begin her duties.
However, and here perhaps some of the influences on the film become apparent, things become a little unsettling for Mary: an abandoned resort on the shore of the Great Salt Lake captures her attention, while disquieting phantom figures appear around her as she drives (the most prominent of them is played by an uncredited Harvey himself). Her car radio won’t stop playing creepy organ music – though as Carnival of Souls‘ soundtrack is wall-to-wall organ music, this perhaps isn’t immediately obvious.
Even after she arrives in Salt Lake City, the influence of the abandoned resort refuses to fade, and she continues to see pallid, ghoulish figures – even though others around her don’t. Her neighbour (Sidney Berger) complains that she seems cold and distant, though as he spends most of his time persistently hitting on her perhaps we should not give his complaints too much weight. But always there is the resort; always there is the haunting organ music; always the silent ghouls. Is she losing her mind, or cursed – or is the truth something much worse?
Carnival of Souls has built up an impressive reputation as a cult favourite, as noted – something which is perhaps due to, rather than despite, the fact that the film remained a little-seen obscurity for the first quarter-century after its initial (very limited) release. (I remember reading an interview with one noted UK horror author, commenting on how he’d first seen it in his youth, been profoundly disturbed by it, and later shelled out a considerable sum for a dub copy he saw advertised in the back of (if memory serves) Fangoria magazine.) Carnival of Souls has always been in the public domain, so its resurgence in the internet age shouldn’t really come as a surprise – at least, it shouldn’t if the film is any good.
But is it any good? I think so: while there is a theatrical, melodramatic quality to some of the dialogue scenes (Mary’s very awkward date with her neighbour, for example) and some of the scares are heavily telegraphed (the moment when it turns out Mary hasn’t been sharing her troubles with her doctor, but someone rather more disquieting), the eerie atmosphere of the film is well handled and pervasive. The way in which the narrative fragments from something quite naturalistic into the broken echo of a recurring nightmare is also impressively handled – watching some of these old horror movies, you often get a lot of subtle weirdness filling up the first half or two thirds of the film, before the more striking (and expensive) visual shocks and set pieces get wheeled out at the end. However, watching Carnival of Souls it gradually becomes apparent that subtle, understated creepiness is basically all the film is trading in, which needs a bit of a mental adjustment: some of the concluding images – the ghouls rising from the water, the dancers in the ballroom, Mary being pursued across the salt flats – work extremely well and need no qualification or excuse.
On the other hand, you could certainly argue that Carnival of Souls may not so much be a good movie, as one which reminds you of other good movies that you may have come across in the past. This is what I mean when I say the influences on the film are often very clear, given this is a low-budget black and white horror film about a young woman driving across the desert and being troubled by what seem to be the walking dead. The history of horror cinema does not require there to be a missing link or a transitional step between Psycho and Night of the Living Dead – however, if there was such a need, it’s hard to imagine a film which could fill that role more admirably than this one. That said, what’s perhaps most striking and familiar about the film is the way in which it resembles an episode of The Twilight Zone blown up to (just about) feature length proportions. There’s one episode in particular which has essentially the same premise, although it’s developed here in considerably more detail. The concluding revelation has become a bit of a cliche after decades of regular employment, so it’s unlikely to prove a genuine twist or shock.
Well, there’s no shame in building on someone else’s idea, especially when you do it as effectively as happens here. Carnival of Souls remains a creepy little film – and perhaps it is the case that the film is distinguished not just by what it achieves, but also for the fact it manages to do so with such limited resources. Herk Harvey and Candace Hilligoss both deserve all the praise they have received over the years, for this is a great example of how to make a strikingly effective horror movie for virtually no money.
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