Gothic 1986 2002 Horror Movie Review

Lurid, kitschy, over the top—what more does one expect from Ken Russell, director of The Devils, Tommy, and Altered States? Gothic purports to tell the story of a night that Lord Byron, Percy Shelley, and the future Mary Shelley spent at a country estate and decided to write ghost stories—a night that ultimately resulted in Mary writing the novel Frankenstein. These three and a couple of friends romp around the mansion, freaking out at shadows and the sounds of a storm, getting increasingly hysterical and hallucinatory as the night progresses. Thrown into the mix are a mechanical belly dancer, nudity, walking suits of armor, an orgy, séances, grotesque masks, leeches, a pig’s head, stigmata, snakes, and God-awful dialogue like “We are the gods now—we have dared to call ourselves creators!” Gabriel Byrne (Byron), Julian Sands (Shelley), and Natasha Richardson (Mary) are all terrible; it’s a miracle any of their careers survived. But good or bad isn’t really the point with Ken Russell, who aspires to a kind of visual delirium. Gothic isn’t the masterpiece of excess that The Lair of the White Worm is, but towards the last half-hour it does achieve a creepy state of disorientation entirely suited to its subject matter. Russell isn’t afraid to be trashy in the pursuit of unfettered cinematic symbolism. It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it. —Bret Fetzer