Tales of Poe

This is one of the reasons I’ll miss these RIG courses: being “forced” to return to the classics. Last semester I was treated to H.P. Lovecraft, somebody I’d always wanted to read but was too afraid to try (due to the language in which it was written). Edgar Allan Poe is another staple of the horror genre that I wanted to read, but never felt I had the brainpower for. Was I ever wrong!

I can’t critique the writer because of the decades that separate us—to do so would require me to read a lot more 1800s literature than I care to digest at this stage in the game (so much for a doctorate’s in 19^th Century Literature), but I can talk a bit about the stories I read and the psychos he introduced.

The Tell-Tale Heart

This is perhaps one of his best-known pieces of writing aside from The Raven. It’s a simple tale of a man who commits murder but just as he’s about to get away with it something drives him to confess. This fellow spends the entirety of the tale trying to convince us he isn’t crazy, but we don’t buy it. First off, he murders somebody over a disquieting physical feature, but then he’s driven to confession by an imaginary beating heart. What truly makes this guy a psycho though is his dedication to the cause. He spends an entire week peering into the old man’s bedchambers at midnight just to catch a glimpse of the eye. He does it so methodically, that it take him an hour just to maneuver his head through the crack in the door. I want to believe that on the eighth night, he intentionally woke the old man up to quicken deed. It’s a great read, and is fantastically written in a tempo that denotes a spiraling madness.

The Black Cat

Psychos abuse pets, right? Who knew that Poe was so cutting edge? This is a tale of a kindhearted man who loves animals more than people, but who finds himself growing meaner as he gives into alcoholism. He becomes so mean as to begin to abuse the pets he so loves until finally one day he kills his favorite beast—a pure black cat that his wife jokingly thinks is a witch. It should be noted that he also plucked out its eyeball with a penknife at some point in the recent past. That’s when the madness begins… or is it madness at all? The line is blurred this man’s house burns down (leaving a strange silhouette of a hanging cat on the one standing wall) . Of course, he feels he regrets the cat murder, and goes about searching for a replacement. But why? Is it guilt? It seems to be, but when he finally finds a replacement the cycle begins anew. Now, this guy is obviously a psycho, but it also seems like Poe added a supernatural element. When the man murders his wife because she gets in the way of him killing the replacement cat (which looks a lot like his first one), he boards her up in the wall and the cat disappears. Then the police come and he (like our “hero” in The Tell-Tale Heart) about gets away with it before he bangs on the wall he buried her in. The cat starts howling from INSIDE THE WALL! Was it always in there? Was it really a cat, or are black cats really witches in disguise and this one was out to get revenge… or better yet, was it the original cat/witch back for revenge?

The Cask of Amontillado

So this one I loved! Primarily because the psycho got away with it. My only question? Why! The story hints at centuries of murder in our MC’s family to bolster the walls and crevices of their wine cellar, but the victim didn’t make a whole lot of sense. He said it was his friend, but his friend appeared to be a jester of some kind (his hat had bells and was cone shaped… I’m not a 19^th century Italy expert, but I saw court jester…), and he had was rich. But the narrative him luring his victim to his death, and goading him on with the “threat” of seeking another expert’s opinion on the voracity of a bottle of wine was entertaining.

Overall:

Poe had a keen sense when it came to pacing, and he didn’t write anything other than the what the story demanded. Yes, his language is dated, but even by today’s standards his stories seem concise and get to the point rather quickly.

Of course, that’s just the three stories I’ve read for this assignment, and his bibliography demands my attention moving forward. In fact, I think I’m going to return to his stories now…

The Killing Joke

Written by: Alan Moore

Illustrated by: Brian Bolland

Here’s a psycho that knows how to have a good time! In all fairness, he’s the only one in my reading this semester that fell into a chemical waste runoff pond (likely) after losing his wife that morning to a freak baby bottle heater accident (maybe). In this classic graphic novel we get a glimpse into the Joker’s background, though it’s revealed near the end that it’s probably not wholly accurate.

“Sometimes I remember it one way, sometimes another.”

We get that line after seeing the creation of Batman’s nemesis through a series of flashbacks. It’s a revelation that was without controversy, as the Joker’s origin has been famously vague since his inception. And while getting the real skinny on his creation is never likely to happen, many I’ve talked to or read about believe this to be the closest to reality. But, in the end, it’s just a story not unlike the ones Heath Ledger told during his turn as the Clown Prince in The Dark Knight.

And I think that’s the point of this book. We’ve read a lot books with psychos this semester, and seen a couple movies, but this one points out a what those glazed over: We never know what will drive somebody over the edge. Is it nature? Nurture? Is the Joker a born psycho or did he just snap one day like Michael Douglass in Falling Down (a movie I saw as a kid but makes way more sense as an adult)?

The Killing Joke isn’t your kid’s comic book. There are serious themes explored, and a vital turning point in the Batman universe (the rise of Oracle when Barbara Gordon is paralyzed). We see a nude Commissioner Gordon paraded by circus folk to a rollercoaster of insanity, led by Joker. During the ride he’s exposed to graphic imagery of his just-shot daughter, bleeding and naked in his living room. All of this to prove a point: one bad day is all it takes to trigger a psychotic break.

But why? I think it’s the Joker’s way of justifying his existence. It’s his way to show the world that he wasn’t a bad guy, just a guy who had a really, really bad day. If it could happen to him, it can happen to us all. It’s not a plea to Gotham to accept him or to absolve him of acts, but a warning. It’s been said that all Joker wants is to watch the world burn. As long as the rational people outnumber the psychos, it’s not going to be easy for him to set it ablaze. If he can show the people of Gotham that their beloved police commissioner can crack, what does that do for their tenuous grip on reality?

I don’t  think this book is groundbreaking or amazing or even excellent, but it is a good, if not great, addition to the Batman universe. It gives a level of depth to the Batman mythos that takes it beyond the comic book and into a cultural icon. Yes, it was one before this, but this book is the Batman book that reminds us that his world is dark and filled with monsters as dark as any that exist in ours.

Joyride, Jack Ketchum

And here it is! My favorite part of the semester. The part where I get to crack a book that’s just going to take me on a wild ride for no other reason than to just have a good time. My first semester it was Jay Anson’s Amityville Horror. Then last semester it was Robert Malfi’s Snow. This semester it’s Jack Ketchum’s Joyride.

This is not a psychological tour-de-force. It doesn’t necessarily explore the deep workings of the human psyche. It is, however, a fast-paced thrill ride that that gives a reader an easy-to-digest book that requires little commitment.

When I say commitment, I mean brainpower. Mental bandwidth. This isn’t something that needs to be dissected, merely enjoyed.

And that’s what I did. I enjoyed it.

Unlike the psychos of our past readings, Wayne Lock is painted with wide strokes and lacks many of the nuanced details found elsewhere. He simply wants to kill. He wants to kill so bad, but he just can’t bring himself to do it.

Until he witnesses a murder himself, that is. It’s like somebody who grew up wanting to be a writer, and then meeting somebody who is one… the switch goes up and now that kid’s writing up a storm in his makeshift office.

But Lock doesn’t have a makeshift office. He just has a book that he’s filled with the names of people who’ve slighted him. And once he’s sees somebody do what he’s always wanted to do, that book is going to be put to good use. Eventually.

This is the first book about a spree killer we’ve read this semester. It was a nice change of pace from the well-organized serial killers of the past few books and movies (except you, Pat Bateman) to just go on this little car ride with Lock.

And, of course, the people he witnessed commit a murder. But now they’re his witnesses! He kidnaps Lee and Carole, whom he witnessed kill her abusive husband just a couple of days before. They were his trigger, his inspiration.

Unfortunately, they aren’t the cold-blooded killers he thinks they are. They did it out of desperation because Carole’s soon-to-be-ex just wouldn’t stop intruding on their lives. Plus, he was a monster in his own right, cutting and raping Carole as if he owned her. No, they aren’t stone-cold killers, but he kidnaps them thinking they are so they could all have some fun together. That doesn’t really work out, though.

After his first kill, Wayne is thrown into a frenzy. I said before he wasn’t like our other organized killers, but he is organized. His route is planned out. He even has hotel reservations. Like a lot of spree killers, his choice of weapons is a gun, but he varies his MO a couple of times to keep the cops off his trail. It doesn’t really work, but hey, points for trying.

So what makes this guy a psycho? What traumatic event(s) in his past made him this way? Ketchum gives him the quintessential abusive parents angle, and even squeezes in an Oedipal complex for good measure. But the background felt shoe-horned, as if Lock had to have that background to be who he was. And I think that’s my major point of contention with the book: Wayne Lock could have just been a crazy sonofabitch and that would have made him scarier. Spree killers are scary like that, because everyone’s a target for no reason. So don’t give him a reason.

This book was definitely a lighter read than past entries, but I liked it. It was book candy, and it satisfied my sweet tooth.

Seven, Directed by David Fincher

Starring: Morgan Freeman, Brad Pitt, and Gwyneth Paltrow

I remember watching Seven when it first came out. I don’t remember the where or the circumstances under which I saw it (was it at a theater? On VHS? HBO?), but I remember nearly every detail of every scene. It was a dark, violent movie then, and it’s a dark, somewhat tame by today’s standards film now. The idea seems slightly cliché now: A serial killer who chooses and displays his victims based on the Seven Deadly Sins. From Gluttony to Wrath, each sin was delivered in such a deliciously stylized way as to be both obvious and cryptic. If displayed on their own, without the accompanying text, would they immediately be seen for what they are?

And that’s my only true problem with the movie. Does John Doe hold such contempt for the world around him that he sees it as necessary to label each kill? I think the film and the crimes themselves would be far stronger without telling us what each murder is supposed to represent. Then again, would we figure it out after only two murders without that help? Perhaps we are the dullards John Doe suspects us to be.

Kevin Spacey’s performance as John Doe is very good. I can’t take that away from him. He delivers his lines well and is just creepy enough for us to know that he’s the killer, no need to look elsewhere. It’s as if his performance was built to make us not look anywhere else… especially in the box. “Look at me! Look at me!” It’s an obvious sleight of hand to allow the filmmakers an opportunity to deliver the unexpected.

And it works, of course. If you’ve never seen the movie, then the ending is just twisty enough to draw a gasp and a “Damn, I should’ve seen that coming.”

But it all plays into John Doe’s attempt to deliver a message. What message is that? That this world is drowning in sin. Doe sees himself as a messenger to help awaken the world to its plight. There’s a discussion in the car while our heroes, Detectives David Mills and William Somerset drive the recently surrendered Doe into the middle of nowhere to find the last two bodies. That discussion is about Doe’s sanity and the role he’s played. Is he a messenger from God, or is he just crazy? And will anybody remember him a couple of months down the road? Mills writes him off as insane, but Doe has a trick up his sleeve that will most likely keep the world talking long after the crimes have ended.

But that’s another problem with Doe’s MO. He’s probably correct in thinking he’ll be discussed for years to come, but in what regard? The world will see him as smart for his plan, but they’ll also see him as Mills does: a loony that just happened to win.

It’s an ending we probably should have seen coming for awhile. Gwyneth Paltrow has just enough screen time for us to kind of care about her. We know she doesn’t like the city, but she wants to support her husband. The amount of screen time she’s given is a balance between noticeable and invisible, so that when the film’s final minutes unwind we are both shocked but not really saddened. It’s as if Fincher wants us to care about her, but not enough to create an emotional impact that takes away from the genius of John Doe’s plan.

Spacey’s portrayal of John Doe is an uncanny homage to Anthony Hopkins’ turn as Hannibal Lecter. Spacey channels the cannibal, from his cool demeanor to the way he speaks, and it would probably be so noticeable as to be distracting if he made an appearance any earlier in the film (well, an appearance in which we can see him or in which he delivers lines).

I think I’d like to see a sequel or take on this movie in which the Seven Cardinal Virtues are the killer’s inspiration, and he’s not doing it to show the world the error of its ways, but instead to see if it tears itself apart.

But, overall, this was a great movie, and fell perfectly in line with other crime procedural and psychological thrillers of the mid-90s, of which there were many. This one managed to stand out on the merits of its stars and fun ending.

Well, fun unless you're Gwyneth Paltrow.