I don’t think I could explain the never-ending life-chaos of the last year if I wanted to, but suffice to say my rudely interrupted Christmas Horror series is all polished up and in the queue…for December 2024.

I’ve abandoned any delusions of intricate multi-part thematic series posts in the near and, while I have so many complicated things cooking offline, am returning (temporarily) to the short review/reaction essay format of yore. Because a full site redesign is one of the many things in flux right now, I’m going to append trailers at the bottom of the post because they’re creating so much formatting chaos I’m starting to think I have a ghost in the machine.

I can tell you one thing for sure: horror film and literature has been an embarrassment of riches lately.

Two films I’ve been looking forward to popped up on subscription streaming services and/or VOD sooner than I expected. I am not complaining. Late Night With the Devil (2023) debuted on Shudder on April 19, the theatrical release date for Abigail (2024), although I didn’t actually see Abigail until this past weekend.

In Late Night With the Devil, Writers/Directors Cameron and Colin Cairnes present us with a found footage homage to Ghost Watch (1992), The Exorcist II (1977), 1970s late night TV talkshows, and the Satanic Panic which never entirely dissipates in the US. Purporting to be a reconstruction of a live 1977 Halloween broadcast intended to boost host Jack Delroy’s (David Dastmalchian) trailing ratings, the narrative integrates broadcast and behind-the-scenes documentary footage to show us the catastrophic consequences of Delroy’s hunger for success. Dastmalchian’s performance and the masterful mise en scène have, deservedly, garnered quite a lot of praise and attention. The rushed and slightly incoherent third act has also garnered a lot of attention, albeit minus the acclaim. Ditto the controversy regarding 3 AI generated interstitial images which appear during Delroy’s show.

(joke about the devil being in the details deleted in a rare display of self-control)

I’m less interested here in the messy bits here. Instead, I want to take a moment to praise Ingrid Torelli’s performance as Lilly. Torelli does a bang-up job channeling the 1970s vibe of the possessed child manifesting a demon under hypnosis, but what I found chilling were the moments when Lilly is a polite and composed child who stares down the camera lens, seeming to pierce the souls of the viewers tuning in to watch Delroy’s live spectacle. I found Lilly’s uncanny awareness of which camera is live both amusing and disquieting.

Found footage writers and filmmakers have long leveraged the rise of indie creators such as Youtubers, livestreamers, and podcasters to their advantage. Not having to contrive a journalistic backstory or mimic specific televisual elements can allow for greater freedom. Nevertheless, the medium of television remains a rich source, particularly for cosmic or supernatural horror.

I Saw the TV Glow (2024) opens wide theatrically this week. While I likely won’t get a chance to see it until it arrives on streaming/VOD, I might occupy a little of that time with a reread of Kiersten White’s delightfully creepy 2023 novel, Mr. Magic.

Without spoilers, Mr. Magic is about a phenomenally popular 90s kids show that everyone remembers but of which no one can find footage. I’m continuously surprised that I still find it surprising how much work it still is to research television and how much once-wildly popular programming – even clips – simply isn’t anywhere to be found online. Reading Mr. Magic makes this feel vaguely sinister. I mean, you can certainly argue that it’s sinister the way we underfund archives and repositories and how little attention we pay to media conservation and preservation and how many impediments there are to digitizing and cataloging content, even without the complicated issues around posting anything corporately owned in a manner both legal and equitable.

But that’s depressing and not nearly as much fun as thinking about demons.

And speaking of demons. Abigail. Holy cats and kittens, this is a fun movie! As the trailer makes abundantly clear, the plot involves kidnappers (played by Melissa Barrera, Dan Stevens, Kathryn Newton, William Catlett, Angus Cloud, and Kevin Durand) getting more than they bargained for when Lambert (Giancarlo Esposito) asks them to kidnap a young girl (Alisha Weir). Fans often complain about trailers with spoilers, but here Universal seems almost playful in the way they supply a trailer that basically dares you to go into the film believing you know too much. The film unspools its twists and wrinkles at a steady clip and the internal logic is pretty solid. Solid enough, at any rate.

Abigail (2024)

Late Night With the Devil (2023)

I Saw the TV Glow (2024)