Outside of a Dream, Episode 9 - Annihilation

Skydance Media

 A mysterious phenomenon known as "the Shimmer" blankets the coast of Florida, impossibly contorting and remaking every form of life within its boundaries. A team of five female scientists crosses its borders, aiming to find the cause of the incomprehensible force and, for one of them, a cure for her husband's illness. None of them will leave as the same person they were before—if they even leave at all. Adapted from Jeff VanderMeer's novel, Annihilation is Alex Garland's second feature film and will go down as one of the great works of sci fi-horror.

Other highlights: Daniel establishes the Benedict Wong Seal of Quality, Cameron gushes over The Fountain, and we discuss H.P. Lovecraft's least racist story.

A kind warning: this episode contains constructive but intimate discussion regarding some potentially upsetting topics such as depression, anxiety, self-harm and suicidal ideation.

Annihilation can be streamed on Netflix in certain territories.

"How Annihilation Nails the Complex Reality of Depression," by Angelica Jade Bastién

"Annihilation & The Horrors of Change," FILM CRIT HULK


"St Marks Lighthouse 06/30/16," Donnie Pitts

None for All, All for Naught: The Dissolution of Morale in YellowBrickRoad

The more expansive selection of American Netflix has allowed me to catch up on some smaller horror movies that I never got around to, and almost all of them were good. At some point in the near future I hope to discuss Nicholas McCarthy’s The Pact, Nick Murphy’s The Awakening and Ti West’s The Innkeepers, all three of which range from good to excellent. For now, though, I want to talk about another movie I watched, one which had an effect on me like no other. It’s called YellowBrickRoad, written and directed by Jesse Holland and Andy Mitton, and it might be the first horror movie to have ever traumatized me.

Interview - Growing Pains: Horror Edition, Part II

Continuing last week's theme, I've turned to a fellow horror buff and asked them a few questions about what work in the genre has stayed with them, for better or worse, and how their feelings toward it has changed over the years or due to events in their life. This time around, my close friend Xander Harrington stepped up to the plate.

Interview - Cameron "Josef K." Suey

While I’m averse to anything remotely resembling risk in real life, I adore horror fiction in any medium, and masochistically enjoy the feelings of tension and paranoia resulting from a particularly effective work. Creepypasta is a font for these types of stories, though admittedly it’s a kind of “diamonds in the rough situation,” with a lot of its content originating from that cesspool of a message board, 4chan. But working late on a lonely winter night a year and a half ago, one of the site’s aforementioned jewels caught my eye: “Zero,” by Josef K., the deeply unnerving apologia of a nihilistic survivalist unleashing a viral plague upon the human race. Intrigued by the short story’s pessimistic, “no turning back” tone, I decided to click the author link and check out more of Josef’s work on his site. Roughly an hour later, I was steadfastly hammering out the rest of my essay, eyes solely on the computer screen and not daring to look toward the nearest window. I had just finished the story “Exit,” and was terrified at the thought of so much as glancing at those panes, only to see some long, pale face staring back.

The author inadvertently responsible for ruining my sleep on several occasions is not actually the protagonist of one of Franz Kafka’s unfinished novels but Cameron Suey, a 33-year-old husband, father and video game producer based out of San Francisco. When he hasn’t been working on Star Wars: The Force Unleashed and its sequel, Suey has crafted some of the scariest stories I’ve ever read. He was also kind to answer a few questions about writing, perspective and inspiration I sent to him via email.

Review - "Big Things Have Small Beginnings"

A lone figure stands on a dead planet, gazing solemnly at the spacecraft which brought him here, now flying away. As the mothership soars into the stratosphere, the being—a tall, hairless biped with chalk-white skin and uncannily human features—removes his cloak and drinks an oozing, shifting black liquid. In seconds, the compound brings him to his knees, painfully rending him apart at the molecular level until the humanoid tumbles down the adjacent waterfall and dissolves among the rocks below. But from this individual’s agonizing death comes a glimpse of something new. Decayed DNA strands reanimate, one cell splits into another, then another. Like seeds cast into the wind, life spreads.

So begins Prometheus, Ridley Scott’s semiprequel to his 1979 blockbuster—and my all time favourite movie—Alien. I specify “semiprequel” because Scott himself has been wishy-washy about where it sits in the Alien continuum. While it’s set in the same fictional universe, it focuses not on the series’ eponymous monsters but on a species only glimpsed in the original film. It’s a much grander movie, featuring a more cosmic and existential brand of horror than that of its darkly sexual proto-slasher progenitor. It’s 2001: A Space Odyssey by way of Alien and John Carpenter’s The Thing, and with a touch of H.P. Lovecraft to boot; in other words, everything I could ever ask for, give or take some concerns I have with the finished product.