Experimental film

This book was so long guys... Not really, it's about 300 pages, but it felt so long. There's a good story in here, this just isn't quite it.

Some things are so over-explained, others aren't explained enough. No one is super interesting, but I still wanted to find out how it worked out, but even that was pretty anticlimactic.

We're given things out of order so we can make connections between things, but then its like “psych! That's not actually connected”. Why have one of the characters weirdly spelled name be almost like another's last name if it doesn't mean anything? Also, lots of weird missing words/letters that I think was supposed to seem conversational?, but just felt weird. I feel like this really needed an editor to tighten up the story.

I will say that I found the whole Lady Midday thing really interesting and I'm interested in more of the Eastern European folklore, and the whole early filmmaking in Canada angle too!, but this was just... meh.

It is quite clear that Gemma Files is intimately aware of the Experimental Film output of Canada. An interestingly niche topic, she has managed to create a fascinating and creepy tale based on the potential for truth behind myth and the power of belief and knowledge whilst giving an interesting overview of this weird and wonderful bracket of filmography.

The story focuses on the search for some old films made at the dawn of cinema in Canada by a pioneering women cinematographer who had a fascination with obscure Slavic mythology and occultism. Dealing with obsession, mystery and jealousy this tale packs a decent punch, all playing out against the background of research into historic films.

This was my first read of Gemma Files work, and I was impressed by its erudite but readable prose. Her interest in the subject matter comes across well and you cannot help getting caught up in her enthusiasm. The Wendian myth that forms the basis for her horror plays out in an almost Lovecraftian way - the horror behind the veil as it were. An impressive creepy and educational tale

5 stars for creepiness, and Lois was a complex, well written character.

However, from the first few pages it felt pretentious and insular, at times feeling as if the author was name dropping and referencing obscure directors, films and artists for the sake of showing off, not for any larger character development or plot.

It shines more when discussing ancient folk stories such as Lady Midday. It felt like the author shoe horned in a truly creepy myth into her own passion for filmmaking, and the mix didn't quite work for me. For example, she created a blind character, Sidlo, who has an X-Gene level mutation that allows him to telepathically translate another person's memories onto film. This was so weird-like how does that work, mechanicaly? He touches a person, and also a reel of film, and then what?

Also, Lois' husband -just, there is no way a person so accepting, loving and self sacrificing exists. With all of the stuff Lois puts him through I expected him to reach his limit any second, but instead he decides to help her basically ghost hunt (while their son is in the hospital...).


Definitely worth a read if you're looking for a good horror novel, despite my grievances.

This very much falls into the interesting idea/disappointing execution bucket.

In its purest form, done right, watching an experimental film is the closest you can come to dreaming another person's dreams. Which is why to watch one is, essentially, to invite another person into your head, hoping you emerge haunted.

I think herein lies the contradiction at the heart of the novel. Experimental Film is not a film but a book. Consequently, the experience is less like dreaming another person's dream and more like listening to another person explain their dream to you, an experience which tends to be less haunting than it is tedious.

There's definitely an interesting idea here, something like an analog version of The Ring with an Old World god at its center.

The real weakness for me was the narrative style, which is clogged with references.

So, a moment of confrontation is filtered through a reference to a Larry Cohen interview, complete with a handful of notable films he created. A tense moment of silence is compared to a John Cage composition. Near the climax, the protagonist describes their predicament as “if Quentin Tarantino-directed a supernatural giallo or a Guillermo del Toro sitcom with a CanCon twist.”

Sure, it's clever, but it falls into that all-too-common pitfall of postmodern horror: a feeling of alienation from the text, from the characters, from the menacing forces driving the story. By the end, I was skimming and hoping for a really brutal ending because I wanted something to shock me into caring.