ohnotistheterror

[ohnotistheterror]

Selfmade man with a made up name

[ohnotistheterror]

some of the terror characters as weird dogs

thank you for listening

[ohnotistheterror]

Burden

[ohnotistheterror]

•° Like A Dream, Sir •°

[ohnotistheterror]

say that we'll be alright even if it's lies

[ohnotistheterror]

This scene with Harry Goodsir and Dr. Stephen Stanley is just. Chef's kiss. Neither of these folks know anything about the spirit world but at least Goodsir has the good sense to be shaken up by what just transpired. He has the good sense to go and alert Dr. Stanley! But Stanley has had all the good sense drummed out of him years ago by the sheer colonial Englishness of his existence-

You know what, the 9 foot high warning drawn in sparklers wouldn't get Dr. Stanley's attention either

[ohnotistheterror]

The shaman without the mask appears again one last time, needing no tongue to tell David that he needs to convince his crew to go. To fucketh right off. To turn around and shimmy right back to England with their shimmyin' tassels. I love that this was clear and easy to follow, even before David starts howling.

When he breaks out howling, it's hair-raising, literally raised the hairs on the back of my arms. "RUN, RUN, HE WANTS US TO RUN!" It's the clearest warning they're gonna get. I mean, fuck. D. Do they need it 9 feet high in sparklers tossed by leaping seals?

[ohnotistheterror]

Obsessed with the mask they chose to use for this scene. It says everything about what's to come. The greatest danger isn't the ice, it isn't the cold, it isn't even the Tuunbaq, it's distortions of the mind that kill most of these men.

[ohnotistheterror]

And now the Netsilik shaman appears. EXCELLENT film technique, really impressed by how the lighting implies that David is seeing something between life and death. Clammy and yet also feverish, the shadows are rich and bleed into the lit areas of the frame. It feels like you're seeing him almost at the same time as Mr. Young is. This shaman comes in on the wind to speak to the young man who is hovering between life and death, trying to right a great wrong before it happens. Nothing good comes of these men dying on this land he is so connected to. Better if they leave before the damage is done.

[ohnotistheterror]

As David is starting to slip away belowdecks, the camera cuts to the ships sailing deeper into the night. It zooms in from above, a hair-raising angle that reminds me now of the Tuunbaq's attacks later on in the season. The dog begins to bark, because that creature knows something's up and Does Not Like. Even the men are uneasy, taking off their hats to listen to the wind. I like that the camera seems to follow the wind down into the hold of the ship, past the sleeping men, past the sleeping Goodsir, to David Young, where it transitions to loom over him. I like the visual language used to imply the movement of the spirit through the ship, to transmit the feeling of unease that having someone you cannot see staring at you.

[ohnotistheterror]

"I have been there when souls have passed. A great peace descends," -says a man who has no idea what the hell he is about to see

[ohnotistheterror]

"Sometimes, when people are near passing, I've heard they speak of a radiance, like a million daybreaks all in one. In which loved ones are there to welcome them over," says Dr. Goodsir, the nearest proxy to a spirit worker that the sailors brought with them. I think it's really interesting, and apt, that the spirit of the land, the spirit of the keeper of the Tuunbaq, and in a very real way David Young himself, try and get him to listen first. He hasn't the first clue what he's talking about in this particular case, but he's doing the best he has with what he's got, to make sure this young man feels safe before he passes. To ensure a peaceful crossing. A for effort, bud.

[ohnotistheterror]

Silna stills to cleanse your dash 💖

[ohnotistheterror]

And now the noose begins to tighten. We cut to Henry Goodsir, reading at David Young's bedside. A young man absolutely terrified of dying and being cut open, begging the person who does autopsies *not to do it.* This, I feel, is the first encounter with the spirit of the land itself. Not the Tuunbaq, but the land. It uses David Young, dying, to ask, "Who are you, invaders? How do you treat your weakest, the one who is dying? Do you come in a respectful way?"

The answer comes from Sir John, via poor Henry Goodsir. It's a resounding NO.

Goodsir, who strikes me as the kind of man who would not touch a cadaver if the person who'd recently vacated it had been begging him NOT TO CUT, listens to this young man with the most uncomfortable look on his face. He gives the impression of wanting to grant Young's wish. Instead, Goodsir is put in the awkward position of telling Young that his dying wish will not be honored, (because Sir John has no respect for anything, certainly not one of the youngest and weakest members of his crew.) "You may be a warning of things to come."

How right Goodsir was.

[ohnotistheterror]

I love that immediately after this, it cuts to Francis Crozier's face looking absolutely dread-filled, and the frame after that is the rear of his ship, the name front and center of the screen: TERROR

Oh boy it's the period-appropriate racism scene! Also, for the record, I'm gonna go with "more disturbed that they became Catholics" for 500, Bob. Seriously, the cultural genocide the English inflicted on the indigenous peoples is a crime against humanity. Snazzy theater, tired-ass production. The scene feels like a snapshot of who these men were built up to be by the pageantry in the imperial core, the gilded image that set them sailing into the teeth of the Arctic. It's easy to be brave in a bright hall filled with lights and beautiful women. It's harder when the reality of the Arctic starts setting in.

[ohnotistheterror]

Oh boy it's the period-appropriate racism scene! Also, for the record, I'm gonna go with "more disturbed that they became Catholics" for 500, Bob. Seriously, the cultural genocide the English inflicted on the indigenous peoples is a crime against humanity. Snazzy theater, tired-ass production. The scene feels like a snapshot of who these men were built up to be by the pageantry in the imperial core, the gilded image that set them sailing into the teeth of the Arctic. It's easy to be brave in a bright hall filled with lights and beautiful women. It's harder when the reality of the Arctic starts setting in.

[ohnotistheterror]

The four horsemen of the Something Wrong With Me