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I want to be perfect

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THE THREE MOTHERS: Mater Lachrymarum, Our Lady of Tears.

“The eldest of the three is named Mater Lachrymarum, Our Lady of Tears. She it is that night and day raves and moans, calling for vanished faces. […] She it was that stood in Bethlehem on the night when Herod’s sword swept its nurseries of Innocents, and the little feet were stiffened forever, which, heard at times as they tottered along floors overhead, woke pulses of love in household hearts that were not unmarked in heaven. Her eyes are sweet and subtle, wild and sleepy, by turns; oftentimes rising to the clouds, oftentimes challenging the heavens. She wears a diadem round her head.” – Thomas de Quincey, Suspiria de Profundis (x)

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THE THREE MOTHERS: Mater Tenebrarum, Our Lady of Darkness.

“But the third sister, who is also the youngest! Hush! whisper whilst we talk of her! Her kingdom is not large, or else no flesh should live; but within that kingdom all power is hers. Her head, turreted like that of Cybèle, rises almost beyond the reach of sight. She droops not; and her eyes rising so high might be hidden by distance. But, being what they are, they cannot be hidden; through the treble veil of crape which she wears, the fierce light of a  blazing misery, that rests not for matins or for vespers, for noon of day or noon of night, for ebbing or for flowing tide, may be read from the very ground. She is the defier of God. […] And her name is Mater Tenebrarum, Our Lady of Darkness.” – Thomas de Quincey, Suspiria de Profundis (x)

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THE THREE MOTHERS: Mater Suspiriorum, Our Lady of Sighs.

“The second sister is called Mater Suspiriorum, Our Lady of Sighs. She never scales the clouds, nor walks abroad upon the winds. She wears no diadem. And her eyes, if they were ever seen, would be neither sweet nor subtle; no man could read their story; they would be found filled with perishing dreams, and with wrecks of forgotten delirium.” – Thomas de Quincey, Suspiria de Profundis (x)

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Madame Blanc in Suspiria (2018) Dir. Luca Guadagnino.

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Ballet in Horror Pt. III: the floor...?

Suspiria (2018) | Black Swan (2010) | Audition (1999) | The Twilight Zone (1961)

I wasn't sure what to title this part, but these shots gave me a feeling of vulnerability...

Suzy is new to the Markos Dance Academy, having not yet proven herself or taken her place amongst the other dancers. She sits on the sidelines…for now.

Nina is at home, practicing and obsessing. At this moment, she is extremely vulnerable, full of self-doubt and over-obsessing on achieving perfection. This leads to a minor injury in this scene. But this is only the beginning of the consequences of her obsession.

Ballet only plays a minor role in Audition. It’s not the setting like in Black Swan or Suspiria, but a minor thematic element in Asami’s backstory. When we see Asami in this state, it’s to remind us how vulnerable she is. A reminder of what she is carrying with her when she encounters the misguided Aoyama.

The ballet dancer is one of Five Characters in Search of an Exit. Stuck in a pit of darkness with no escape. This Twilight Zone episode is inspired by Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit, and the idea that “Hell is other people.” This story does on to inspire horror films like Cube, which explore the vulnerability we encounter in relation to the distrust of those around us and the fragility of identity—much like many of the other films in this Ballet in Horror series.

Read my article, Blood-Stained Satin: A Reflection on the Aesthetics of Ballet in Horror on Beauty of Horror

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black swan (2010)

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Bride of Frankenstein (1935)

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Norman Lindsey- The Audience

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Twisted Tales: Once Dead

Myrtha was young and blindly naive. Her father abandoned her before she was born, her mother died prematurely. She had no one but she had hope. She had books, and tales and folklore that kept her going. Tales of romance to dream about at night. She knew some day it would be her turn.

By chance she was employed by a duke, by chance the pretty young girl caught his eye. He sought her out while she cleaned and poured his heart out. He told her about how unhappy his arranged marriage was, how despicable his wife was, and how much sweeter Myrtha was. Days turned to months and soon he was professing his love for her, and making plans to run away. 

Myrtha was over the moon. She was living a fairy tale, a handsome man was going to risk it all for her. But then the duchess announced her pregnancy. Then she realized the duke was telling lies. He was nervous when she confronted him. This young dumb girl would ruin him. So he calmed her, and told her to meet him at the gates that night, and they’d run away together at last.

That night he led her deep into the woods, brought a rock down on her head, and dumped her unconscious body in a shallow grave.

This was not how her fairy tale was supposed to end. She refused to let it. She clawed her way out of the soil. Trapped in the place between living and dead. She was tethered to the clearing she was buried in, and had to return to her grave every dawn. Alone she cried and raged. Cursing the duke, his wife, and herself. She thought of her beloved fairy tales and mourned for her own. Despair overcame everything until one night, a man stumbled upon her. 

Twisted Tales: Twice Dead

Alexander was not a duke but he was kind and spoke gently to the undead girl. He was not a duke but in Myrtha’s eyes, he was a prince come to save the damsel in distress. She forgot the past and gave herself to her prince. But Alexander could not forget the past. He felt it on her cold skin, saw it in her lifeless eyes and thought about it every dawn when he put her to sleep in the dirt. He cared for her, it’s true, but he cared for the sun more.

So one night before dawn he told her he was going and would not be back. It pained him but it was what was best for the both of them. Try as she might, Myrtha could not follow as he left. She watched as her prince and their happily ever after abandoned her. Alexander would forever hear her wails as he fled in his nightmares.

The part that clung to life and hope finally died with Myrtha. She was a creature of the night now. Any man that dared to venture into her woods would be dragged to the lake and drowned.

She became a folktale herself and the nearby village would bury their young heartbroken girls in her clearing. A gift to appease her, they reasoned, friends to keep her company.

They were not her friends but an army. Girls filled with rage and want. It’s a beautiful sight, ghostly girls in white, dancing under a glowing moon. Some would say entrancing. She crowned herself queen and danced with her followers each night. But no matter how much she danced or how many men she drowned, her dead broken heart could not be healed.

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Natalia Osipova in the Royal Ballet's production of Giselle.

She looks astoundingly like Natalie Dormer here, like a ghost of Anne Boleyn out to kill some bastards who had it coming.

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I feel like deleting this whole Tumblr and starting fresh.

This is an old account, I don't want to make a new one. But I wanna clean slate?

Thinking on it.

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Why everything would be better with tails lol

From a prompt given by a friend that is currently sick, get well B 😉