All Creatures Great and Small (2020) s04e02 – Carpe Diem

Okay, now “All Creatures” feels like it’s back. Carpe Diem is a regular, episodic entry, with Samuel West hiring a professional bookkeeper to get the practice ship-shape—did he hire Neve McIntosh because he was flirting with her at a dance and not able to ask her out so instead he offered her a job? Unclear. Something’s going on with West this episode; he’s definitely missing his brother (will Callum Woodhouse be back this season? I refuse to Google), but we never find out how exactly. It’s not in the episode’s purview.

The A-plot involves McIntosh coming in and messing with the practice so they can make more money. The B-plot is West and aging farmer James Bolam’s aging cow. There’s also some family planning discussions for Nicholas Ralph and Rachel Shenton, who spend the episode oscillating between West and McIntosh, sometimes participating, sometimes just observing. West’s got a lot of hijinks, whether it’s bulling through the china shop, mooning over McIntosh, or ignoring Ralph’s complaints about her.

Ralph and Shenton get a vet case of their own—Paul Bazely’s adorable ferret—except Bazely’s broke (and an immigrant) and McIntosh hates rodents and the rodent-appearing, and the separate dramas all weave nicely together. The script, credited to Helen Raynor, is gentle to a fault. The show really doesn’t want to talk about the war, with multiple characters assuming it’ll all be over soon. So there’s a big air of dread hanging over it, which the script doesn’t acknowledge.

The show even cuts away when Anna Madeley and Will Thorp go out to the movies (the show was able to get permission to use Hollywood movie posters, but not the British movie the characters are discussing.

Director Hay gets in some very nice landscape shots and the elaborate slapstick (serious slapstick) opening.

It’s a very good episode. Though it bothers me I’m more scared about the war than some of the characters.

All Creatures Great and Small (2020) s04e01 – Broodiness

“All Creatures” returns with an Easter special. Because the show’s changed so much since last time—Callum Woodhouse is off in World War II (it’s 1940)—the episode’s less the start of a new season than a special, which is fine, just a peculiar start. Since last episode (a Christmas special, so just a handful of months later), the veterinary clinic has found a new normal, well integrating Rachel Shenton into the house as de facto bookkeeper. Things seem to be going well (enough), but it’s hard to tell because Samuel West has given up tobacco for Lent, and it’s almost over, and he’s jonesing for a pipe.

Meanwhile, Nicolas Ralph seems to be taking to co-ownership in the practice well, while Anna Madeley’s ready to get on with her life and divorce her long-absent husband. It’s unclear where things stand with Madeley and just pal Will Thorp; despite her getting a relatively big setup for her divorce subplot (which includes an intentional public shaming stage), the episode doesn’t reveal much about her experience. “All Creatures” continues to keep reveals about Madeley for special occasions. Not even Easter is special enough.

The episode starts with Ralph taking a leisurely drive back to town from country, with “Creatures” showing off the beauty of the English countryside, then almost hitting little kid Billy Hickey and his dog. Hickey’s going to be Ralph’s nemesis for the episode, a poor kid who Ralph profiles and decides is mistreating the dog, even as Shenton tells him to give Hickey a chance and not to be a dipshit. West’s got his own medical case about a ewe who rejects her lamb, and how West’s forgetting he’s not the only one going through things, and farmer Paul Hilton might have it rough, too.

Back at the house, Madeley and Shenton share a subplot about medical supplies while mostly playing support to the boys. West will give Madeley some support in writing her divorce statement, but it’s for the eventual benefit of his character arc. Shenton and West get some great scenes together as part of the episode’s antics. “All Creatures” spends the first quarter of the episode showing how life has changed since war began—men are just gone, with the town trying to continue in their absence—and it’s all very serious. Hickey’s a kid in an unsafe, if not dangerous, situation, and so his plot has a lot of serious.

Broodiness compensates with downright sitcom antics around the house, with West as the butt of the joke. It works out, especially juxtaposed against West’s subplot about the farmer. “All Creatures” manages to do a deft contrast of West and Ralph’s cases for the episode and how the duty of care relates to each. It’s a very nice, eventually rending morale.

“All Creatures” gives no indication of what it’ll be doing this season, but this first episode does reassure wherever they go, it’ll be more than worth the trip.

Speaking of… the drone shots. Not just when Ralph or West is driving around town, but for some of the establishing shots; they got themselves a drone, and they know how to use it. Nice directing from Andy Hay, great photography from Sara Deane.

It’s so nice to have “Creatures” back.

Emergency Declaration (2021, Han Jae-rim)

Emergency Declaration is a disaster movie made like a horror movie. It’s not just any disaster movie, either; it’s Airport meets Airplane but with bioterrorism. The bioterrorism doesn’t have to do with the horror movie; it’s all the investigation procedural. The horror movie experience is entirely reserved for the victims (and the audience). Declaration doesn’t thrill, it doesn’t excite, it terrorizes. From the start.

As we’re meeting busy cop dad Song Kang-ho (whose wife Woo Mi-hwa went on vacation with girlfriends without telling him), co-pilot Kim Nam-Gil, single parent Lee Byung-hun, and seeing the flight attendants and class trips arrive, we’re also meeting Yim Si-wan. He’s asking the desk clerk weird questions about the flights because the first act of Declaration is all about how lax Incheon Airport security is going to cause lots of problems.

Pretty soon, Lee’s adorable daughter, Kim Bo-min, has to go to the bathroom and goes to the boys because the class trip is waiting in line for the women’s. In the can, she just happens to see Yim slicing himself open so he can put a vial inside to get through security. Again, it’s Airport, only with bioterrorism instead of a bomb. And then it’s Airplanebecause Lee’s actually a hotshot pilot who burned out and is now a bit of a drunk. Luckily adorable Kim keeps him in line.

Now, by the time Kim sees Yim mutilating himself, it becomes clear director Han isn’t stopping the terror any time soon. Especially not when cop dad Song goes on a call about some TikToker threatening to do something to an airplane. Song pretty quickly discovers evidence, and it’s time to start talking about turning the plane around. Except no one listens to Song for a while.

But it’s okay because we’ve established the pilots made sure to get extra fuel (bad weather in Japan, which comes up again).

So we’re just waiting for Yim to do something and to see how it affects the lovable or at least sympathetic cast of passengers. Especially Kim, because Yim decides to terrorize her.

Now, Yim’s just an incel. He’s some other things on top of it, but when the news eventually compares him to someone else, it’s a U.S. mass shooter incel. Declaration came out in 2021, so in the middle of Covid-19, but you’d never know it. It’s a recent movie where Rona doesn’t happen (wow, did South Korea do things better than the U.S.—everyone’s crowded together in this movie, on plane or not), but it’s about bioterrorism and how people react to communicative disease. So it’s this weird, in-direct commentary on Rona only not, starring a generic incel, only not.

Or it would be such a commentary if Han weren’t just making a terrorizing movie about a lot of people dying horrible deaths and no one really being able to do anything to help, especially not over-promoted men, the United States, or the Japanese. Though Song’s somewhat shoe-horned in so they don’t have to give Jeon Do-yeon too much to do as the government minister in charge of the response. The movie decides in the third act she’s really super-duper important, only they don’t give her enough in the first act. She makes sense; she’s navigating the bioterrorism thriller. Lee’s on the plane doing his Ted Striker thing. Song’s around like it’s Taking of Pelham One Two Three. They needed first and third act drama, so they gave it to Song, while at least some of it should’ve been Jeon’s.

When I say director Han’s trying to terrorize, he’s not being coy about it. Whether or not the unfortunately constant lens flare is supposed to be ominous as far as foreshadowing (spoiler, yes), the editing and music are just about scaring the audience. Lee Byung-woo’s score is excellent. It’s almost entirely just horror movie slasher stalker music. Relentless.

Then the editing—from director Han, Lee Kang-il, and Kim Woo-hyun—cuts to and from characters in moments of incredible stress and tragedy, and fear. Whether they’re in the ground or the air, it’s just about scared people in their worst moments. Han brings incredible severity to this fictional remake of Airport. It’d be an opportunistic melodrama if it were a true story. But it’s not, so it’s just terrorizing.

And it works out pretty well. Declaration starts cracking somewhere in the second half, and it’s falling apart by the third. The film forecasts a lot of the story (intentionally) and occasionally drags things out too much.

There’s some excellent acting. Song and Woo have some great phone call scenes, Lee’s an awesome imperfect hero, and Yim’s never not scary. Han directs the hell of the film with outstanding CGI plane special effects. It’s gorgeous.

It’s also manipulative, and a little insincere, but—as with everything else Declaration does—expertly so.

All Creatures Great and Small (2020) s03e05 – Edward

It’s a great episode; easily the best of season three. The show takes a big bite into a challenging, oft-avoided subject—Anna Madeley’s character’s estranged son (Edward)—she called the cops on him when he robbed her previous employer. I think these are season one details, then in season two or maybe a Christmas special, the son was supposedly going to visit but never showed up.

This episode opens with Madeley taking the train down to meet him—Conor Deane’s voice accompanies her, reading his letter inviting her to hang out at a station. He’s in the navy now, so he’s making a connection. Madeley’s left instructions for the boys—just Callum Woodhouse and Samuel West because Nicholas Ralph and Rachel Shenton are up at her family farm—baked the son’s favorite cookies, and set off.

Once she arrives at the station, she meets a young woman, Lara Steward, working at a volunteer tea stand. Steward’s friendly and considerate, drawing Madeley into a more revealing conversation about herself and her relationship with Deane than we’ve ever gotten before. “Creatures” decided to give Madeley an episode on this subplot, and it’s a rousing success. Madeley’s fantastic.

But it’s not just a Madeley character development episode; there’s also loads for Woodhouse and West. Starting their day, West decides Woodhouse will handle all of Madeley’s duties. Woodhouse isn’t happy about it, but when schoolboy Austin Haynes shows up with a ticket for a day in the vet’s office (presumably a prize at the Christmas party), he changes his mind. Watching West be miserable showing some kid around the practice will be great.

However, it turns out Haynes is knowledgeable about animals and keen to learn more; he really wants to be a vet, and West loves finding this unexpected kindred spirit.

It’s a touching arc, which gets more complicated as Woodhouse goes from amused to indifferent to jealous.

Then out at Shenton’s family farm, she and Ralph check in to see what little sister Imogen Clawson’s been doing since the season premiere. Dropping out of school, it turns out, which upsets Shenton. It’s unclear why because Shenton never gets a scene not supporting Clawson and Clawson barely gets any scenes. Shenton and Ralph share some knowing looks, but he’s in the episode even less; it’s Madeley’s episode, and even the stuff with Woodhouse and West is a relief valve for her plot’s intensity.

Excellent script, credited to Karim Khan (his first credit on the series).

The show (and Madeley) have been building this episode since the first season; well worth the wait.

All Creatures Great and Small (2020) s03e04 – What A Balls Up!

No avoiding Nicholas Ralph’s desire to join up anymore. It’s front and center, complete with the questionable choice of playing instrumental cadences in the background when Ralph’s thinking about it. They only do it twice—maybe three times, and I’ve blocked one—but it’s the worst creative decision I can remember on the show.

Thank goodness the interludes are brief because it doesn’t take Rachel Shenton too long to figure out what’s up. Ralph’s been miserable with his genius idea to test the local cattle for tuberculosis, even getting in trouble with the Ministry of Agriculture, plus he’s also feeling like a heel for not going and fighting. He just doesn’t think he’s doing anything important.

Or something. It’s unclear because Ralph still keeps his own counsel, even as everyone else is in desperate need of talking. Shenton’s suddenly worried about her marriage to Ralph, even as they prove themselves a well-suited couple. Anna Madeley’s friendship with Will Thorp is getting near romantic, something Madeley’s been trying to avoid, but it’s finally hit the inevitable stage. Callum Woodhouse is fine, actually; he’s finally feeling comfortable and confident. However, Woodhouse’s confidence and Ralph’s busyness mean Samuel West doesn’t feel in charge of the practice anymore, so he takes to fussing on very special guest star Derek (as the profoundly adorable Pekingese Tricki Woo).

In addition to taking Ralph out of town to the previously unseen ministry (which West speaks about in hushed, fearful tones), the episode’s also got the first swearing I can remember on a “Creatures,” albeit old-timey British swearing. Adrian Rawlins guest stars as the blowhard Ministry guy who is sick of Ralph screwing up his paperwork on the TB testing. Rawlins is hilarious, with more depth than initially suggested.

There’s a lot of depth throughout the episode. Shenton finally gets her own arc, post-marriage. Madeley’s romance arc is devastating. West’s adorable with the dog and has a whole range of stifled emotions.

There’s an action sequence, which is phenomenal—director Andy Hay gets more drama out of thirties automobiles on a picturesque English roadway than most get out of fighter jets or spaceships. Woodhouse has a wonderful subplot, lots of good direction, and lots of good acting. Sophie Khan Levy is back as the rival vet’s daughter, who West learns is friendly with Woodhouse.

Chloë Mi Lin Ewart has the script credit again. It’s shaping up to be her season–this episode’s terrific.

Even with those lousy music choices.

All Creatures Great and Small (2020) s03e02 – Honeymoon’s Over

Having returned from his honeymoon and discovering the pleasures of the flesh, Nicholas Ralph is no longer obsessed with enlisting in the Army to fight in World War II. There aren’t even any references to it in the episode. It’s just about the changes at the veterinary hospital, with Samuel West getting annoyed at there being so many people around. The title doesn’t refer to Ralph and Rachel Shenton, while, technically, Honeymoon’s Over, they’re still in the adorable canoodling salad days, their burnt attic breakfasts giving way to… well, you know.

Ralph also wants to understand more about this practice in which he’s now a partner, but West tries to shut down all the conversations. Thanks to some needling from housekeeper Anna Madeley, West sees an opportunity to make Ralph sorry he ever asked to know more. Except then, it turns out West never expected Ralph and Shenton to work together, and he gets even more upset about the new arrangements.

Meanwhile, now full vet Callum Woodhouse has more responsibilities but still takes a somewhat relaxed approach to his profession. At least until he meets new customer Sophie Khan Levy, the daughter of the rival vet, who needs help with her Dalmatian. Woodhouse and Levy have a delightful arc, gentle, smart barbs, subtle flirting, and a solid veterinary case.

The main vet case is Lynda Rooke’s calves, who have a mystery ailment, and Ralph discovers sometimes you’ve got to play people counselor to be the best animal doctor–really touching stuff between the two of them, with Rooke opening up to an unprepared Ralph. It’s got a nice echo against West’s arc, which the episode directly emphasizes a couple of times.

Then there’s a scene with Will Thorp coming to tea after he and Madeley go for their walk, so he’s still around. Not much time for them to be cute together, but some.

Chloë Mi Lin Ewart and Ben Vanstone get the writing credit (principally Ewart, but Vanstone did “additional material”). I remembered Ewart’s name from a somewhat disappointing episode last season, but once Over gets rolling, it’s all good. The show just needs to establish how cantankerous West will get in this new situation.

Besides Ralph not being obsessed with battle glory, the one oddity is Shenton’s new day-to-day. Last episode suggested she was going to be still working her family farm, which could be where she’s biking home from, but the timing never seems quite right. It’s also the first episode in ages not to have her family appearing.

That oddity’s more curiosity, though; she needs the time to be around the house to piss off West, after all.

The last episode’s season premiere seemed a little overcooked; this “All Creatures” is on firmer ground.

Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949, Robert Hamer)

I don’t think I’ve ever referred to a performance as delicious before. I haven’t on The Stop Button (if Google is to be believed), but I’m also pretty sure I’ve never said that phrase before. Delicious performance.

Dennis Price gives a delicious performance in Kind Hearts and Coronets. He narrates almost the entire film; there’s a prologue to establish the setting and ground situation a little. It’s the late nineteenth century (which director Hamer and co-screenwriter John Dighton forget numerous times), and a British royal is due for the gallows in the morning. Price is that royal. He’s spending his last night on Earth writing his memoirs, which will eventually get to his conviction, but first, he’s got to cover all his other crimes.

Price’s narration starts with his childhood, which succeeds thanks to Audrey Fildes’s performance as his mother. She’s out of the film, tragically, in a dozen minutes or so, but her character’s incredibly complex in that time. Fildes ran off with an Italian singer (also Price, but in a mustache), who died upon hearing his son’s first cries. Fildes’s noble family cut her off, even in her tragedy. Thanks to the flashback device, we get to see Fildes and Price (as her husband) in the salad days, which carries her character development through into Fildes as a widow. By the time Price is playing the part, in his late teens, presumably, Fildes has become obsessed with reclaiming her position.

Along the way, Price’s character makes some friends who are important (and not) later on.

It’s a wonderfully done summary sequence, though it does delay Kind Hearts kicking off. Part of Price’s initial success is distracting from the inevitable—Alec Guinness playing eight different parts. It’s no secret, he’s credited with all of them in the opening titles, but the film takes its time before bringing him in. And the first time is just a walk-on, walk-off so Price can get a look.

Fildes can’t wait forever for her family to take her back; eventually, after one tragedy and slight too many, Price decides he’s going to commit to pruning his family tree until he and Fildes’s line is back in contention for the title.

Once Price starts hunting Guinness in his various parts, the film takes on a slightly absurdist tone, and it works. It’s having fun with Guinness doing different parts—including one woman—at various ages, though all snooty. Price is also snooty, which ingratiates him to a couple of his targets. One’s an old bank manager; the other’s a young layabout photographer with a beautiful wife, played by Valerie Hobson. Price is taken with her, but he’s been carrying on a long-time affair with childhood friend Joan Greenwood, who threw him over—marriage-wise—for a man with a career while Price just had a job.

The second act of Kind Hearts is Greenwood realizing she’d made a big mistake not latching on to Price’s star and Price realizing he lucked out Greenwood was as shallow as him because he’s got an idea on getting Hobson away from her Guinness.

Thanks to Price’s narration—which comments on his motivations, feelings, and thoughts throughout—he’s able to remain the star of the film, which Guinness otherwise ought to be walking away with. The film never addresses, other than the Italian patriarch, why Price doesn’t look like Guinness. It’s also unclear how Fildes fits into the family and who she would’ve been abandoning when she ran off.

Another missing piece is Greenwood’s brother, who apparently doesn’t survive to adulthood in any meaningful way for Price (or Greenwood).

Greenwood’s actually where Kind Hearts goes the most wrong. Well, she and Hobson. Hamer and Dighton write the Guinness roles as caricatures, which Guinness then inhabits and exudes pure brilliance, but the female characters aren’t even caricatures. They’re entirely one note. Sure, they’re from Price’s perspective because he’s narrating, only they’re not. Hamer’s direction manages to showcase Greenwood and Hobson, but never their performances. It’s too bad.

Great music from an uncredited Ernest Irving, Douglas Slocombe photography, Anthony Mendleson costumes—Kind Hearts is a fantastic production. Hamer’s direction is solid, other than the aforementioned problems, but never particularly impressive. The production and the performances drive the film’s success.

Nice little turns from Miles Malleson and Clive Morton in the prologue.

Kind Hearts and Coronets: plenty of Guinness to nibble on, but Price’s the feast.


All Rise (2019) s03e10 – Fire and Rain

There is more “All Rise” coming. While the OWN website says it’s a ten-episode section season, IMDb has all the titles for next season, whether it’s a three and a half or a four. I’m fascinated by the show’s production timelines, going back to the end of first season when Covid-19 lockdown changed the show’s trajectory.

So, whether it’s the end of season three or season three, part one, Fire and Rain is a great episode. It’s probably “All Rise”’s best episode. Technically speaking, it’d be hard to beat, and they’ve never done anything like this one before.

Showrunner Denitria Harris-Lawrence directed last season’s finale too, which at the time was the show’s finale, but it was nothing like this episode. This episode’s an action suspense thriller, with TikTok terrorist Nick Fink threatening to loose his mob on the courthouse. His scumbag sidekick, a perfect Josh Gilmer, is loitering around the courthouse to intimidate witness Olivia Aguilar.

Now, Jessica Camacho is encouraging Aguilar to testify, sort of as a favor to Wilson Bethel, even though U.S. attorney Nitya Vidyasagar is offering a better deal. So Camacho has stuck her neck out. It’d be terrible if something went wrong, like Ronak Gandhi screwing up some paperwork and it causing a disastrous continuance.

Of course, Sean Blakemore is defending Fink, and it’s in Simone Missick’s courtroom. So even though the episode opened with some very sexy marital canoodling for Missick and Christian Keyes—another series first, man-buns—there’s a lot of tension later on. Especially after Blakemore reveals he’s using their chemistry to manipulate her; it’s easily Blakemore’s best episode on the show and arguably his only good performance of the role so far.

Then there are the relationship troubles for Wilson Bethel and Lindsey Gort. She’s not telling him the real reason she doesn’t want to get married, and every time it seems like they’re going to have it out, Bethel needs another scene where Ian Anthony Dale yells at him. Dale’s performance is a little shaky this episode; he’s not believable as a yelly boss anymore, not after his party bro dream version a couple episodes ago.

Lindsay Mendez helps Gandhi try to repair the damage to the case, while J. Alex Brinson mostly offers support for Camacho. As for Camacho, who isn’t one of the cast members primed for an exit even though she’s never gotten an office this season… I really hope she’s back. She’s gotten so good on this show.

There’s a minor but urgent subplot for Samantha Marie Ware too.

Plus, Paul McCrane and Roger Guenveur Smith sucking up to Missick for election support. It’s a full episode with multiple cliffhangers, including a much foreshadowed one.

If they managed to keep this momentum going into the season premiere or whatever the next episode’s called… it’d be awesome for the show. I had no idea they could do an episode this good.

All Rise (2019) s03e08 – Lola Through the Looking Glass

I never watched “Ally McBeal,” but is a dream episode something it might have done? I wonder if it was better suited for the diversion than “All Rise.”

Though… even when “Rise”’s cast has been wanting in terms of performances, they’ve always been amiable, so having them play various absurd roles in Simone Missick’s dream is entertaining. The episode begins with no resolution to the elevator cliffhanger, where Missick and law school beau Sean Blakemore find themselves trapped. But they don’t kiss and canoodle or decide never to kiss and canoodle, which makes the cliffhanger even cheaper than before.

This episode opens with Missick getting an invitation to a prestigious law event. It turns out Blakemore’s the hosting lawyer, so it seems like he’s trying to get her away for a conference weekend at a resort. Before falling asleep and having her wild dream, Missick argues with her still primary caregiving husband, Christian Keyes, about childcare stuff. Then she and Wilson Bethel fight about him giving her relationship advice. As in, stay away from Blakemore’s resort invitation.

The dream has Missick giving up the law to marry Blakemore and living the good life. They’ve got three kids, who don’t figure into the story at all, and Missick’s trying to get elected national chairperson to a Black women’s legal society. She and Bethel are on the outs; he’s the judge now and apparently… gay and married to J. Alex Brinson. Jessica Camacho (who’s fantastic) is their brash, brassy, slutty, drunky surrogate. Lindsey Gort’s her doula.

Missick’s attraction to Blakemore is retroactively completely reasonable once he’s got his shirt off, which the dream sequence leads with. Keyes is also around, married to Ryan Michelle Bathe, now Missick’s nemesis. Missick stole Blakemore from Bathe in law school and ended up with Keyes, who had some kind of attraction with Missick back then. Now Keyes wants to leave Bathe and Bathe’s going to destroy Missick in the legal society election….

And there’s a law school reunion, where everyone gets together. Almost everyone. Marg Helgenberger’s cameo is short, ditto Samantha Marie Ware and Roger Guenveur Smith. Ian Anthony Dale, however, displays unseen comic chops as a horny drunk, while Lindsay Mendez and Ruthie Ann Miles get to sing.

Some things work better than others—Brinson’s a tad broad–but shaking things up does liven the cast. Only for it all to turn out to be filler; stay tuned for next episode and the actual resolution. Maybe.

“All Rise” has let the Blakemore subplot entirely dominate the second half of the season, and it’s getting nothing out of it. Such strange, constant missteps.

Carnival of Souls (1962, Herk Harvey)

Carnival of Souls is another film in the “way too literal ending” genre. After seventy-five minutes (of seventy-eight) recounting its protagonist’s bewildering, terrifying experiences, the finish is a big wink and shrug. Though there’s a seemingly unintentional casting gaffe to tie the disparate narratives together. Unfortunately, that low-budget coincidence doesn’t add anything to the ending.

The film opens with lead Candace Hilligoss surviving a terrible car accident. She and her gal pals are drag racing some boys, and their car goes off a bridge; Hilligoss is the sole survivor. The opening titles are moody, beautiful lighted shots of the river, so when Hilligoss emerges, it’s in a familiar location. It sets a higher expectation than the film will achieve with recurring locations.

Hilligoss can’t remember what happened in the car—the boys have already lied to the cops about what happened, so they luck out, but it goes unexplored anyway. After a very brief recovery, Hilligoss is ready to move on to her new job at a church in Utah; she’s a professional organist, which means there’s going to be so much organ music in the movie. At the beginning, especially during the titles, it seems like Gene Moore’s music will be an asset. However, once it’s clear it’s just organ music—probably the same organ music, it’s all indistinguishable, even when the music becomes a plot point—and it’s very tiresome.

In Utah, Hilligoss hallucinates some scary ghouls around her car as she passes a closed carnival pavilion in the distance. The pavilion’s Souls’s best and worst; when Hilligoss eventually tours it, the experience is perfectly dreamy (Maurice Prather’s black and white photography is remarkable for such a low-budget effort and superb in general). But when she frequently daydreams about it, those sequences don’t have any of the dreaminess. Bill de Jarnette and Dan Palmquist do the cutting, and they’re a little too blunt about it; they’ve got no rhythm. Though with Moore’s organ music going in the background, what could they really do?

Hilligoss finds herself a room; Frances Feist’s her landlady, Sidney Berger’s the creepy sexual predator neighbor who judges Hilligoss for not being religious enough even though she works at a church. She wants to be paid for playing music in church—doesn’t it give her nightmares? Souls has a peculiar relationship with religion, especially since Hilligoss’s boss, Art Ellison, is a combination dipshit and asshole. At least he’s not a creep. Lots of the old dudes in Souls exude creep, including the local doctor (Stan Levitt), who determines Hilligoss is unfit to be in public without him evaluating her (even though he’s not qualified). Her old boss, organ manufacturer Tom McGinnis, was also a little too intrusive.

All the men agree Hilligoss is a little too independent, a little too headstrong, and has too much agency, which are interesting complaints, though none of them matter in the end.

As she tries to get acclimated to her new job and surroundings, Hilligoss starts seeing one of the ghouls from her trip around town. Director Harvey plays this lead ghoul, who’s definitely creepy, but technically much less threatening than, say, Berger. No one else can see Harvey, which confuses Hilligoss, but not as much when she has fits of insubstantiality when no one else can see or hear her, and she can’t hear them either.

It’s basically a “Twilight Zone” stretched out, with less budget than the TV show and questionable performances. Hilligoss does about as well as can be expected in the lead with such thin motivation and characterization. As needed, she looks terrified, though sometimes it’s unclear why she’s not terrified by what she’s experiencing (and vice versa). Berger’s amateurish but such a creep it ends up helping. Doctor Levitt and (apparently not Mormon in Utah) preacher Ellison are just bad. Though Souls has terrible ADR from the start, the looped deliveries aren’t just poorly acted but often clearly do not match the actors’ lips. So maybe it’s not all on them. Also, the script; Levitt and Ellison are the biggest patronizing assholes in a movie full of condescending assholes.

As far as Harvey’s direction… he’s definitely got his moments. However, he can’t do a regular conversation scene, which hurts the film since it’s mostly conversation scenes. The eerie pavilion material is usually quite good, and he makes some other big swings, mainly in the first act. Once Hilligoss is settled in Utah, fending off Berger, running from ghoul Harvey, there’s basically none. Harvey instead relies on the editing, which doesn’t (no pun) cut it.

Carnival of Souls isn’t terrible. It’s got a handful of moments; John Clifford’s script doesn’t do the film (or its actors) any favors, outside—albeit pointlessly—establishing Hilligoss as a singular (for the setting) protagonist. None of it adds up, not Hilligoss, not even the eerie pavilion, but at least the cinematography maintains throughout.

Sadly, so does that organ music.