In the hall of horror literature, no one has impressed audiences
and critics for so long as Edgar Allan Poe.
While Nathaniel Hawthorne dabbled during the same period, and H. P.
Lovecraft won belated respect, Poe remains the king of American horror
fiction. His stories range in form and
genre, but the most well-known are dark, Gothic nightmares where the ghosts of
the dead rack the living with guilt.
Poe himself wasn’t as confident as his writing. Accurately portrayed in The Black Cat, he was a feeble alcoholic, who courted popular
success only toward the end of his life.
All writers know the resentment one can feel for an empty piece of
paper, and Poe knows it, as he struggles to find inspiration. He needs another success, because his wife
lies dying in her bed, a victim of consumption.
From here, the story of Poe dovetails into the narrative of The Black Cat. While his wife suffers the ill disease, Poe
finds nothing but anger for Pluto, the feline in question. The cat mocks him, leaping onto his suffering
wife, swatting at the goldfish on the table, and even harming the canary in the
gilded cage. Poe means to write, but,
first, he must do something about that infernal cat.
The Black Cat was
written by Dennis Paoli and Stuart Gordon, and they do a commendable job of
fusing the short story with the poet’s actual life. Poe aficionados will love the accuracy behind
little details, like Poe’s Southern accent.
Additionally, once the story moves definitively into the fictional tale,
the adaptation is entirely accurate.
This is not to say that things are a complete success. There is a moment of violence that occurs in
Poe’s basement that is so morbid and visual that it nearly ruins the Gothic
mood. I dislike sidling around what
happens, especially considering the popularity of Poe, but it is the peak
moment, and revealing more might ruin whatever suspense the story can conjure. Suffice to say, a single line from the story is drawn out to maximum gory impact, and its effect is compromised by such a blunt visualization.
Even then, it might be difficult for some to get any suspense out of
the story. Edgar Allan Poe has been in
the public domain for a century, and many of his Gothic tales are a variation
on the theme of premature burial.
Thankfully, Stuart Gordon and the production designers do a magnificent
job of creating Poe’s world. Even if you
don’t watch for the story, the episode is rewarding on a purely visual level.
Most of the color has been sapped out of Poe’s world, except
for two key colors. The maroon red of
blood, and the luminescent sheen of the cat’s green eyes. Everything else is muted, one shade above
black and white. The monochrome visuals
help the sense of antiquity, as the settings and props all mesh perfectly with
the world of 1843. This is the most
beautiful Masters of Horror episode yet, and should help cement Gordon
in genre critics’ minds as a true stylist.
Reflecting off the authenticity is Jeffrey Combs, who plays
Poe with fidelity, and love. He has been
struggling for years to find a project that would give him this chance, and he takes
it to the limit. There isn’t a single
performance in the entire series that can match his flawless portrayal. He projects the character of Poe as someone
whose own failings find their way into the stories he wrote, a man graceful
only when he put pen to paper.
What I took away from the episode was mostly visual, and
tonal. The storyline closes in a way
that might disappoint in its lack of imagination, but the episode itself is a
beauty, a marvel of acting and cinematography.
Imagine how amazing this series could be, if every episode was made with
this much passion.
