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Jurnee Smollet stars in Lovecraft Country, which drops weekly on Neon. (Photo: HBO)
Jurnee Smollet stars in Lovecraft Country, which drops weekly on Neon. (Photo: HBO)

Pop CultureAugust 25, 2020

Lovecraft Country presents a chilling mirror to a horrific society

Jurnee Smollet stars in Lovecraft Country, which drops weekly on Neon. (Photo: HBO)
Jurnee Smollet stars in Lovecraft Country, which drops weekly on Neon. (Photo: HBO)

In Jordan Peele’s new show, the acclaimed director of Us and Get Out once again uses horror as a vehicle to critique our broken society.

If you’re watching the best, deepest and most thoughtful television today, chances are you’re watching a good piece of horror TV. The latest entrant into the recent boom is Lovecraft Country, available now on Neon and developed by Misha Green (Underground) from the novel by Matt Ruff. Where this show differs, though, is in the prescience and unfortunate relevance of its message. Just as producer Jordan Peele’s films have mined the horrors of racism in the US, Lovecraft Country is an explicit centring of Black excellence that couldn’t be any more welcome.

If you’re unfamiliar with Lovecraftian horror, I’ll give you a quick rundown. Lovecraftian horror – named for Cthulhu mythos writer HP Lovecraft – is less concerned with gore than it is with the visceral experience of fear, particularly fear of the unknown. It’s also sometimes called cosmic horror, in reference to the unknowableness of the vastness of the universe. Lovecraftian horror utilises monsters and aliens, engaging with a mythos of the supernatural. So, like, tense psychological thrills, but make it supernatural.

While the spirit is true to Lovecraft’s stories, the setting couldn’t be any different. (Photo: HBO)

This supernaturality is made clear in the opening sequence, in a science fiction shoot-em-up sequence straight out of the protagonist Atticus’ favourite book, and there are some very terrifying monsters in the first episode. As the stories unfold, the textures get richer, and the monsters become less supernatural and more horrifically human. Gone are the four-legged monsters with the sharp teeth, replaced instead by bone-crunching human shapeshifting.

As you’d expect from its pedigree, Lovecraft Country’s combination of prestige horror with comedic elements makes for a gripping blend. In Peele’s film Us, the middle act is entirely horror comedy, which has a fabulous effect of sneaking its message in, and shunting the viewer sideways into relentless pursuit and terror. His brilliant first film Get Out is sparing in its use of gore, to great and terrifying effect.

Lovecraft Country never loses its social messaging, but nor does it take itself so seriously as to make the viewing experience dire and distracting. Like in the blockbuster sci-fi hit Westworld, the world created here is so recognisable, and the actions of the characters so understandable, that there are potent social questions. But where Westworld’s thematics stimulate the audience to question “would I do this?” if placed in a similar scenario, Lovecraft Country, with its obvious and powerful emphasis on race and class, should have white viewers instead asking themselves “have I done this?”.

The core of Lovecraft Country is the way that the creators use the absurdity of horror – monsters, blood, curses, revenge missions – to draw attention to the absurdity of racially motivated violence and prejudice. Lovecraft Country shows the audience a very realistic depiction of 1950s Jim Crow America, and contrasts it with body horror and the supernatural. The tension of the sequences when the Black protagonists are driving through the “whites only” countryside is as nauseating as any gore scene. Over time the graphic horror is less of an assault to the senses than the depictions of racism. Why should we fear the supernatural when society is horrifying enough?

Jonathan Majors and Jurnee Smollet star in Lovecraft Country (Photo: HBO)

I won’t dignify HP Lovecraft’s batshit horrific theories of God and race with any kind of summary, but there is delicious irony in Matt Ruff’s use of Lovecraft in his novel and in this subsequent show. By baiting Lovecraft fans through the use of his name, Ruff subverts racism using its own art, in a similar way to what Watchmen did with Alan Moore. However, the strength and power of that irony comes much more to the fore in its adaptation by Black writers and producers. 

And Jordan Peele knows what he’s doing. Both Us and Get Out show white-on-black violence not just through the visceral horror aspects, but also through the very pointed examinations of economic disparity. Chana Joffe-Walt’s brilliant new podcast Nice White Parents, about the continued racial segregation in New York City public schools, could be fictionalised into a Peele-esque horror film about white people taking over a Black school and disenfranchising all the BIPOC students. That’s what nice white people do.

The undeniable skill of African American artists is the heart, lungs, and spine of Lovecraft Country. The creator Misha Green is a genius. The cast of predominantly Black actors, including Michael K Williams, Courtney B. Vance, Jurnee Smollett and Jonathan Majors are all superb. The white actors in supporting roles bring their best racist sneers to the ensemble. There’s no white saviourism in Lovecraft Country. Just radiant Black excellence.

Lovecraft Country is streaming now on Neon, with episodes dropping weekly every Monday.

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Remember Gloss? The characters on Shortland Street sure do.
Remember Gloss? The characters on Shortland Street sure do.

Pop CultureAugust 22, 2020

All that glitters is not Gloss: Shortland Street reunites the stars of NZ’s classic 80s drama

Remember Gloss? The characters on Shortland Street sure do.
Remember Gloss? The characters on Shortland Street sure do.

It’s the television reunion you didn’t know you needed, and a reminder of one of the best New Zealand shows you might never have seen.

Friday night’s episode of Shortland Street saw lovesick doctors Boyd and Zara celebrate their wedding, and it was a nice time. The bride and groom were thrilled and Chris Warner danced like nobody was watching, but that wasn’t what made this episode so memorable. The gilt on the gingerbread, the icing on the cake was the surprise on-screen reunion of three legends of New Zealand television. Hold on to your spiral perm, because 1987 called and it wants its drama back.

Last night the Gloss stars aligned to put Lisa Chappell, Miranda Harcourt and Peter Elliot back on the small screen for the first time since the series ended in 1990. It’s a big deal. Without Gloss, there would be no Shortland Street, and without Shortland Street, we would never have been blessed with last night’s wedding dance routine where Chris Warner revealed that the rhythm had finally got him.

Dang, you did it Shortland Street.

Chappell, Harcourt and Elliot first starred together in Gloss, the gloriously outrageous New Zealand drama about Auckland’s wealthy Redfern family and the cutthroat world of fashion journalism. The show sparkled with acerbic writing from talent like Rosemary McLeod and James Griffin, launched the careers of Temuera Morrison, Danielle Cormack and um, Jim Hickey, and showed us a New Zealand filled with bright lights and bitchy drama that we’d never seen on primetime telly before.

As members of the Redfern dynasty, Chappell, Harcourt and Elliot’s characters were at the epicentre of the melodrama. Gloss was set in the glamorous world of the late 80s, and everything was over the top, from the fashion to the drama to the hair. The show hummed with ambitious, stroppy women who refused to suffer fools, and iconic characters like Maxine Redfern (Illona Rogers) and Magda (Kerry Smith) would swoop into rooms, shoulder pads so wide they needed double doors, champagne in one hand, the crumbling reputations of their rivals in the other.

It’s fitting that after 30 years, these three actors were reunited in a Shortland Street wedding. Gemma (Harcourt) and Alastair’s (Simon Prast) wedding at the end of the first season of Gloss captured everything that was fierce and fabulous about the show, and set the bar high for television weddings to come. It’s arguably the show’s most memorable episode. No, it didn’t have Chris Warner loving himself sick during an impromptu Bollywood performance, but Gloss’s first season finale had just about everything else.

It had a secret Redfern son whose face had been reconstructed by plastic surgeons, and a groom with a magnificent mullet. It had a drunk runaway bride, who fled the church after the ceremony with her loyal boyfriend chasing after her. Mother of the groom Maxine told everyone the bride had “been on the gins”, and vengeful secretary Bridget lurked in the back pew, glowering in an 80s power suit, gun poised in hand. Bridget had scores to settle, and the episode finishes with two shootings, hysterical screaming and the church walls drenched in blood. With a cliffhanger this good, I’d marry it myself.

Last night’s Shortland Street reunion was a far less sticky affair, with Elliot returning as ex-hospital CEO David Kearney, the spicy new love interest of Boyd’s mother Susan (Harcourt). David departed Ferndale for Hawke’s Bay in 1999, but now he’s back making small talk with local MP Michelle (Chappell). It was a happy reunion, but there was one topic nobody dared to mention: where the hell was Ellen Crozier?

It’s not important (it is). The Gloss gang was back together again, and for a fleeting moment, it was 1987 all over again. “It’s like we knew each other in a former life,” David said to Susan, and when Boyd got sarky at his new dad, Michelle said “that takes the GLOSS off things”. Oh, how we laughed. All we needed was Maxine Redfern to burst through the doors and start shouting about cover stories and big hats, and this would have been the best moment of 2020. Until we see all three seasons of Gloss on TVNZ OnDemand, this is all we have: monuments and mirror glass, and Chris Warner shaking what his mother gave him.