"All life is only a set of pictures in the brain, among which there is no difference betwixt those born of real things and those born of inward dreamings, and no cause to value the one above the other."
H.P. Lovecraft is perhaps one of the most misunderstood authors of his era. A man lost in time, a reclusive xenophobe struggling to come to terms with the ever-changing world surging at his doorstep, his dense, otherworldly prose has been greeted with everything from scorn to cynicism, celebration to praise. His unyielding visions of old gods that haunt the realms of the imagination have unsettled some and left others questioning why such overwrought nonsense has appealed to so many. While icons like Stephen King and Guillermo del Toro have accredited their success to his fiction, Hollywood has failed to effectively bring his squirming beasties to the big screen. While rabid fans have scooped up every collection of tales available, the majority of modern horror aficionados know Lovecraft in name only. Few have ever taken the time to pour through his work or sample his sprawling, ungodly nightmares. It's for these very reasons that Frank Woodward's Lovecraft: Fear of the Unknown is such an utterly fascinating documentary. Dissecting the author's upbringing, influences, elaborate writing style, and overwhelming insecurities, Woodward deftly details Lovecraft's significance, lasting contributions, and legacy.
“Fear is the oldest and strongest emotion of mankind.”
Woodward has assembled an impressive circle of writers, filmmakers, and literary critics. In addition to Lovecraft-inspired directors Guillermo del Toro (Pan's Labyrinth, Hellboy, Cronos), John Carpenter (The Thing, In the Mouth of Madness) and Stuart Gordon (Re-Animator, Dagon), the documentary boasts captivating analysis from novelist and comicbook demigod Neil Gaiman, award-winning Indian American expert and critic S.T. Joshi, Professor of Theology Robert M. Price, fantasy author Caitlin R. Kiernan, and acclaimed horror writer Peter Straub, among several others. Each one brings intellectual weight and thoughtfulness to the table, unraveling the man, his mythos, and his enduring appeal. Linked by fittingly deliberate narration by Robin Atkin Downes, they offer up their expertise and opinions without succumbing to rampant adulation. If anything, the documentary plays like a masterclass lecture; a nuanced exploration of the historical and personal roots of Lovecraft's fiction. While that may sound like a polite way of saying the film is dry and boring, it's quite the opposite. Having sat through more glowing, hyperbolic documentaries than I care to count, Woodward's matter-of-fact approach to Lovecraft and his stories is refreshing.
"We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far."
Lovecraft wasn't blessed with modern sensibilities, and Fear of the Unknown doesn't give his cultural shortsightedness a pass. His xenophobia is put into context, particularly by Gaiman and Del Toro, and his background is used to explain the genesis of his personal beliefs, but Woodward never pulls a punch. It's in this regard that the film sets itself apart from others of its kind. No one is interested in placing Lovecraft atop a pedestal; no one is determined to elevate the man to the same level as his fiction. Like Mark Twain and other writers forever embroiled in controversy (merely for reflecting the thinking of their times), Lovecraft is painted as an imperfect visionary, a flawed artist whose work is designed to exorcise the author's deep-seated demons. If anything, the documentary's participants, Straub and Gaiman chief among them, are quite critical of Lovecraft's shortcomings, lending an air of balance to a study that could have easily been an apologist's love letter. The same applies to the author's stylistic choices. While the group of experts Woodward has compiled obviously has an unwavering appreciation for Lovecraft's winding narratives and bubbling descriptions, they're also more than willing to point out his weaknesses and literary vices, essentially hobbling the legend they've gathered to admire. Their measured observations make for a thoroughly engrossing documentary; one that captures both the extent of the man and his labor.
"The most merciful thing in the world is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents."
More story-specific analysis and additional passage readings would have been a boon for zealots like myself -- Lovecraft's "At the Mountains of Madness," a stunning novella I've read at least a dozen times, is introduced and bypassed far too quickly -- but if Woodward's documentary was detailed enough to satisfy every H.P. junkie eyeing this release, it would have to be twenty-six hours long. Likewise, while a bit of time is wasted near the end of the film examining extremists (so-called Cthulhu cultists who genuinely believe in Lovecraft's old gods), the director keeps such tangents to a thankful minimum. Nitpicks notwithstanding, Fear of the Unknown is a rich, informative overview of a man who inadvertently sowed the seeds of modern horror. Its scrupulous panel of filmmakers and experts candidly touch on every aspect of the author's life and times, granting viewers a revealing glimpse behind a very dark and complicated curtain. Honestly, I could have listened to Gaiman, del Toro and their compatriots discuss Lovecraft for another four hours. As it stands though, I'm more than pleased with the documentary as is and would encourage any fan of horror or literature to invest some serious time into what it has to offer.
Inconsistent and unwieldy, Lovecraft: Fear of the Unknown's 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer suffers from a number of issues, most of which can be attributed to the varying quality of its various video sources. Interview segments with Guillermo del Toro and John Carpenter are undermined by harsh noise; shots of Caitlin Kiernan are washed out and a tad soft; Neil Gaiman and S.T. Joshi are besieged by faint artifacting; and Peter Straub looks as if he's been imprisoned in a low-end camcorder. Colors are fairly vibrant and detail is decent, but the transfer's finer qualities only best its DVD counterpart by a small margin. The documentary's budget and Cinevolve's limitations dominate the proceedings, making it difficult to outright enjoy the overall presentation. That being said, cutaway scenes, artwork, historical photographs, insert footage, and a handful of interviews are decidedly stronger and more stable. While digital anomalies still appear, they aren't nearly as debilitating. Still, I doubt anyone will applaud the results. Fear of the Unknown doesn't leap out and scream "high definition documentary!" and certainly won't wow anyone expecting a dazzling picture.
Yes, Fear of the Unknown only offers a Dolby Digital 2.0 mix (at 448 kpbs), but the documentary honestly doesn't require anything more. Aside from Mars' light musical score, the whole of the film rests on its interview segments and Robin Atkin Downes' narration. To that end, voices remain clean and intelligible throughout. Only a few minor normalization and fidelity mishaps spoil the track -- wind hiss interrupts Kiernan on occasion, Straub sounds slightly muffled at times, and Carpenter's comments waver a bit -- but each problem can be traced back to the original recordings. It goes without saying that the LFE channel and rear speakers are given nothing to do, but again, a lossy stereo mix isn't necessarily a deal breaker in this case. Even if the film were blessed with a full-blown DTS-HD Master Audio track, I don't think it would make the experience any more absorbing. It would be a shame if anyone missed such a well-crafted documentary simply because its AV presentation wasn't up to snuff. I'd suggest giving it a spin regardless. You'll forget you're listening to a stereo track the moment you let go and sink into Lovecraft's life and times.
Having braced myself for a barebones disc, I was pleasantly surprised to find the Blu-ray edition of Lovecraft: Fear of the Unknown actually features a generous collection of extended interviews (HD, 75 minutes). As engaging, informative and extensive as the documentary itself, Guillermo del Toro and his Lovecraftian cohorts discuss the author's mythos, his school days, fascination with science, work ethic, descriptive writing style, religious beliefs, xenophobic tendencies, lesser known stories and much, much more (thirty-eight separate topics all told). It's essentially like getting two feature-length documentaries for the price of one. Not too shabby. Rounding out the package is a video-based "Lovecraftian Art Gallery" (HD, 10 minutes), a trailer (HD, 2 minutes), and a "Coming Attractions" reel for a number of Cinevolve releases (SD, 16 minutes).
Lovecraft: Fear of the Unknown isn't the low-budget bore I was expecting. Brimming with thoughtful analysis, sharp critiques, and invaluable information, it meticulously dissects both the man and his mythos. Unfortunately, Cinevolve's Blu-ray release is decidedly less impressive. Though a surprisingly generous supplemental package is a welcome addition, a mediocre video transfer and a Dolby Digital stereo track will sadly frighten potential fans away. Ah well. Those who shrug off the disc's lesser qualities will be treated to an excellent documentary; the tone and caliber of which I hope other genre documentarians are eager to emulate.
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