Film Review - Lords of Chaos

Film Review: Lords of Chaos

This review has to, really, start with a disclaimer - I don't get on well with biopics. There's been plenty of amazing real life stories that when recreated within the lense of a film camera that have seemed to fall flat. Maybe it's the fact that Hollywood biopics present a fictionalised version of a real event within the auspices of it being a real story, whilst also looking and feeling like a fictional story? Structurally, biopics always seem to have an uneven relationship with narrative structure; they want to engage us on a level we're familiar with whilst presenting life in all of its amorphousness.

Jonas Åkerlund's Lords of Chaos suffers from some order of that same structual awkwardness. The movie follows Oystein "Euronymous" Aarseth, founde of the infamous Norweigan black metal band Mayhem. Starting with their inception in the mid-80s, we see Mayhem's gradual rise into a music scene obsessed with a theatrical form of "darkness" - showmanship that evokes satanism and paganism in the form that it is demonised by Christianity. Quickly, however, Euronymous's rhetoric pushes the band into a situation that spirals out of control.

At its outset, Lords of Chaos presents itself as a movie "based on the facts, the fiction...and what really happened", which is a rather neat way of skirting around the fact that it does not, in fact, know exactly wants to be. When we first meet Euronymous, he's goofing around with his friends whilst a chipper indie-comedy style voice narrates the story. In an upbeat tone, he warns us that the story will "end badly".

The core of the movie is predicated on Euronymous's relationship with two other members of the band Per "Dead" Ohlin and Kristian "Varg" Vikernes: Dead in the earlier half of the movie, whilst Varg taking up the bulk of the latter part. In the part focusing on Dead and Euronymous, there's a youthfulness and carefreeness to the story, as well as the choppy structure associated with biopics wherein they try to capture events in a filmic way that don't have a natural narrative structure. In one pivotal scene, Dead demands that Euronymous shoots him in the head whilst they're hunting a cat in the woods. Åkerlund's light touch makes it difficult exactly to parse what is really happening in this scene - is it funny, serious, intense or just really strange? Is Dead playing into his cultivated persona or is he pushing Euronymous or does he genuinely want to be shot? It's ambiguous in the wrong ways.

And yet, it sort of works. In a running motif throughout, we often see characters watching The Evil Dead, specifically many of its most gory moments. In Evil Dead, and such, the cartoonish and garish violence happens after a build-up, with a flourish; not so with early parts of Lord of Chaos. What are ostensibly genuine horror set-pieces are sprung upon you with a lightness and lack of build-up that make them strange and fascinating. Dead himself is a very strange character, lacking any real narrative arc or easy classification within traditional character archetypes. It's a strange and compelling.

In the latter part of the movie Euronymous and Varg take the centre stage, and it feels more like the movie gets a shape and coherent narrative drive. Anyone familiar with the real life story knows exactly where it is heading, and even if you don't the movie isn't interested in playing it as some sort of mystery. Instead, tension is caused by the inevitability of events that play out.

There's still an ambivalence around exactly what the movie is trying to be, but it is less successful because it feels like Åkerlund knows what he wants the movie to be, but doesn't quite get there. Part of the problem is that both Euronymous and Varg are archetypes in the way that Dead never was, and the result is just broadly less interesting.

One of the stranger decisions made is that the broadest theme of the work is friendship - Rory Culkin plays the part of Euronymous with a sensitivity and vulnerability throughout, seemingly at odds with what the script is actually doing; it fits strangely with his role as a cult leader, possessing a strange almost goblin-esque charisma.  Emory Cohen makes a convincing nerdy fan and a far less convincing violent sociopath. Neither Dead nor Varg have relationships that get enough time to breath for us to properly feel invested in them, and yet many of the major character beats Euronymous has later on is predicated on that idea. After a point the prevailing feeling of the movie is that these are just a bunch of geeks and misfits in over their head. The movie never takes what they are doing particularly seriously, and is far more concerned with humanising them in, frankly, one of the less interesting ways.

As mentioned earlier, this movie is a genre blender of sorts. When what are ostensibly horror set-pieces pop up, they are visceral and often enjoyable in an almost cartoonish manner. At the most basic level, Åkerlund delivers a lot of the tropes that are part and parcel of both genres without the film ever collapsing in on itself and just outright not working. It's not an expert tightrope walk, but he never falls off either.

It is perhaps apropos that this review is sort of as confused as the movie - this is an entertaining and interesting movie. At worst, it's an engaging way to introduce yourself to the genuinely interesting real life events. Also the music is dece'.

Top 10 2018 Reads

You guys know how this works:

Honourable mentions:

Choosing 9 and 10 were really difficult, so pretty much any of the honourable mentions could have gone there. Gregory Frost’s Shadowbridge is a good example – epic fantasy set in a very unique location, and beautifully written. The central device of the story is storytelling itself, and it is full of imagination. The setting is similarly important Ana Kavan’s Ice, which is the story of a man chasing a woman as the world is encased in Ice. It struck me as having echoes of Ballard’s The Crystal World (or most likely vice versa) and there’s an unrelenting cruelty to the story that makes the world more than just a blunt metaphor for heroine addiction (which very much influenced Kavan’s writing). The release of the adaptation of Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House compelled me to finally pick up my copy of it, and what a strange trip that was. It managed to confound expectations I didn’t have, and despite hoards critics proclaiming of “the cliches weren’t cliches when she wrote them!” I found the book very much subverts said cliches rather than indulges in them. Finally, Rocanon’s World by Ursula Le Guin, was also a surprise, in that it was essentially a might whitey story – yet written by one of the best and most thoughtful writers of her time on race and gender. Nonetheless, the mix of fantasy and sci-fi was unique and intoxicating, and something that she’d later go on to perfect.

10  The Life and Extraordinary Adventures of Private Ivan Chonkin by Vladimir Voinovich

Voinovich’s comic romp is one hell of a lot of fun: telling the tale of Private Chonkin, who is so useless that the russian army sends him on a mission to a small village in the middle of nowhere to guard a plane just to get rid of him. The humour of this farce has translated very well – in many ways, it has British sensibilities (think 70s-80s humour). At one point Stalin descends from the sky wearing a dress.

9  The Shadow Years by Jefferey Ford

The Shadow Years is a very odd beast – Ford has literally written a fictionalised account of a year in his late childhood. There’s obvious parallels with It (bildungsroman set in rural america, where something hidden and dark is lurking amongst the community), but there’s not a good way to really describe this book. You could talk about the “prowler” that is hunting people in the town; the old man stalking the main character that appears to be satan himself; the fact that the protagonist’s younger sister seems to be able to control the town’s people; the broken family unit with a constantly absent father and drunkard mother. None of these things really do the book justice. If the book is about anything, it’s about the relationship the protagonist has with his older brother as his older brother becomes a teenager and begins to leave his younger brother behind. A confounding book that stays with me still.

8 City of Exile by Ursula Le Guin

Le Guin’s second Hainish novella is, at its core, a really, really well told fantasy story within a sci-fi setting. It is well written, has great characters and a plot that is structured excellently. The trappings of its unique setting really put it a level beyond, but even without that it’s just a damn good story.

7 Omon Ra by Victor Pelevin

Little Omon wants to be a space man – and he’s going to become one, but his journey there will be a strange, at times brutal and always silly one. Pelevin’s debut novel (more novella, really) is sharp and dark and builds to a tremendous conclusion. Pelevin’s at his baldest here with his satire of russian and soviet society, and the effect is searing.

6 The Red Tree by Caitlin R. Kiernan

When a writer moves to a rural house to seek seclusion after the suicide of her recent long-term, you’ve got a set-up that just screams “horror story”. This is very far from your standard horror, however, although it is legitimately pretty frightening at times. No ghosts or monsters here however: the story revolves around a tree in the grounds of the house, and the long and storied history it carries with it. And, it is no happy one either...

5  Pavane by Keith Roberts

Pavane is a very dry book that goes on and on about details that are often only tentatively relevant to the plot.

And yet, when the characters and stories get going, they’re damn good ones. What’s more, Roberts’ fastidious world building allows extra texture for those stories and characters. The world itself becomes a character, in the way that many stories strive for, but few can make work. Not to mention the way fantastical elements are tiptoed around; there’s always a sense that there is more going on just behind the curtains of reality. The coda, too, is little short of brilliant.

4 The Rift by Nina Allen

Nina Allen’s first novel was third on my list last year, I believe, so she’s making this something of a regular occurrence. The Rift is less Priest-y, but no less good (even better, maybe). Steeped in disquiet, The Rift is a story that’s not exactly willing to give easy answers or straightforward conclusions. What it is, is excellently written and very affecting. The depiction of the relationship between the two sisters is full of ambiguous tension, as is the relationship between the real world and that of Tristane. As depictions of alienation go, I’ve read few better.

3  Deathless by Cathrynne M. Valente

Set in St Petersburgh (then Leningrad, then Stalingrad), Deathless is a retelling of the story of The Death of Kuschei the Deathless, with more than a few tweaks. Valente’s brilliant prose evokes an amazing world, and filled with playful imaginings and an undercurrent of biting satire. It’s the characters that steal the show, however, and Valente’s depiction of the relationship between Maria Morevna and Kuschei the Tsar of Death is complexing and involving. Also, her take on Baba Yaga is one of my favourites pretty much ever.

2  Radiance by Cathrynne M. Valente

Radiance, my second Valente book, was a tough one to start with. It’s a cross between golden age hollywood and golden age sci-fi, the story of directory maker (and daughter of the most famous filmmaker of their age) who goes missing under strange circumstances. The story is told through film clips, conversation transcriptions, journal entries, newspaper articles and more. The lack of straightforward narrative makes the story a difficult one to sink into at first, but when you get into the groove, an incredible portrait of a character emerges, spiced with brilliant writing, heavy with imagination and brimming with ambiguity.

(I think I rather like Valente).

1.   The Drowning Girl by Caitlin R. Kiernan

If you’ve talked to me this year, you’ve heard me talk about this book. Unsettling, compelling and intense; Kiernan’s most widely acclaimed book is difficult to put into a single genre, and entirely involving. When I stopped reading The Drowning Girl, it refused to leave my head. Even at work I could feel cold presence of Eva Canning lurking nearby…

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?

Book Review - Crackpot Palace by Jeffrey Ford

Jeffrey Ford first came to my attention via the first story in this book. Along with Joyce Carol Oate's Fossil Figures, Polka Dots and Moonbeams was a real standout in Sarrantonio and Gaiman's anthology Stories. An unexpected slice of period piece, Polka Dots and Moonbeams mixes a swift cocktail of love, addiction and existential uncertainty within a backdrop that feels fresh. It's menacing, ambiguous yet strangely beautiful at times too.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, this story appears to be very much in one of the two major veins which Ford writes. In this, he creates a fantasy setting borrowing from periods that aren't necessarily - most commonly doing his own very specific flavour of Dickensian steampunk. Like his earlier trilogy The Well-Built City, they are often concerned with ideas of uncanny science as can be seen in stories like Daltharee and The Dream of Reason. Both of these stories concern that of a mad scientist, and their strange and rather sinister approach to science they contain an eerily convincing quality. The Dream of Reason particularly is another stand-out from the collection. 

Also in the darkly-Dickensian setting are Doctor Lash Remembers and Daddy Longlegs of the Evening. Both are excellent examples of Ford's ability to tread between the uncanny and outright horror - the latter notable for retaining its atmosphere whilst indulging in an enjoyably pulpy tone.

When taking on more conventional genres, Ford's stories are no less unique. Sit the Dead is an excellent vampire romance, and Coral Heart is a very strange take on heroic fantasy. The longest story in the collection is Wish Head, a murder mystery about a beautiful young woman's body that is washed up in a local river. It's melancholic and sinister, and surprisingly one of the fastest reads in the whole book despite being the longest. It's preoccupation with strange symbols is echoed somewhat by Relic, a story about lies and faith.

When he's not writing quasi-period pieces, Ford tends towards a high unique blend of the fantastical and the autobiographical. Down Atsion Road, The Double of My Double Is Not My Double and The War Between and Heaven and Hell Wallpaper are all examples of this. Another real standout from the collection is also in this: Every Richie There Is is almost not fiction at all, by the author's own admission, but it's a haunting snapshot of a life glimpsed out of the corner of your eye. 86 Deathdick Road, meanwhile, is disturbing in a way I've rarely encountered outside of the works of Richard Shearman.

It's not all darkness and melancholia: short stories like The Seventh Expression of the Robot General and After Moreau are playful and funny. 

The final standout in the collection is Ganesha, a story about a young woman and a Hindi deity. The story of faith and self-actualisation exudes pathos, and expresses the core concepts in a highly creative and interesting manner.

Crackpot Palace is an excellent collection, full of great ideas and unique atmosphere. Not every single story lands, but most do. Worth a read, especially if you're a fan of the works of writers like Kelly Link and Michael Swanwick.

Book Review - Pavane by Keith Roberts

Oft cited alongside Lest Darkness Fall and Bring the Jubilee as one of the all-time great alternate histories, Pavane is set in a world where Great Britain is part of the New Roman Empire and the Catholic church has a stranglehold over the West as a whole.

Structurally, Pavane isn't quite a novel nor is it a collection of novellas. It walks a line between both - six interconnected stories that slowly unveil a world both recogniseable and otherwise. Each story is self-contained enough to be enjoyed alone, from small, quiet stories of people living lonely lives to tales of rebellion and civil warfare. Together, they weave a spellbinding tapestry of power, religion, tradition and technology.

Although there are recurring characters in a few of the stories, the through-line is expressed in the world. The smaller stories take place against a world that is changing slowly, and each story exposed different elements of that world. In each story the nature of the setting is important to both the plot and the characters, and as with the best world building they both seem extensions of the world itself, whilst remaining individually interesting.

The tales within Pavane are more in line with historical or period pieces, compared to any sci-fi or fantastical plot lines. All of the speculative elements are not confined to the world however. Traditional folk lore is worked into the story in subtle ways that leave the precise nature of the world ambiguous. They help bring together both the tension of new versus old, whilst also blurring the divisions between the two. It is the foreign powers that is keeping Britain all but feudal, but even more ancient ideas religion and spirituality in Britain remain.

At its heart, however, is the characters and their emotional journeys. The setting and all of its atmosphere are backdrops to stories of lonelines and tragedy. At their best they are bittersweet, with a dash of pathos scattered throughout. The Signaller and The White Lady, specifically, were my favourite of the novellas.

Stylistically, Roberts takes his time. He isn't rushed. The writing is detailed. To get the most out of this novel you have to be ready to sink into a story full of detail and often slow to get going. In most cases that would make the writing too stiff and dry, but Roberts imbues it with a sense of melancholy and wistfulness.

Pavane is a beautifully written and evocative book. Highly, highly recommended.

Top 10 Best Books of 2017

The best books I read last year! Hon. mention to Uprooted, which was a very excellent time.

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10. Harbinger of the Storm Aliette de Bodard

Do you like fun? Harbinger of the Storm balances political intrigue, an exotic and fascinating culture, magic and even a bit of metaphysics against each other brilliantly. It's really a cracking read.

9. Hothouse by Brian Aldiss

Thickly detailed and inventive, Hothouse is quite the journey. Through the eyes of a couple of post-humans we see a world where the whole world has been taken over by plants. It's detailed and rich, and genuinely rather fun and scary at times.

8. Jack Glass by Adam Roberts

Three locked door murder mysteries, and in each case Jack Glass is the killer. So whodunnit? (Hint: it was Jack Glass).

This book was definitely too clever for its own good, and Roberts can't quite deliver on the promise on a couple of the mysteries. Still a great book, fueled by ideas, in turn funny and dark. Genuinely sad that it's unlikely we'll not get another book with the characters and world again.

7. Babylon by Victor Pevelin

Ridiculously quotable, funny and absurd; Babylon (or Homo Zapiens or Generation P) is a hell of a strange trip. Filled with drugs and the guiding voice of Che Guevara, it has a very strong post-soviet union feel to it.

6. The Short and Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz

Following the titular Wao and in his family, Diaz weaves an absurd and bittersweet tale. It's filled with asides about Puerto Rican society and recent history, all the whilst demonstrating how Wao's geeky proclivities help shape his views of the world. There's just a dash of the fantastical sprinkled on top too.

5. The Race by Nina Allan

I'm actually shocked this is this far down the list to be honest - The Race is a story soaked in ambiguity and an underlying sense of menace. Christopher Priest style narrative trickery turns a novel about a woman's relationship with her brother into a story that unsettles just as much as it pleases.

4. Wylding Hall

Wylding Hall is bright, airy and very pretty. It's tragic and poignant. It's also a haunted house story. I mentioned in an earlier list that Hand accomplishes an incredible tightrope walk in this story, and I'm not sure that I need to say anything else.

3. God Bless You, Mr Rosewater

Like many of the best satires, Vonnegut's God Bless You, Mr Rosewater is probably more relevant today than it's ever been. Terrifically funny, dripping with cynicism and genuinely moving in parts, this novel has a strange resonance with Catch-22. Possibly my favourite Vonnegut.

2. The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break

A little slice of Americano, helmed by the great beast from ancient Crete. The attention to detail that makes the situation way more believable than it should do and the vulnerability of the narrative voice both cause the book to come to life.

1. The Iron Dragon's Daughter by Michael Swanwick

To say that there's nothing I've ever read that is quite like The Iron Dragon's Daughter may sound trite, but it's also entirely accurate. The novel is strange and unexpected and totally beguiling, not to mention brilliant.

Top 5 Worst Reads of 2017

List number three, and this is the spicy one:

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5. Voice of Our Shadows by Jonathan Carroll

There's a lot of individual elements to this story that are rather good - a great first chapter and some memorable set-pieces - but it genuinely seems unfinished. About halfway through the story kind of loses direction, some more things happen that don't appreciably effect anything, then there's a very sudden ending which is massively disappointing.











4. The Falconer by Elizabeth May

In a sense putting The Falconer on this list at all is rather harsh - it's not really like its outstandingly bad. But it's not outstandingly anything, just kind of exists, and that kind of mediocrity is much worse than other books that have many more flaws. This is a shrug of a book.













3. World War Z by Max Brooks

Filled with really great concepts, and a few characters whose stories could be interesting, this book takes a fantastic premise and renders it a slog by being less interested in telling a story and more interested in largely irrelevant minutiae.













2. The Sorcerer to the Crown by Zen Cho

Charming for a while, but uninspired. I'm generally not a fan of period fantasy, but this is quite easily the worst example of it I've encountered. Paced really awkwardly, structured poorly and one I came very close to not finishing.













1. Bloodlines by Claudia Gray

This was just hot garbage.

Top 5 Most Disappointing Books of 2017

Second list reflecting on last year's reads, and this time it's the five most disappointing ones. Again, just because it disappointed me doesn't mean I didn't like it or thought that it was bad. Number three especially is a good book.

Honourable mention goes to Sharp Ends; Joe Abercrombie's writing doesn't seem to fit short form at all.

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5. Smiler's Fair by Rebecca Levene

I was excited about this book going in, and even more excited after a devastating prologue. The writing was good, the characters were engaging, the world was drawing me in and I dug the premise quite a lot. It felt creative and rather fresh. Then it all rather fell apart at the end, becoming contrived and somewhat pointless. Still going to give the sequel a look though.











4. Throne of Jade by Naomi Novik

I reeeeeally want to like this series. Novik, as I saw with the surprisingly excellent Uprooted, is a great author, and the world these books explore is great fun. Throne of Jade was meandering and somewhat mundane, and I really had trouble particularly getting invested in either Laurence or Temeraire.

3. The Thing Itself by Adam Roberts

This book rather suffered from a case of raised expectations: Roberts is a superb author, and the concept behind this book seemed fantastic. Although the central plotline in the book was mostly really fun and atmospheric, the consistent interruptions of other side stories drained all sense of narrative drive from proceedings. The end didn't help either.











2. The Magicians by Lev Grossman

For a while The Magicians really pulled me into its world, developed a compelling will-they-or-won't-they. Roughly halfway through the book it takes quite a big step in terms of the actions of the characters, and never quite took me with it. By the end this book felt like an obligation, and the way so many of the interesting and ambiguous early ideas were explained later on felt rather simplistic and unimaginative - not to mention the character arcs that Grossman believes he's taking the characters on never really works.








1. Land of Laughs by Jonathan Carroll

You know, about halfway through this book I was convinced that with Carrol I'd happened across a new potential favourite writer. I ordered a couple of his other books before I finished this one.

This was a mistake.

Land of Laughs has some arresting scenes, some creepy ideas, characters that it is easy to invest in and a charming narrative voice. It's also not very good at all.