Crowley's Discourse

By the way, here’s what Crowley says about the murders in Whitechapel:

"Technically, I digress; but I cannot refrain from telling her favourite story…. Mabel had … divided her career with a very strange man whose career had been extraordinary. He had been an officer in a cavalry regiment, a doctor, and I know not how many other things in his time. He was now in desperate poverty and depended entirely on Mabel Collins for his daily bread. This man claimed to be an advanced Magician, boasting of many mysterious powers and occasionally demonstrating the same. [somewhat in the ilk of Crowley himself.]

“At this time, London was agog with the exploits of Jack the Ripper. One theory of the motive of the murderer was that he was performing an Operation to obtain the Supreme Black Magical Power. The seven women had to be killed so that their seven bodies formed a ‘Calvary cross of seven points’ with its head to the west. The theory was that after killing the third or the fourth, I forget which, the murderer acquired the power of invisibility, and this was confirmed by the fact that in once case a policeman heard the shrieks of the dying woman and reached her before life was extinct, yet she lay in a cul-de-sac with no possible exit save to the street; and the policeman saw no signs of the assassin, though he was patrolling outside, expressly on the look-out.

“Miss Collins’ friend took great interest I these murders. He discussed them with her and Cremers on several occasions. He gave them imitations of how the murderer might have accomplished his task without arousing the suspicion of his victims until the last moment. Cremers objected that his escape must have been a risky matter, because of his habit of devouring certain portions of the ladies before leaving them. The lecturer demonstrated that any gentleman in evening dress had merely to turn up the collar of a light overcoat to conceal any traces of his supper.

“Time passed! Mabel tired of her friend, but did not dare to get rid of him because he had a packet of compromising letters written by her. Cremers offered to steal these from him. In the man’s bedroom was a tin uniform case which he kept under the bed to which he attached it by cords. Neither of the women had ever seen this open and Cremers suspected that he kept these letters in it. She got him out of the way for a day by a forged telegram, entered the bedroom, untied the cords and drew the box from under the bed. To her surprise it was very light, as if empty. She proceeded nevertheless to pick the lock and open it. There were no letters; there was nothing in the box, but seven white evening dress ties, all stiff and black with clotted blood!”

Now you know the story of From Hell as reconstructed by Aleister Crowley. Go out and by the graphic novel. It's huge and expensive, it's graphically sexual, and extremely gory, but it's thrilling, and intelligent.

Crowley, Aleister, et al. The Confessions of Aleister Crowley. Grant, Kenneth and John Symonds, eds. Arkana Press: London, 1979. 691-692.

Of Doctors and Whores

What can one say about From Hell? It is an intensely cerebral, thoroughly engrossing book which attempts to reconstruct the events of history using all available information and some conjecture in between. Very little has been fabricated, and much care has been taken to examine critically the secondary sources available on the subject. The subject is, of course, the gruesome Whitechapel murders of 1888. Few serial killers have been so bold and public about their clear misogyny.

One of the most intriguing things about this books is its quixotic portrayal of the killer. Many people might interpret the murder of prostitutes as a crime of sexually repressed passion mixed with some perceived slight made by prostitutes on the whole because of their liberal sexual natures and world views. In this way, to many people, Jack the Ripper is similar to Robert Pickton, who should have been called the “Vancouver Ripper” or “Robert the Ripper” or some other dehumanising name by the press. Writers Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell beg to differ. While the subject of sex is certainly dealt with in a very explicit fashion in From Hell, it becomes quite apparent that the murderer’s motives run far deeper than mere sexual frustration. However, sexual frustration does enter into the mixture of the question “what makes a murderer?”. One of the most clear pieces of conjecture in the piece is the size of the murderers … weapon, shall we say, which is conjectured to be so enormous as to have completely ruined his wedding night. (Yes, boys, size does matter.)

The goal of From Hell is to examine the Whitechapel murders. As Dr. Gull – the anticipated killer – puts it, “A GREAT work must have many sides from which we may consider it.” The most potent side, in my opinion, from which this illustrated penny-dreadful-cum-serial-novel would examine this “great work” is that of its occultic motives. Dr. Gull, like many men in London and indeed around Vancouver today, was a Freemason, and was therefore privy to the mythic/symbolic history of the world from which many of us have hidden our faces. (I could write at quite a length on the foolishness of thinking astrology has any less significance than physics or psychology. There is nothing more humanly powerful than symbol, as the Third Reich will attest, and it does us no end of harm to deny that.)

Anyway, as a result of Dr. Gull’s involvement with the Masons, he is privy to much more information about the construction of London than would be, for example, a coach driver or a police chief without having been inducted into the guild. It is this history that is the subject of chapter four, entitled “What Does God Require of Thee?” which is written almost entirely in verse.

One difference between the film and the book is that the film actual depicts some progress on the part of the police. The book does no such thing. The police are as stumped at the end as they are in the beginning. Everyone who knows exactly what is happening (i.e. all the Masons) knows exactly what is happening, and everyone who hasn’t been informed does not.

The reason for such secrecy is this: it seems Queen Victoria had a rather errant grandson who liked to spend his time on sweet-shop girls and brothel boys. He was married to a sweet shop girl who bore him a daughter, and was later implicated in a male brothel scandal, both of which needed to be quickly covered up. Because the sweet shop girl was acquainted with one of the whores in question, the knowledge of the child could easily have been passed about, if – for example – there were someone in her circle of friends in desperate need of money.

As a result, it is conjectured that Queen Victoria ordered the murders, the Masons covered them up, and that Dr. William Gull – the royal physician – performed the rituals. I find this thinking in astounding coordination with history and architecture. The moral here is clear: learn everything you can, because someone else is already using it against you. The theory of black magick is hammered home in the narrative by the appearance of Aleister Crowley at age fourteen in chapter nine. The lad is sucking on a candy cane (something Crowley was known for himself, if I’m not mistaken) and berates Inspector Abberline for ignoring the possibility of black magick. On page four of chapter nine, the center panel is wholly reminiscent of Crowley’s own photograph appearing on page 768.4 of The Confessions of Aleister Crowley taken just prior to his death. In addition, one of the quotes which opens chapter nine is from this self same book. It is with this kind of referential treatment that Moore and Campbell construct their story, and masterfully.

You know, one thing I noticed in reading this and watching Sweeney Todd is that no one who lived in London at the time seems to have had anything to say regarding the rancidness that was London. I think the closest literature we’ve got to describing the squalid conditions of London at the time in our anthology might be contained in Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s “The Burden of Nineveh.” I guess it just goes to show you what a democratic society can produce. Royals have a habit of killing their detractors.

Also, one wonders at the significance for twelve years after the 1900s that these grotesque rituals occurred twelve years before the beginning of the 1900s. Nineteen, after all, is the number of the Sun, as depicted by the Tarot. If Moore’s and Campbell’s discourse on sun deities is accurate (and believe me it is) then this could be extensively significant to 2012.

Anyway, keep watching the skis.

Ivy

Crowley, Aleister, et al. The Confessions of Aleister Crowley. Grant, Kenneth, and John Symonds, eds. Arkana Press: London, 1979. 768.4.

Timothy the Bloody

Oh my Gods! I just watched Sweeney Todd, and I think I'm going to have to go back to therapy. It is, without a doubt, the single most graphic, goriest film I have ever seen. There was red paint EVERYWHERE! My girlfriend gouged her eyes out and howled like the Bean Sidhe at the end ... or wait, was that me?

Anyway, with a cast like Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, and Alan Rickman it's hard to go wrong. Except that teaming Rickman with that guy who plays Wormtail is, and will forever be, a reference to Harry Potter. I'm not sure I understood the connection, and I'm not sure the casting director understood the connection, either.

Gothic master Tim Burton, of course, did the direction, and it's got his signature illness written all over it. I was shocked to see such gore from Burton who usually doesn't need to sensationalise his films. This is, on the other hand, opera (and opera of the very first order), and opera is expected to be sensational and spectacular.

Depp plays the part of Sweeney Todd so well, that you find yourself sympathising with him. He has been wronged, and is out for revenge, and because of Depp’s intense portrayal, you believe he should get it. His singing is rife with conviction and single-mindedness, and beautifully portrays the ardent passions of a man overthrown of reason and a slave to his own torment.

Rickman plays the lousy, perverted Judge Turpin a little shyly for my liking. I like my perverts to be dripping with licentious attitude and libidinously hunched, drooling, if possible, over the merest glance at a woman. We need a little something more, I think, to drive home the reality about his relationship with his charge, and I know Rickman is capable of it. But who knew that Alan Rickman could sing? And he does. In a growling bass-baritone that makes you ever more ashamed to have a crush on him. (And in the end, isn’t it the shame you feel over your crush on Rickman that makes it really hot?)

Pretty boy Jamie Campbell Bower (speaking of crushes on men, YUM!) plays the naïve and lovestruck Anthony Hope, and not only because we know the object of his affections is both in the charge of Judge Turpin and the daughter of Sweeney Todd do we really cheer for him, but also because Bower’s interpretation of wide-eyed heroism is so endearing and heartwarming in this blood chilling tale.

Finally, Helena Bonham Carter, who plays Mrs. Lovett so convincingly I never saw it coming. She’s sweet, she’s tender, she’s downtrodden but smart. The perfect Lovett.

Something I hadn't realised before watching this movie is that Sondheim fashioned the story on Moliere's (I think it's Moliere's) "Le Barbiere de Seville" which comes to us more commonly as the opera "Il barbiere di Saviglia" ("The Barber of Seville", in case you're still wondering) by Rossini. The significance of this is two-fold. First, it's why everyone thinks "The Barber of Seville" is a gothic opera, or that Sweeney Todd is the barber of the aforementioned Seville. Second, and much more important, the play by Moliere and the opera by Rossini were very controversial in their times, and were banned in parts of Europe for presenting the revolutionary ideas that the lower class was smarter than the middle class, and more capable in love than the upper class (a very disturbing notion to the aristocracy of Latin cultures). Sweeney Todd is a gothic extrapolation of this theme, whereby the lower class seeks revenge on the middle class for being such anuses.

Anyway, I'm about to fall into a cerebral discussion comparing the Rossini to the Sondheim, and if all else fails (including my mind) I may just do that in order to gloss over the memory of blood spurting from the throats of various London gentlemen. Let me, instead, give a brief overview of the highlights.

The cockroach in “The Worst Pies in London.”

The shaving contest between Pirelli (played by Sacha Baron Cohen) and Todd.

The triumph in the asylum. (I was screaming with joy!).

The extremely gory death of Judge Turpin. (Come on, you knew it was gonna happen.)

The extremely gory death of Sweeney Todd. (You also knew THAT was gonna happen, so don’t bitch.)

The Importance of Being Earnest (2002)

Viewing it as a continuation in the long tradition of 19th century literary adaptations featuring Colin Firth, Oliver Parker’s 2002 rendition of Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest was a film I approached with a certain degree of measured scepticism. While I had no doubt that the film was well intended, the phrase “cash in” persisted in the back of my mind as I pondered whether this adaptation of Wilde’s most famous play could manage to justify its existence against accusations that its makers are simply appropriating a canonical literary work to make a quick buck. Now that the film has been viewed and I am able to arrive at a verdict on the matter, however, I’m disappointed to report that my findings remain inconclusive.

Let’s start with the good: one of the most fortunate qualities of Parker’s adaptation (one which he both directed and wrote the screenplay for) is that the lines of Wilde’s brilliant play are kept almost entirely intact. Although the opening scene develops quite differently in the film as compared with the play, the film version retains its charming banter while utilizing film’s potential to have the scene take place through various locations rather than fixing the characters within a single room. What is equally fortunate is that the film strikes a healthy balance between adapting the play for the film medium without compromising it in the process. This is in no small part due to the film’s all-star cast, who effortlessly navigate Wildean dialogue that would sound unnatural if delivered onscreen by less capable actors. Judi Dench’s Lady Bracknell is especially charming, and one can imagine Dench – beneath her character’s cold demeanour – beaming at the opportunity to deliver Bracknell’s lines, many of which rank among the play’s highlights.


As anyone who has read Wilde’s novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray, will know, Wilde often wrote himself – or at least characters that bore an uncanny resemblance to his own personality and personal philosophies – into his works. Lord Henry from The Picture of Dorian Gray is one such example of this, and certainly Algernon is another. And there is no doubt that Rupert Everett was aware of this fact when delivering his performance as Algernon, as he channels the spirit of Wilde throughout every moment that Algy is on screen. Everett is aware of the mantle his character carries, and he reflects this with the wit and eloquence one expects of a classic Wildean character. It is worth noting that Everett has performed Wilde before, having appeared in a 1999 film adaptation of An Ideal Husband.



So, good performances, preserves all the good things about the original, should be a slam dunk, right? Not so fast. There are a few faults with this adaptation, and these lie primarily in the horrible flashback sequences that come sporadically throughout the film. To read about Jack Worthing’s origin in the play is implausible enough; to see it rendered on screen was laughable, and I think the attempt to do so was a clear oversight by director Oliver Parker. In fact, though there’s no dispute that Parker intended to make a comedy, one might almost accuse his version of being a tad too earnest: he should have been reminded that Wilde’s play was a farce whose resolution serves as the culmination of that farce. In Parker’s film, we leave with a Hollywoodesque reaffirmation that love conquers all, as the film takes a sudden serious turn towards the end as it attempts a satisfactory resolution from the light comedy that preceded it.

A final point I might make against the film is that, armed with acclaimed source material that is virtually guaranteed to self itself, Parker makes little if any attempt to make any personal mark of his own during the course of the film. This is a straightforward (vanilla, if you will) adaptation of a great Victorian play that I would recommend over other film versions of the play only because of the excellent cast this version boasts. It is unlikely to be a revolutionary experience for persons with even the slimmest of Victorian knowledge, and will do little to convert those who are not already interested in Victoriana. That said, the cast is indeed very good, and the play is still as enjoyable as ever. And while the cynic will question whether we need another adaptation of The Importance of Being Earnest, I myself will take this minor film as a welcome excuse to be reminded of Wilde’s skills as a playwright.

Rating: 3 stars
Victorian Cool factor: 5/10

- Kaleim

Parody!!!

This is a great parody of Victorian poets and of Queen Victoria. Look out for some familiar poets! I hope you guys enjoy it! :)

From Hell: detective fiction Victorian style!

The golden age of detective fiction is often said to have occurred during the 1930s, a time when the genre surged in popularity and saw repeated bestsellers from prolific authors like Agatha Christie, a writer who to this day remains virtually synonymous with detective fiction as a whole. However, if the depression era’s need for escapism and a restoration of the principles of law and order paved the way for detective fiction’s success in the 1930s, then the Hughes brothers’ adaptation of Alan Moore’s graphic novel From Hell makes a compelling case suggesting that humanity’s increasing fascination with detective stories can be constructively traced back to the Victorian era.

In fact, the most immediately apparent and aesthetically pleasing aspect of the Hughes brothers’ cinematic representation of Moore’s graphic novel (no doubt helped by the fact that Moore was actually involved in this adaptation of his work: he is listed as having co-written the film’s script) is the gothic rendering of Victorian London’s infamous East end, specifically the Whitechapel district in which the majority of the film’s action takes place. Although possibly at the expense of claims to historical accuracy, the film goes to great lengths to construct Whitechapel as a region which highlights the obscene underbelly of the Victorian age: specifically, Victorian society’s displacement of crime and all vice to particular urban spaces. The film’s focus on the prostitution trade of the Whitechapel district is especially fitting for this purpose, as it further exposes the inherent hypocrisy of the Victorian upper class, who make public claims to moral superiority while indulging privately in corrupt behaviour, something which the Victorian society depicted in From Hell fully sanctions so long as such activities do not spill out from the Whitechapel district where they are expected to remain contained.

Continuing with the subject of urban geography, there are a number of stunning moments in the film where a sign takes on an entirely different connotation in one area of London compared with another. In Whitechapel, passing carriages and even a cluster of grapes are regarded suspiciously; the latter even comes in to play as a clue which allows the protagonist, Inspector Abberline (played by Johnny Depp), to conclude that the killer is a wealthy man who uses the luxurious fruit as a means of seducing his unsuspecting victims. Symbolically the grapes are a nice touch to the film, an enduring trace of the upper class’ trespasses in the Whitechapel area.


At this point I must permit myself to speak briefly about the film’s resolution, which attempts a fictitious imagining of the identity of the killer known as Jack the Ripper. Assuming that the film concludes the same way as the graphic novel, it is clear that Moore is no mere dabbler in Victorian lore. The film’s conclusion is both satisfying and very much to the point. The public atrocities committed by the Ripper are aimed at concealing a greater private shame, and while the Ripper’s victims appear to be random prostitutes, they are in fact aimed at several women who are privy to knowledge that the upper class interests the Ripper represents wish to conceal. Although the brutality of the crimes are attributed to the Ripper’s (played by Ian Holm) sinister nature, the notion that the crimes themselves are intended to suppress a personal scandal (which were all too prevalent during the Victorian era) is a fitting one which upholds the Ripper myth while simultaneously attempting to attach a sense of order to the otherwise chaotic and inexplicable serial murders. Holm’s portrayal of the Ripper recalls another Victorian character, specifically that of Doctor Henry Jekyll, whose irreducible “good” and “evil” personalities are recalled by Holm’s performance.

Ultimately the only fault I could lay on From Hell is the conspicuous absence of the London poor, who are always in the periphery but who one would think ought to be featured more prominently in any film attempting a delineation of the East end. However, perhaps this decision was a conscious one, as the poor’s lack of participation in events occurring in their own geographic space further highlights the Victorian upper class’ role in determining and overseeing East end life. Furthermore, I would add that the scenes in the mental hospital (if one can call it that) go a long way to make up for the absence of the lower classes throughout the rest of the film.

So in conclusion what we have here is a story that, despite being conceptualized nearly 100 years after the Victorian era (Moore’s graphic novel having been published in serial format between 1991 and 1996), is nothing shy of a classic Victorian story in both its concept and its execution. Though one might easily dwell at length about the film’s treatment of prostitution and other Victorian themes, the film’s handling of urban geography alone merits attention for anyone interested in the Victorian era.

Rating: 4 stars
Victorian Cool factor: 9/10

- Kaleim

Corsets, Lace, Ruffles and Big Skirts

The Victorian era was a time full of extravagant styles when looking at women’s fashion. The Victorian era was also a turning point for the field of fashion, with the invention of the sewing machine and the use of vibrant dyes in clothing to create exaggerated colours for the garments.

Early Victorian fashion was less extravagant, with straight long silhouettes and plainer styles. As the years went on the Victorian style evolved into large round hooped skirts ands ruffled sleeves worn mostly by the rich, who thought the clothes to be practical for everyday use.

Unlike the clothing we wear today, Victorian clothing took time and a lot of effort to put on. Each Victorian outfit consisted of layers of garments, which had to be put on under the dress in order to make the outfit complete. First the pantallettes were worn, which was the Victorian version of underwear, only a lot longer and much less flattering. The pantalletes often passed the knees and had ruffles or lace on them. The women also wore a chemise, which is a lose undergarment worn under the corset. Next is the corset, which was designed to create a shapely waist and hips as well as an enhanced bust. The corset was adorned with feminine designs and had ties in the back. After the corset, the petticoat was worn, which was a long lacey skirt worn under the dress to enhance the volume of the dress. Finally the dress is put on, and to complete the outfit many women wore bonnets (a sort of frilly and lacey hat) and gloves.

Victorian fashion may be hard to pull off these days, but certain aspects are being applied to modern styles. Although much of today’s fashion has evolved, Victoriana is still making a comeback in the runways of all the fashion capitals of the world, with current designers using Victorian inspired themes in their collections.

Although Victorian fashion is for the most part extinct, certain aspects of the grand attire is being used in today’s fashion world. Individual pieces, such as corsets, and frilly laced shirts and skirts are being seen more and more.

The corset is a piece of Victoriana that is making a big comeback.Corsets were used as body enhancers warn under a dress in the Victorian era, but in contemporary society, a corset would be warn on its own, with some nice form fitting jeans and stiletto heals to complete the look.

Not only are we seeing more female Victorian styles being applied to modern designs, there is also an incorporation of male Victorian designs being added to modern female outfits. Such as the coats worn by the militia and riding outfits of that era.

Also, if you want to pull off the modern Victorian look, then check out this site
Dress Like Modern a Victorian