Experimental Film

Experimental Film Kindle Edition by Gemma Files (Author) From Ghost Watch to The Blair Witch Project to The Poughkeepsie Tapes, found footage horror has always been one of my favorite horror tropes. I'd never thought that a book could carry the format! Wow, was I wrong. Gemma Files is one of the up and coming horror authors, in the same league as Darcy Coates and Stephen Graham Jones. She, with deft hand, manages to take the concept of found footage and create a brilliant bit of literary horror. The story of Lois, a former teacher of film in a diploma mill, movie reviewer, and movie maker, who discovers an unknown Canadian film maker. She is also the mother of Clark, a young boy on the Spectrum. She begins a quest to put the investigation into Mrs. Iris Dunlopp Whitcom, her life, work, mysterious disappearance to film. Whitcom resembles another obsessed widow, Sarah Winchester. As Lois works, her own life begins to reflect Whitcom's own. The writing is amazing. It reads like both the script to one of these found footage films and one of the best literary horror novels in years. Lois, her son- Clark (Ms. Files must like DC just a wee bit), he husband, and everyone orbiting her – including the villain of the piece – are well-drawn and well-fleshed out. Ms. Files makes the story twist and turn, bringing in the feel of both folk horror and the epistolary novel formats. The horror is unique, combing ancient paganism, modern (and not so modern), film-making, and the overwhelming struggle that comes with raising a child with special needs. Readers learn more about all of this while the tension grows in the story. An amazing book that fits tightly into Ms. Files own universe of an alternate Ontario, Canada. Every fan of horror should take the time to plunge head first into this book 5 stars out of 5 https://www.amazon.com/Experimental-Film-Gemma-Files-ebook/dp/B08F9NT1K7/

I loved this book. The description reminded me of "The Last Movie" podcast, and I was not disappointed; it's every bit as mysterious, suspenseful, and horrific without the annoying voices of Season 2. I particularly enjoyed the Canadian setting. It's an atmospheric masterpiece, deftly juggling Lois the protagonist's work life of film journalism with her home life, where she's the mother of a challenging autistic boy. Her somewhat narcissistic mother is always full of impractical advice, but husband Simon helps a great deal with this balancing act, getting more drawn into her world as the story progresses. *SPOILERS AHEAD* The writing flows so smoothly that it was a jolt when the author seemed undecided about who has the phone at a pretty crucial point. She makes a point of Simon saying he doesn't have his phone (which seems odd anyway for this couple) so Lois lets him use hers to make a call. A contradictory passage follows in which Simon's getting messages on his own phone while Lois has hers as well, and this confusion persists throughout the scene. None of this phone confusion is essential to the plot, but it's distracting, and editing for continuity could have caught this and cleared it up. There are also some homophonic errors toward the end ("poring" vs "pouring") that one more round of edits could have fixed. Despite this, the rest of the book is a well-edited, thoroughly engrossing story. I would definitely read other work by this author.

The plot was great and definitely something I had not read before. However, it had the pace of a snail. There was also a lot of name dropping of Canadian film makers that I had no clue who they were.

I was pleasantly surprised by how well-written this Weird tale turned out. I see no need to post a synopsis, because you can read that elsewhere, so I'll just list some of the positives: -This book has an engaging premise, one that hooks you, even from the first page. -Engaging subject matter; the film trivia is presented seamlessly, in a prose style that is smooth and modern but not condescending or careless -Rich, detailed characters who behave in accordance with their personalities and values (as opposed to being manipulated by puppet strings) -a slow-burn dread that accumulates fluidly, with scarcely any blood or gore (I think someone vomited once. Even so, it was presented elegantly.) -realistic, modern dialogue -immersive description of Toronto and Canada in general, with regards to settings, industries, and healthcare. I was transported from my home in Boston to the web the author had woven. -mention of the Armenian genocide -moments of unexpectedly sublime prose. I had to reread some of the passages because of how prose-poetic they were. This book deserves a reread. After reading this book, I have higher standards for all living authors. And this author makes it look effortless. I don't know what else to say, except that I'm sad this book isn't more well-known. I just wanted to express my gratitude for a competent author like Gemma Files, and I can't wait to see what she writes next, regardless of genre.

I had been circling Gemma Files Experimental Film for a while before finally picking it up. I’m not sure what stayed my hand, but I think it was something in the synopsis that made me wary. It might be that the synopsis is so darn long. It might be that it puts the emphasis on Lois as a mom, or that it seems to indicate that a large part of the central conflict in the story will be protecting a child, neither of which appeal to me. Whatever the case, I put Experimental Films aside again and again, only to come back to it because there was something intriguing about it that I couldn’t quite quit. I like the idea of haunted film. The ancients thought mirrors were a window to another world. And what is a film but a dim reflection of reality, capturing images of the long dead, presenting worlds unknown and otherwise unknowable? And the film in this book is an old one, very old, locked on silver nitrate film, a medium so flammable that it cost many a life in the early days of the cinema. So what the heck, I thought. Why not give it a shot? I’m certainly glad I did. First of all, it turns out my initial concerns were wholly unfounded. Lois is much more than a mom. Her domestic situation plays a role in the book and is, at times, one of the things that motivates her, but it is largely in the background. Lois is an independent woman pursuing a mystery that is obscure and potentially world-changing all at once. On the trail of a film from the earliest days of movie-making that seems to portray a forgotten Wendish god (obscurity squared you might say), Lois finds herself locked in a struggle of Lovecraftian proportions. Compellingly readable and filled with interesting tidbits about movie culture, this winding tale will keep you on the edge of your seat from the opening title to the final credits. Definitely recommended. P.S. If you enjoyed this book, check out Cigarette Burns, one of my favorite entries from the excellent Masters of Horror series.

This book felt like the exact thing that the story was revolved around: an experimental film. The story felt experimental and choppy. I didn’t like the main character. I couldn’t connect to her. The noonday lady wasn’t scary. Overall, very disappointed

I highly recommend this book for people who like horror stories that build gradually and deliver their punch through atmosphere and character rather than gore. It also makes very good use of mythology; if “Lady Midday” is not an actual folklore deity, She should be. The book reminds me strongly of Elizabeth Hand’s stories, particularly Waking the Moon, which also features a malevolent goddess. As anyone who has read Hand’s novels knows, that comparison is high praise for Files. The book draws its special strength from the mystique of early film, those old black-and-white tales that manage, obviously-fake (yet somehow very effective) fog and all, to be scarier to many of us than most modern CGI-enhanced full-color bloodfests. A quote from Maxim Gorky that opens the novel says it all: “Last evening I was in the Kingdom of the Shadows. If one could only convey the strangeness of this world. A world without colour and sound. Everything here—the earth, water and air, the trees, the people—everything is made of a monotone grey. Grey rays of sunlight in a grey sky, grey eyes in a grey face, leaves as grey as cinder. Not life, but the shadow of life. Not life’s movement, but a sort of mute spectre.” In addition, the film in this story is made on silver nitrate stock, which apparently burns explosively if you so much as look at it crossways—a quality that proves to be central to the plot. A third virtue is the complex personality of Lois Cairns, the main character/narrator. It is clear from the beginning that she is not a healthy or a happy woman—though just how unhealthy and unhappy do not become apparent until later. She certainly has a lot on her plate: a job (as a local film critic) that is marginal in both pay and fulfillment, migraines and several other physical problems, and an autistic son. She is not particularly saintly about any of these, which makes her easy to sympathize with, if not necessarily to like. As she says at one point, “I’m a lot of things…. None of them are ‘nice.’” However, this description by her friend and former student, Sophie Hewson, is also accurate: “She’s weird, that’s for sure; always has been. But weird in a good way. Like she cares too much.” An important part of the story involves ways in which Cairns’s life and personality become entangled with, and echo, those of Iris Whitcomb, the enigmatic woman whose early films and disappearance she is investigating. Another thread, partly motivating Cairns’s persistent attempts to solve the mysteries surrounding Whitcomb and her work, is her hope that making a documentary about Whitcomb will add meaning to her own life. Files’s writing is also excellent, without being obtrusive. For example, this is her description of an art installation in which Cairns temporarily becomes trapped: “It wasn’t music, exactly. Just tones and drones and spatters of muffled dialogue; conversations filtered through the walls, noise and effects overlaid to create some sort of ever-moving internal landscape of almost-glimpsed sequences. And when the passage finally widened, giving way to a room beyond, things didn’t much improve: the blackness was total, womblike, with no hint of which direction to turn. I stumbled with hands out, feeling my way, constantly afraid that I was going to encounter something else that would grip me and pull me into… what, I don’t even know. Another dimension, some dreadful night-time abyss. The silent, dust-piled bottom of some long-dried ocean full of skeleton fish and glowing, floating jellies, blind seekers with mouths open wide, waiting to bite down and swallow.”

I'll be honest, I had a tough time with this book. I've still never finished it and I don't know that I will. Maybe it was just my headspace; I don't know why I couldn't appreciate it. Great writing, interesting story. It did get super technical at times and I'm guessing the photography world loves it and I wouldn't be surprised if there was a cult following out there. I don't know. I'm going to hold on to it and try again some time.