Review: Crimson Peak
"Ghosts are real," begins Guillermo del Toro's Crimson Peak, and the first image we see is that of Mia Wasikowska's Edith Cushing, pale as the snowy landscape that surrounds her. Her left cheek bears a slice and her left hand is outstretched and covered in blood. What has happened? What has she done?
Del Toro is a fantasist par excellence who has infused elegance and sophistication into the horror genre without sacrificing the gore. There is a surfeit of blood that runs through Crimson Peak, and there are most certainly ghosts, but as Edith states early on in the film, this is less a ghost story than a story with ghosts in it. This is del Toro's lavish take on the gothic romance, and he and co-screenwriter Matthew Robbins make this fairly explicit, referencing all manner of influences, both visually and narratively, from Jane Austen's Jane Eyre, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, and Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca to Jack Clayton's The Innocents and the Hammer Horror films. (Edith's surname is most surely a nod to Peter Cushing, who played Baron Victor Frankenstein and Professor Van Helsing in the series of films produced by Hammer Film Productions.)
Edith is a young woman living with her industrialist father (Jim Beaver) in a well-appointed home in turn-of-the-century Buffalo, New York. Though highly eligible, she resists being pinned down by the romantic attentions of childhood friend Alan McMichael (Charlie Hunnam), who has turned into a handsome doctor. Edith would rather concentrate on her writings as she is intent on becoming the next Mary Shelley. Already a strange presence amongst her husband-hunting peers, Edith is also a believer in ghosts, having encountered the terrifying spectral form of her deceased mother when she was a young child. "Beware of Crimson Peak" was her mother's warning.
Perhaps her mother should have warned her against dashing British baronets as well. Edith crosses paths with one such aristocrat, Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston), who mesmerises her with his flattery and acceptance of the spirit world before seeking her father's backing for a clay harvesting machine. Her father, who worked his way up in the world, takes an instant dislike to Sharpe, deeming him a Little Lord Fauntleroy. Concerned at the growing attraction between his daughter and Sharpe, not to mention the unsettling figure of Sharpe's older sister Lady Lucille (Jessica Chastain), the old man blackmails the siblings with the findings of a detective he hired and sends them on their way, satisfied to have averted disaster for Edith.
Except he has not. After his brutally violent death, Edith swiftly becomes Sharpe's virgin bride and soon finds herself the new mistress of Allerdale Hall, the family mansion Sharpe shares with Lady Lucille. If it was not already plane that something was amiss with the Sharpe siblings, then the sight of the crumbling residence should have set off alarm bells for the inexperienced and lovestruck Edith.
Allerdale Hall is impressive for its decayed grandeur - leaves and snow drift down from the ruined roof, red clay from the mines upon which the house is built seep through the rotting floorboards, moths flutter through the rooms, secrets - not to mention sulphurous phantoms - lurk in the corners of the labyrinthine corridors. Crimson Peak is arguably del Toro's most beautiful film to date, and undoubtedly the most immersive in its attention to the most minute detail. One can discover a thousand delights in every frame of this film, and del Toro and his team deserve ample applause for their superlative efforts.
Numerous mention is made of the animal kingdom - butterflies, moths, parasites - and del Toro and costume designer Kate Hawley extend that into the exquisite outfits which reflect the characters' natures. Edith is swathed in layers of fabric that feature more embroidery and embellishments as Edith becomes entangled in her passion for Sharpe. The white nightgown she wears as she tiptoes through mansion at night is a signifier not only of her virginal status, but also of her emotional and physical vulnerability. It may be no coincidence that the blood does not flow in earnest until sex, specifically endangered sexuality, enters the picture. Female desire has always been the axis on which many a gothic romance has balanced but, unlike most of the genre's tales, Crimson Peak backgrounds its men in favour of its women.
In a role that has Eva Green's name written all over it, Lady Lucille may initially seem out of Chastain's comfort zone. Yet anyone who saw her phenomenal performance in Salomé, in which she delivered a master class in raw carnality, or the icy ruthlessness she displayed in last year's A Most Violent Year, would know her capacity for less wholesome parts. Chastain seethes in Crimson Peak, and her dark voluptuousness dominates the second half of the film. Again, Hawley's costuming is on point: where Edith is cushioned, Lady Lucille is armoured, her boldly coloured gowns often possessing musculoskeletal touches. The film shares many similarities with Philip Haas's 1995 Angels and Insects, not the least of which is the look shared by Chastain and that film's leading lady Kristin Scott Thomas, but most of all in the sumptuous and symbolic wardrobe.
Some, perhaps many, may find that del Toro stays too firmly within the trappings of the genre. It's a valid point - Crimson Peak can come off as old-fashioned and stilted in places - but del Toro achieves the delicate balance of creepy and suspenseful, fashioning a twisted melodrama that haunts because the horrors are all too human.
Crimson Peak
Directed by: Guillermo del Toro
Written by: Guillermo del Toro, Matthew Robbins
Starring: Mia Wasikowska, Tom Hiddleston, Jessica Chastain, Charlie Hunnam, Jim Beaver, Burn Gorman, Leslie Hope, Doug Jones
