Revisiting CARNIVAL OF SOULS: Grim and Atmospheric

Halloween in Poland is still an attraction for the few who want to taste the holiday of ghosts, so popular in the United States. Outdoor and club parties, dressing up in costumes and masks, the popular pumpkin decorations, and nighttime horror screenings are slowly taking hold here as well, although it will take some time before all of this becomes common and our own. Carnival of Souls.

For now, Catholic upbringing (or perhaps attachment?) and the Church’s stance stand in opposition to playing with images of monsters and ghouls on the eve of All Saints’ Day. The moment of reconciling one with the other may be closer than many think, especially with the current, progressive pope, but this will not necessarily mean change for everyone, for not all Catholics are alike – there are those who believe (and know) better.

Carnival of Souls from 1962 is, quite accidentally, a film that at a Halloween screening could satisfy both those dressed as vampires and other apparitions and those who prefer to devote themselves to reflection, lighting candles on the graves of loved ones. The film opens with a race that ends in tragedy, during which one of the cars falls off a bridge into a river and sinks to the bottom. The quick reaction of rescuers and attempts to find the car bring no results, but after several hours the sole survivor, Mary, emerges from the water. How she managed to survive is unknown.

The girl, however, quickly recovers and leaves the town, heading to Utah, where she is to take a position as a church organist. Driving at night, she is frightened by the image of a ghastly-looking man behind the window of her car. The apparition will visit Mary several more times, each time saying nothing, yet leaving an increasingly distinct mark on the psyche of the main character, who is being drawn by an invisible force toward a closed amusement park located outside the city.

Directed by Herk Harvey, Carnival of Souls is the only feature film by this creator specializing in documentary and instructional films. Ignored at the time of its premiere, it acquired cult status years later, although even today it is not widely known, unless among horror enthusiasts. But not all of them, as Harvey’s film stands somewhere on the fringes of the genre – it relies neither on special effects nor on cleverly built scenes meant to scare the viewer. It lacks gory moments, and its unhurried pace may put some off long before the finale.

It operates instead through an unsettling atmosphere, evoked by the main character as well as by the musical setting composed of pieces performed on church organs. It frightens with mystery, uncertainty, and a strange sense of unreality – the world we watch seems real, and yet we instinctively feel that something about it is off.

We have an organist capable of stirring the human soul, says a priest about Mary during her organ performance, and earlier we hear from another character that being a musician requires not only reason but also a soul. The problem with Mary is that it is hard to say whether she is simply cynical or whether she just does not have that soul. As if the accident had stripped her of her joy of life, although we do not truly know what she was like before. She treats playing the organ purely as a job and sees the church only as a workplace. Her contacts with other people are limited to the necessary minimum, as she claims she is not seeking closeness with anyone.

There is a certain courage in walking one’s own path, but for many such an attitude, especially toward the church, may seem incomprehensible or even blasphemous. Yet this will not be the reason for her conflict with the priest, but rather Mary’s organ playing, which will have little to do with sacred ritual. She herself will not know what happened to her then, as if something were directing her and she were obeying it involuntarily.

There are more situations in the film that are incomprehensible to her. Leaving a fitting room in a clothing store, she realizes that no one can see or hear her, and she herself is unable to hear anything, although it does not last long. Later, Dr. Samuels tries to help her, reducing everything to trauma after the accident and to the heroine’s imagination. There is also the apparition of the mysterious man with the white face and the eyes emphasized with black, portrayed by the director himself. With each successive appearance he seems to be getting closer to Mary.

It is no wonder, then, that the girl is not overly concerned with the exceptionally intrusive neighbor, Mr. Linden, who clearly wants to get to know her better. What is everyday and ordinary begins to yield to the uncanny with which Mary is contending. There is no place here for a typical horror-style battle with demons; the division into good and evil seems pointless. The ghosts chase the heroine, but just as in the case of people, judging them unequivocally misses the mark. A ghost does not have to be evil simply because it is a ghost.

The strength of Carnival of Souls lies in the aforementioned organ music, accompanying the heroine at almost every step, as if death itself were walking right beside her. Perhaps Mary managed to get out of the sinking car, yet at the same time she left the accident site being on the border between life and death, leaving behind a part of herself. She wanders as someone living, though without life, trying to understand what is really happening to her. Candace Hilligoss, who plays Mary, finds a balance between confidence and confusion. She does not care about earning the sympathy of the viewers, because it is unnecessary; the situation she finds herself in already seems to make her a victim, and her uncertainty and fear are passed on to the audience as well.

Harvey’s film is said to have been a strong inspiration for such directors as George A. Romero and David Lynch. Traces of Carnival of Souls can also be found in the works of James Wan, seemingly confirmed by the inclusion of a fragment in Insidious: Chapter 2. It is an example of cinema that appears uneventful, yet during and after the screening permeates the viewer. It is not a source of deep reflections (which does not mean it is mindless), nor does it give the sense of communing with a masterpiece, although in terms of execution it is at least a competently made film.

It captivates, however, with its extraordinary atmosphere, causing the viewer to experience something comparable to attending a funeral ceremony. The black and white of Harvey’s work fits such an atmosphere like a well-tailored suit on the body of a deceased.