For somebody with a professed dislike for the horror genre, I seem to be watching an awful lot of it these days. Funny thing is, if you asked, I'd still say I wasn't a fan - I'm not good with either jump scares or slow-burning tension; I want to be thrilled, but not actually terrified. Increasingly, however, I find it becoming my go-to genre when I want an easy good time, perhaps because it's relatively unmarred by the overblown sentiment and sentimentality that spill over into a lot of tamer sci-fi and fantasy fare.
Pitch Black is another one of those films that I've often seen bits of but never, up until yesterday, actually sat down to watch in full. I was torn over it for a long time, aware it contained some beautiful cinematography but put off by the creature feature subgenre pigeonhole. I'd just got home from work, though, and Mr. Beaupepys thought I might like to watch a little something by Ken Russell, possibly because of last night's blue moon. I had to think of an alternative, and think fast, and a little vicarious bloodletting seemed like a fun way to round off the working week.
Let me make one thing absolutely clear: if you want to enjoy Pitch Black you're going to have to be ready to silence your inner nitpicker. If you're worried about things like logic, or scientific accuracy, or human beings behaving like horror movie stereotypes, you'll be in for a thoroughly exasperating couple of hours. I'm not going to spend too much time gazing into the abyssal depths of every plot hole, but you have a planet that gets 22 years of blinding sunshine for each single night of darkness, and yet has managed to evolve an apex predator for whom light is lethal? This is the level of stupidity we're talking about here.
Given the above plus some truly abysmal acting, it'd be easy to assume that the film's only pleasures would be guilty ones. The reality, however, is a little more complex, because honestly, parts of Pitch Black are pretty damned good. The visuals are the obvious candidates here - this is a film about light and darkness, so you'd hope for some neat effects to emphasise the harshness of the planet's decade-long days. You wouldn't be disappointed, either, with bleached, parched footage that dries your mouth just to look at it. Parts of the film are flat-out stunning; one or two shots are honestly as achingly beautiful as anything I've ever seen on screen. Less obvious, however, is some truly nifty sound engineering that really adds to a movie that aims to scare us with what we can't quite see. Oh, and think on this: when did you last see a film with an Islamic good guy? Here, Keith David plays the sort of generic holy man role that would normally be given to an amiable Irish Catholic priest or something, only in this case, in a genuinely progressive move, he's an Imam taking a group of students on a pilgrimage to New Mecca.
I'd probably be remiss if I didn't mention Vin Diesel, so this is me mentioning him. I've noticed that he seems to inspire strong feelings in people - either loathing for the hypermasculine roles he seems to take, or a sort of militant apathy probably born of all those Fast and Furious sequels. Me, I always think of him as the voice of the Iron Giant in the film of the same name, and of Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy, two big, dumb animated sweethearts who first melted my heart and then outright broke it, so yeah, I actually have a fair amount of time for the guy. Here, I liked him as escaped convict Riddick, but as I've previously stated, this really isn't a film to watch for the acting - it's an ensemble piece where everyone's a cliche and each actor is equally culpable.
Don't get me wrong, Pitch Black isn't a work of flawed genius, it's a silly horror film with some compellingly redeeming qualities. That said, just for a little while, I found myself thoroughly enjoying being scared out of my wits, sat tensing myself for the next toothy alien monster to leap out of the darkness. Oh, and it lingered, just a little bit, until late that night, when I was only able to sleep once Mr. Beaupepys had checked the wardrobe to make sure Ken Russell's ghost had gone away.
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