Thoughts on H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Tomb”

It has come to my attention that I have not written about any novels. Though I love the visual splendor of movies and video games, I am still a fan of the printed word. However, since reading a book requires more time commitment than watching a two-hour movie, I have only managed to read a short story.


Many quandaries are spinning through my head after having read “The Tomb”, by HP Lovecraft, one of the most well-renowned and brilliant writers of the twentieth century. What initially hooked me was the way the first paragraph was established. It began with the words “In relating the circumstances which have led to my confinement within this refuge for the demented, I am aware that my present position will create a natural doubt of the authenticity of my narrative. It is an unfortunate fact that the bulk of humanity is too limited in its mental vision to weight with patience and intelligence those isolated phenomena, seen and felt only by a psychologically sensitive few, which lie outside its common experience. Men of broader intellect know that there is no sharp distinction betwixt the real and the unreal;that all things appear as they do only by virtue of the delicate individual physical and mental media through which we are made conscious of them, but the prosaic materialism of the majority condemns as madness the flashes of super-sight which penetrate the common veil of obvious empiricism”. What is fascinating about this premise is that before even telling the story, the narrator gives a reason for deniability in his account. Often times in stories we are presented with an unreliable narrator, but one that is always unraveled by the reader at some point during the story. It is rare to see a story in which from the beginning we as readers have reason to doubt the narrator’s account. This statement, however, is followed by the narrator’s declaration that the “bulk of humanity” is often too easily dismissive, due to its limited scope and understanding of its environment, of phenomenon that would be deemed supernatural or out of the ordinary. He goes on to state that individuals of greater understanding are aware that there is no true distinction between what is real and what isn’t, and that which is tangible to the individual can be viewed as reality. Everything that the individual sees is only a combination of the physical senses and its perception by the human mind. The tragedy highlighted by the narrator is that in a society of matter and “obvious empiricism” where only seeing is believing, the “flashes of super-sight which penetrate the common veil” are condemned as madness. The premise introduces the reader to the narrator and his mentality. The narrator believes himself to be of heightened intellect and understands that everything that he sees he can acknowledge to himself to be real, and that the rest of humanity is misguided in its attempt to deem him insane.

    The narrator introduces himself as Jervas Dudley, an unnecessarily wealthy daydreamer who would spend his childhood “apart from the visible world” and instead buried in books and ponderings. Dudley considers his company to be among the non-living and spent his time by a wilted and haunting hollow tree. By the tree, in the darkest of the hillside thickets lies a tomb of a great and exalted family whose last descendant died long ago, the Hydes. The door to the tomb was rusted shut with the door slightly “ajar”. The family’s mansion was burnt in a fire and only one man perished and the ashes were brought to the tomb. Jervas forms a bower by the tomb where he would spend time sleeping and thinking. He eventually discovers that he is linked to the Hydes family on his maternal side. This stirs the notion that the tomb is for him. One night he finds an old chest in his attic containing the key to the tomb. He unlocks the tomb and finds a grave marked with one word, Jervas. He feels a sense of belonging in the tomb and a realization that his peace and final resting can be found only within the tomb. On one particular visit, he is seen by an unknown observer, but Jervas continues to the tomb anyway. However, upon visiting the dark hillside thickets, Jervas comes across an astonishing sight, the old Hydes mansion was rebuilt and brimming with light and reveling guests. Jervas enters with comfort and familiarity and takes part in the revelries, however at some point, a bolt of lightning strikes the ceiling and the house is set ablaze. Jervas attempts to escape but is burnt to ash. He suddenly finds himself struggling in the arms of two villagers and sees his father looking disdainfully at him. Before being whisked away, Jervas notices a chest containing a statue of a mirror image with an inscription “ J.H” Jervas is taken to an asylum where his father tells him that his visits to the bower were familiar to everyone and that the lock to the tomb was rusted shut and had been for ages. Jervas concludes that he would have resigned to being mad had it not been for his trusty servant within the asylum who broke the lock to the tomb and found within a grave marked with only one word, “Jervas”.

    An easy explanation is that Jervas is clearly insane. On the surface, this story can be seen as a depiction of a troubled mind driven mad by an unsightly tomb. Or it can be seen as the classic story of the person who may be crazy but may be telling the truth, but if we recall the first paragraph of this story, we would be falling in line with the bulk of humanity, dismissing the phenomena that exist outside the common experience, and declaring the perpetrator of the super-sight to be mad. The truth of the story is that whether the events are supernatural is irrelevant, because the story is about only one individual, Jervas. Jervas is the sole pair of eyes by which we witness the events, and from his perspective, everything he has seen exists. If we step back from his view and observe as a skeptic of society, he is crazy. However what Jervas sees is what we see, and what he sees is real to his senses, therefore by the transitive property what Jervas sees is the truth. “The Tomb” is an exploration of thought and perspective as it pertains to the existence of the individual and the faith in society that we uphold. It begs the question of what real truly is. Perhaps there is no real. An individual cannot live in the body of another individual, therefore cannot know if the other individual truly exists. All he knows is that he himself is conscious and him alone. Therefore, on account of his consciousness and existence, everything that he sees and feels can be deemed real to him.


Responsible for such works as The Call of Cthulu, and At the Mountain of Madness, H.P. Lovecraft is known as one of the greatest horror-fiction writers of all time.


Review: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (Spoiler Heavy!!!!) A Lesson in Moral Complexity



Mildred Hayes, played by Francis McDormand, standing with the billboards


Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is Martin McDonagh’s latest home run film. It follows up the masterpiece that is In Bruges by deftly blending dark comedy and dark drama. Featuring one of the most outstanding ensemble casts in recent memory, Three Billboards educates the viewer on how hate can affect one’s life.

The story follows Mildred Hayes, a mother who is dead-set on finding the men who raped and killed her daughter, Angela Hayes. To rile up attention for the case, which has gone on for seven months, Mildred rents three billboards on an unfrequented road and prints the messages: “How Come, Chief Willoughby?”, “And Still No Arrests?”, and “Raped While Dying”. The billboards serve as powerful iconography, especially since they’re really all the information we have about what happened to Mildred’s daughter. We never see the violent act of her death actually happen, and her presence is rarely felt throughout the film. McDonagh conveys the horrific nature of the crime through the ominous presence of the billboards. The camera pans out of order to show the first billboard “Raped While Dying” last in order to create a bigger shock value amongst the audience. Though the boards aren’t very high or very large, they are first seen through low angle shots which gives them a monumental perspective. The backgrounds of the boards are bright red with black text, which are not only eye-catching but also splash the film early with the color of blood. And so, the limited information combined with a showcase of how determined she is to find her daughter’s killer creates an immediate understanding and sympathy for Mildred. Despite all of the harsh or misguided actions she carries out in the film, there is always an element of forgiveness at play for the audience in knowing her pain and suffering. In fact, pain and suffering are factors associated with many of the characters in the film.


Willby and Mildred
Woody Harrelson’s Chief Willoughby has a conversation with Mildred


The billboards draw negative attention toward Chief Willoughby, played by Woody Harrelson, who is a respected officer within the community. Willoughby happens to also be dying of cancer. His relationship with Mildred isn’t antagonistic, and the viewer is made aware that he hasn’t been intentionally neglecting the case, however, Mildred is unflinching in her decision to keep the billboards. In a conversation with Willoughby, Mildred claims that all the men in the country should be put in a database and investigated whenever they’ve committed a crime. It’s clearly preposterous, yet you understand that Mildred wants to see more action from the police department. Her position stands unaltered even with Willoughby’s condition in consideration. To add another piece to the puzzle, Willoughby’s fellow officer, Jason Dixon, played by Sam Rockwell, is an apparent racist and all-around douchebag. He consistently tries to find ways to pressure Mildred into taking down the billboards. The first half of the film serves as an effective look at conflict where both sides have sympathy. There is sympathy for Mildred, played wonderfully by Francis McDormand, as she stands her ground on her daughter’s case. There is also sympathy for Chief Willoughby, who is conscious that his time with his wife and kids is dwindling. Woody Harrelson captures the pain, compassion, and love that embodies Chief Willoughby. In fact, as he appears to be the only one of the three central characters living without hate, his role transitions from an active character to more of an arbiter of wisdom. In a shocking twist, Chief Willoughby shoots himself in the head after spending one last day with his wife and children. In a letter, he explains that he would rather avoid his family having to see him slowly suffer and wither away in a hospital bed. His suicide is advocated by him as an act of bravery, and it shifts the film’s focus towards the redemption arc of Sam Rockwell’s character.


Dixon, played by Sam Rockwell, confronts Mildred


Upon Willoughby’s death, Dixon initially reacts by senselessly beating Red Welby-who rented Mildred the billboards-and throwing him out of a window. When Dixon gets fired for his actions by the new chief, his character seems to be headed towards a downward spiral of potential villainy. When the billboards are burned down, he seems to be a likely suspect. However, when Mildred retaliates by burning down the police station with, Dixon unbeknownst to her, still inside, it creates a symbolic moment where Dixon reads a letter from Willoughby while oblivious of the fires burning behind him. Willoughby’s letter urges him to let go of his anger and the pain in his past and instead work towards becoming a good police officer. When Dixon plunges through the flames with Angela Hayes’s case file, it’s as if the singes and burns on his body become a literal embodiment of his bad self, which he will always carry with him. In one of the best moments of the film, Dixon ends up in the same hospital room as Red Welby, the same guy he threw out of a window. He apologizes, and in a poignant scene, the initially upset Welby pours a glass of orange juice for Dixon, providing him with a token of forgiveness. From then on, Dixon tracks down a suspected rapist, gets beaten within an inch of his life in order to get the suspect’s DNA, and notifies Mildred that the suspect may be “the guy”.  When word comes in that the suspect, though a rapist, is not the same man as Angela’s killer, Mildred assures Dixon that the hope that he had given her was more than she had had in a month. She concludes that it was better to have that feeling of hope-however fleeting it is-than have nothing. The efforts that Dixon had made to find her daughter’s killer were the kind of efforts that she wanted out of the police. In the film’s resolution, when Dixon and Mildred decide to go after the confirmed racist, they debate whether it is worth it to take his life and ultimately agree to decide on the way to confront him.


The film ends ambiguously as to whether Dixon and Mildred decide to kill the rapist. In the end, it’s not about justice, or vengeance, or even finding the killer. It’s not even a story about learning to let go of hate and embrace love.  It’s learning to live with hate, learning to temper it and not let it consume you. Mildred will always carry hate in her heart, what happened to her daughter will always stay with her and keep the coals burning in the furnace of her heart. She’s unhinged, aggressive, and a danger to everyone around her. Dixon is still that racist asshole, just a more focused asshole, with a clear perspective on his goals of being a detective. Feelings of racism don’t just magically go away. Neither of them are heroes, neither of them are villains. They simply have more clarity in their goals, they are aware of their hatred, aware that they will always carry it with them. They’ve developed moral codes. Keep in mind, moral codes don’t necessarily mean righteous codes, they mean codes that a character follows and doesn’t break, good or bad. Their codes are also still developing much like everyone’s are, as they haven’t decided whether to take the life of the scapegoat racist. Even characters like Willoughby aren’t necessarily martyrs, since the act of suicide is generally considered a coward’s way out rather than the brave act that Willoughby feels it is.


The morals of each character are identified by the actions they undertake in the film: Willoughby’s suicide, Mildred’s arson, Dixon’s “redemption” (All Oscar-worthy performances by the way). Each character no matter how small has a moment of sympathy or relatability. Red Welby, played by Caleb Landry Jones has his moment when he hands Dixon the orange juice, and Peter Dinklage has a small surprise role as James, a car salesman attracted to Mildred. When Mildred botches the dinner with James, he goes into a rant of how he knows his position as a dwarf and how he’ll never be a “huge catch”, yet his stature and demeanor still outshine Mildred’s rage and foul temperament. Three Billboards, like In Bruges, is a character study. It doesn’t focus on finding mysteries or on Mildred finding inner peace. Three Billboards is about the effect of an unforgettable tragedy, and one mother’s response to that tragedy, on the lives of our characters. The story teaches that people are not perfect, and no matter how righteous the cause or effort, everyone has a point of darkness in their heart, or a different perspective that goes against the generally expected code of society. Even after being burnt down, the billboards are put up again. They stand just as the hatred in Mildred’s heart still stands.

Director Martin McDonagh


When asked by Variety about the character of Dixon, McDonagh claims, “At the end he’s still the asshole he was at the start of the film, but hopefully by the end of it he’s seen that he needs to change. But the film isn’t about simple heroes and villains, and in no way does he become a hero in it. Part of the whole idea of the story is, ‘Who are the heroes and who are the villains and is anyone really that heroic?’ I wanted to explore the idea of a strong woman going against the police in the South, and I think the racial angle is one of the weapons she would throw at them. But the idea that there’s hope in a story like this, even with characters as despicable as Sam’s, I thought that was an interesting thing to explore.”









Kong: Skull Island-What Makes A Better Movie, Visual Elements or Literary Elements?


I just saw Kong: Skull Island, a very entertaining and interesting movie. The action scenes are on point. The visual style is attention-grabbing and the cinematography is splendid. Director Jordan Vogt-Roberts does an admirable job of recreating the 70’s Vietnam Era aesthetic, and he exceeds in his ability to depict human characters in sweeping long shots that indicate their vulnerability. However, where the visual elements of the film soar, the literary elements fall flat. The characters are almost nonexistent, the narrative is kind of all over the place and the dialogue is just TERRIBLE in some scenes. Now, keep in mind, this is a monster movie. We came to see King Kong fight a bunch of dinosaurs and attack some soldiers, so why should the film’s success be measured by a good story and characters? Furthermore, is a film with superior visuals, sound, and direction a better film; or is a film with superior writing, story, and characters better?

To go back to Kong, the story is straightforward, a team of scientists and soldiers go to Skull Island, damage the ecosystem, get attacked by Kong, and have to survive a rough landscape of monsters and dinosaurs. The characters are either one dimensional like Samuel L Jackson (a hardened veteran), Tom Hiddleston(a generic badass), and Brie Larson(a photographer…that’s basically all there is to her character); or the characters are plot points used to move along the story like John Goodman, Toby Kebbell, and Cory Hawkins. By the way, I’m using the actors’ names because of course, I don’t remember any of the names of the characters. I’m even good with names so it’s not like I wasn’t trying (I know literally every character’s name in Game of Thrones just try me).  In fact, what happens with these characters is something that I wrote about recently where the actors are so good they make you think the characters are better than they are. When John Goodman and Samuel L Jackson are talking to each other, the dialogue isn’t good, there’s little insight into their characters, yet it still sounds intense. That’s because the actors are intense, and they can make terrible dialogue like “I am the cavalry” sound somewhat plausible. If you just look at the cast for the film: Brie Larson recently won an Oscar, John Goodman should win an Oscar, and Samuel L Jackson is…well, Samuel L Jackson. These are all amazing actors, and the only reason I wasn’t falling asleep watching these characters is because of who they were played by.


But again, we don’t need the characters to be Shakespearean good, it’s a monster movie, so why be overly critical? Well, just because a film’s purpose is to scare people with monsters, it doesn’t mean it’s a good movie even if it succeeds in its purpose. I’d like to compare this film to the 2005 Peter Jackson directed King Kong movie. In my opinion, Jackson made a better film, with a better story. You actually cared about Kong as the film did its best to establish a true connection between Kong and the female lead. However, to the film’s detriment, the third act isn’t as good as the rest of the movie and it often becomes too slow and sappy. The action is good, but the film tends to drag and is overly long. With Kong: Skull Island, the action is unrelenting. It seems like every few minutes there’s a new scary creature leaping out at its victims. The story is barebones but the pace is intense and focuses on the visual creativity and scope of the creatures rather than the struggles of the characters. Kong is an unstoppable, overpowered death machine and it’s awesome. Rather than get bogged down in the third act, we get treated to an awesome action scene between Kong and a giant dinosaur-lizard thing. With the Peter Jackson Kong movie, you have a thoughtful, more character driven film that wants to shed light on the gentle nature of the giant ape. With the new movie, you have a pretty straightforward monster movie with epic action scenes.


So what does make a better film? Is it the visual elements, or the literary elements (story and screenwriting, etc.)? I think it varies from person to person. If you’re like me, and you can’t appreciate a film as much if it doesn’t have a strong narrative and well-written relatable characters, then you probably swing more towards literary elements defining films. If you’re more interested in the art and the crafting of a scene, the cinematography, the visual effects, the music, the production design (I love all these elements too, don’t get me wrong), but you might then define a film through that lens rather than overanalyzing the story and narrative. This would also apply to Kong: Skull Island, which I wouldn’t even consider a bad film. I would consider Kong an ok film from a story point-of-view and a very enjoyable one from a visual point of view. The purpose of many films is to entertain, and if that is the case, then Kong: Skull Island passes with flying colors. If you as an audience member are looking for something more in a monster movie, I would suggest looking elsewhere; but for all you monster movie lovers, Kong: Skull Island is another good addition to the pantheon of monster films, and I can’t wait for this version of Kong to fight Godzilla.

MiniBlog: Good Character or Good Actor?


One of the interesting aspects of film that I’ve noticed recently is that although good writing and good acting are two very different things, it is possible for good acting to overshadow good writing. Sometimes I’ll watch a movie and think to myself, were the characters good or was the acting just good enough to make the characters seem good? There are a few examples of this happening, the most recent being Cate Blanchett in Thor: Ragnorak. In the movie, Blanchett plays the main villain Hela, Thor’s evil older sister. Though Hela has been regarded as one of the more deliciously evil Marvel villains, when you really think about the development of the character, Hela falls flat as a compelling villain. Very little is established about the importance of her familial relationship to Thor, yes she does bring up the subject every now and then, but at the end of the day, she’s just another bad guy for Thor to defeat. There’s no bargaining, no internal conflict, Thor isn’t affected in any way by their relationship as siblings. She’s also given very little background and is simply depicted as the evil sister that likes war and wants to conquer things. What makes the role compelling in any way is Blanchett’s performance. She portrays Hela as a war monger that delights in the death and destruction that she leaves in her wake. If her character isn’t well developed, it is at least a joy to watch, and that may lead people to believe that it makes her a good villain. If the actor on the screen portraying the character is compelling, it doesn’t automatically make the character compelling though it may seem that way.


Some other examples lie in many Christopher Nolan movies. Nolan, being a very big picture, narrative-driven, overarching story and plot kind of filmmaker, doesn’t spend too much time developing his characters. The story around the main characters often propels them towards much more interesting character moments. In films like Interstellar and Inception, the characters themselves are often simplistic and understated. In fact, both Interstellar and Inception deal with a single dad trying to pull off a near-impossible mission and get back to their kids. What makes us connect with Nolan’s characters are the actors that he hires to play them. In Inception, Cobb may not be as interesting a character if it weren’t for powerhouse actor Leonardo DiCaprio playing him. The philosophical lines and speeches spouted by the characters wouldn’t be as appealing if it weren’t Gary Oldman or Morgan Freeman executing them with pure eloquence. Now, not to say that Nolan or his screenwriters write bad dialogue or characters, they simply do not develop them as strongly as say Martin Scorsese’s The Departed or Frank Darabont’s The Shawshank Redemption. Take a look at these films again and really consider the depth of these characters. What do you know about them? What can you say about them in the end? I think you’ll find that the importance of the performance plays a big part in how we perceive characters, and in some cases, an underwritten character can be highlighted and improved by a great actor.


The Dream by Shahrez Anjum


I wake to the sound of my last alarm. I turn over slightly to grab my phone. It is 9 A.M, I know I need to get up. However, the soft pillow massaging the back of my head and the warm blankets enveloping my body keep me constricted in a cozy cushiony confine. My linens coax me into staying in bed, so I relent and let my eyelids sink as I drift back into the comforting darkness.


My eyes are flooded with bright white lights,

My vision begins to make sense of the shapes and definitions-

I am in an arena.

The seats decline in the vast area like an upside-down plateau,

The floor below is polished and waxed and as big as a ballroom,

Crowds of people are moving out of the structure,

But I remain seated staring at the empty seats,

The ground is far from where I sit,

Someone sits next to me-

My friend.

He motions to me to exit the premises,

I accompany my friend out of the arena,

We enter the streets of a small town that I still call home,

As we walk down the street that leads to our neighborhood,

It begins to drizzle and the sky becomes dark grey,

The four-lane street that is bordered by wooden fences begins to change,


For now, it is a narrow one-way road,

Its ground becoming, rough and torn and worn,

Torrential rain upon us in great load,

The sound of thunder, like a battle horn,

We grip an umbrella very tightly,

It does little to shield us from downpour,

Still, we hide under it desperately,

Avoiding speeding cars whose engines roar,


The road that wishes to swallow us whole,

We barely escape its narrow clutches,

The rain becomes less harsh but still frequent,

The dark grey sky now becomes a light grey,

My friend and I part ways and he goes home,

The neighborhood is not as it once was,

The streets are the same, the ground is unchanged,

Even the houses inside look the same,

But it is not as I remember it,

Along the periphery are mansions,

Houses that are much taller and larger,

Four stories high and covered in oak trees,

Gilded lampposts adorn their entrances,

As if I was in the home of Gatsby,

Yet it is peaceful and still inviting,


I am in an assembly line,

Along with me, others are being shuffled towards a functionary,

The functionary reports our schedules, but I can’t find my schedule in my pocket-

It must be online.

I pull out my phone to search for it but have difficulty finding it,

In desperation, I dodge the functionary and head through a familiar hallway,

I try to find my schedule but it escapes me,

I tell myself I can’t wake up without my schedule,

A man approaches me and asks me what I am doing,

I try for an answer but the words never come out,

I am confused, stressed, and longing for a way out-


I wake to the sound of silence. I turn over slightly to grab my phone. It is 10 A.M. Bright light shines from my windows. I breathe a sigh of relief. It is summer, I don’t need my schedule, I am free. I know I need to get up, I am late. I have to meet with my friend. In a hurry, I quickly and effortlessly break free of the once constricting confines of linens and drift forward into the comforting light.