THE CREMATOR (Herz, 1969)

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(Directed by Juraj Herz from a script by Herz and Ladizlav Fuks; starring Rudolf Hrušínský, Vlasta Chramostová, Jana Stehnová, Miloš Vognič, Jiří Menzel, and Ilja Prachař. Released 14 March 1969; watched 2023w13 via Criterion Channel)

A still from THE CREMATOR: Rudolf Hrušínský looks on, in black and white.

If ALL MY GOOD COUNTRYMEN followed the horrors of Post-WWII conformity (led, as here, by Ilja Prachař) to an oppressive regime, THE CREMATOR – one of the most frightening horror films I've seen – offers a darkly (pitch black) comic unfurling of the spiral of possession of one (already primed) man and a populace just prior to the outbreak of WWII by the ultimate evil of the 20th century. Hrušínský is a revelation - that I'd never heard of or seen anything of this treasure is a crime I'll be further rectifying (as seems to be the way with my current Czech New Wave obsession) - his performance as Kopfrkingl reminding me, on more than one occasion, of Peter Lorre's Hans Beckert in M. Every great villain – whether fully formed or in the process of becoming – is convinced that they're doing the right thing: Hrušínský's Kopfrkingl is one of the greats and then some. Brilliant, brutal – and essential – viewing.

THE LIVING SHADOW / THE SHADOW LAUGHS

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Yesterday and today being two very very good mail days:

Both are the first hardcover edition Ideal reprints of the first SHADOW story – THE LIVING SHADOW (originally published in THE SHADOW MAGAZINE No. 1, April 1931) – and the third – THE SHADOW LAUGHS (originally published in THE SHADOW MAGAZINE No. 3, October 1931), from 1935 and are in stunningly good condition. My shelves, they sing - and will sing even louder next week: just found the second Ideal reprint, THE EYES OF THE SHADOW, (THE SHADOW MAGAZINE No. 2, July 1931), which will complete the trifecta.

MÉLUSINE – Cecile McLorin Salvant

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As with everything McLorin Salvant releases, MÉLUSINE is an interrogation of music’s capacity to tell all of our truths – the ones we know and the ones we don’t, a journey told through her singular voice across centuries and languages:

A Black woman's head and tongue in profile against a sunset orange; her earring transforming into a serpent
The new album’s songs tell the story of the European folkloric legend of Mélusine, a woman who turns into a half-snake each Saturday as a result of a childhood curse by her mother. Mélusine later agrees to marry Raymondin on the condition that he never see her on Saturdays. He agrees but is ultimately convinced by his brother to break his promise, piercing his wife’s door with his sword and finding her naked in the bath, half snake, half woman. When she catches him spying on her, she turns into a dragon and flies out the window, only to reappear every time one of her descendants is on their deathbed.

Vinyl duly ordered. So very, very good.