Every Episode of Guillermo del Toro's Cabinet of Curiosities, Reviewed
GUILLERMO DEL TORO CURATES THE BEST VOICES IN HORROR FOR A KILLER ANTHOLOGY
Happy Halloween! There’s nothing quite like the words “Guillermo del Toro curates an anthology” to stoke a horror fan’s anticipation. Cabinet of Curiosities, del Toro’s attempt to assemble an all-star roster of genre voices, is as consistently wonderful and gruesome as anthologies get. With creeping eldritch terror, nasty alien infestations, and gothic creature features, Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities has remarkably few duds and more than its fair share of bangers. It’s the perfect way to spend your All Hallow’s Eve. Minor spoilers ahead…
Lot 36
Guillermo Navarro - Guillermo del Toro’s go-to director of photography - helms the first segment of Cabinet of Curiosities. The tale of a man whose windfall at a storage auction begets a terrifying unearthing of slumbering demons and Nazi Germany occultism, Lot 36 functions much better as a palate tickler than the EC Comics chiller it clearly wants to invoke. It’s gorgeously wrought with great creature effects and Tim Blake Nelson doing his best to fill the unlikeable boots of a Bush-era xenophobe, but its transparent morality tale - with thin political window dressing - lacks the punch of satisfying comeuppance that became the signature of its influences. C+
Graveyard Rats
For Cabinet’s second course, director Vincenzo Natali (Cube, Splice) fares much better at aping the sensibilities of EC Comics and Tales from the Crypt with Graveyard Rats, a gothic horror yarn that collides a “rodents of an unusual size” creature feature with the eldritch undead. Revolving around a greedy graverobber (David Hewlett) who hoists his own petard with an obsessive vendetta against thieving rats, Graveyard Rats is goofy and inelegant, but it leans right into the macabre Creepshow slapstick missing from Lot 36. Stunning practical effects, squirm-inducing claustrophobia, and a fleet running time are just some of bells and whistles on this gruesome joyride. Watch the monochrome version in the extras section on Netflix for the intended presentation. B+
The Autopsy
Trafficking in the same primordial, ontological dread as his criminally underseen The Empty Man, David Prior’s The Autopsy fires on all cylinders as this anthology’s best. A gripping procedural that unfurls into a gauntlet of terrifying cosmic horror, The Autopsy revolves around a mining town’s tragic accident (or is it?) that reveals a mysterious infestation, testing the resolve of the local sheriff (Glynn Thurman) and his old friend, medical examiner Carl Winters (F. Murray Abraham, perhaps going harder than he ever has). Prior, once again, rips it out of the park with all of his signature flourishes: delirious crossfades, creeping atmosphere, and small-town specificity, all leading to an intimate showdown with an ancient, ineffable evil. Sharply written, properly disgusting, and disturbingly poetic, The Autopsy is the best of the bunch. A
The Outside
The Outside, Ana Lily-Amirpour’s goopy, hallucinatory, stylistic exercise, makes the most out of Kate Micucci as an awkward wallflower who descends into madness after becoming obsessed with a skincare lotion to which she’s horrifically allergic. A gross-out satire of suburban purgatory, The Outside finds distinct pleasures in its performances - specifically Dan Stevens as the serum’s wonderfully weird TV spokesman - but its one-note cynicism dries up quickly over the course of its overlong runtime. Adapted from illustrator and writer Emily Carroll’s short story, it’s pretty clear that there isn’t quite enough meat there to fill out an entire hour. Kate Micucci and Martin Starr, however, are fantastic as usual. B-
Pickman’s Model
Pickman’s Model, the first of Cabinet of Curiosities’ two H.P. Lovecraft adaptations, is likely the bleakest of del Toro’s offerings. Directed by Keith Thomas (The Vigil, Firestarter), Pickman’s Model stars Ben Barnes as Will Thurber, a gifted artist whose entire life is upended by an obsession with mysterious painter Richard Pickman (Crispin Glover, wielding the weirdest New York accent you’ve ever heard). Haunted by Pickman’s grotesque creations, Thurber is held hostage by a mounting dread and a gnawing suspicion that the horrifying art has origins beyond just imagination. Thomas pulls on the threads of art as illicit allure and Lovecraft’s obscured otherworldly terrors, even if they never fully come together in the end. Come for the sumptuous period details and downer ending, stay for Crispin Glover’s perfectly weirdo performance. B
Dreams in the Witch House
As a child, Walter Gillman watches his twin sister die, her spirit dragged away into the Forest of Lost Souls. As an adult (Rupert Grint), he has dedicated his life to piercing the veil between the living and the dead, determined to bring back his lost sibling. Where Pickman’s Model wavers in capturing Lovecraft’s essence, Dreams in the Witch House whiffs it entirely. Bending the source material’s surreal, cosmic phantasmagoria into a meditation on love and loss, it’s an understandable liberty taken with the original text, but Catherine Hardwicke’s hand here finds itself to be shockingly literal and disappointingly inert. The only dud of the anthology. C
The Viewing
“There’s no smoking in the obelisk chamber.” Great minds convening at the brutalist quarters of a mysterious billionaire for an equally mysterious purpose, The Viewing is Panos Cosmatos (Mandy, Beyond the Black Rainbow) at his most recognizable. With grainy, neon haze backed by sinister synths and bugnuts creature effects and gore, you’d be utterly surprised by how much a razor-thin story can be carried by dialogue (courtesy of writer Aaron Stewart-Ahn) and a vibe. With its comedian guests (Eric Andre, Charlyne Yi, Steve Agee) and fiendish hosts (Peter Weller, Sofia Boutella) swirling around a face-melting reveal of unearthly transmogrifications, The Viewing is Cabinet of Curiosities at its most fun: a nightmare blunt rotation for the ages. B+
The Murmuring
If The Viewing’s simplicity is buoyed by its neon-soaked bloodbath, then Jennifer Kent’s The Murmuring takes the opposite, gentler approach to its own overly familiar story. Dipping into the near-empty well of haunted houses as meditations on grief, Kent’s tale of a birdwatching couple (Esssie Davis, Andrew Lincoln) slowly unraveling the dark past of their working vacation home proves that tender performances, gorgeous staging, and a sweeping wistfulness are all that’s necessary to elevate ghost story clichés. The Murmuring is Cabinet of Curiosities’ most gorgeous offering, delivering a heartbreaking haymaker powerful enough to bring tears to your eyes: a potent elixir mixing equal notes of warmth and spookiness. A-
