Crimson Peak Review

***SPOILERS***

Crimson-Peak

Ah, the beauty of this Gothic Victorian Romance/Suspense.

Guillermo Del Torro outdid himself.

Not only was the cast perfect in their roles (Hiddleston KILLED as Sir Thomas Sharpe) but the set, the music, the lighting, the attention to detail was just all so breathtaking.

But let’s start with the cast. As I said, Tom Hiddleston made a perfect Good Villain. Mia Wasikowska effortlessly played the naive, lovestruck authoress.

And Jessica Chastain. Holy cow. Who knew someone could play an incestual murderess with such grace, elegance, and poise. She was ruthless as Lucille Sharpe and played the role so well I forgot she was ever anything else.

Charlie Hunman and Jim Beaver (Bobby Singer!!!) were wonderful in their roles as well.

And that murder scene!!!!! Poor papa Cushing never saw it coming. But oh, it was brutal. The entire theater cringed when the sink broke.

I could go on for hours about the waltz scene.

I loved when Alan tipped his hat to Thomas at Mr. Cushing’s funeral. Like a silent “You take care of her”.

I really could just keep going but there’s one thing that just won’t leave me alone about this movie.

The ghosts.

There were three different colors of ghosts. Edith’s mother was a black ghost. The ghosts of the murdered wives were red. And then at the end, Thomas’s ghost was white, almost transparent.

Why?

My theory:

Edith talked so much about how ghosts are linked to certain places and events. I think the color depended on how they died.

Edith’s mom was black because she died from sickness. The murdered wives, and Lucille’s murdered baby, were all blood red. They died gruesome, hateful deaths.

The confusing ones are Lucille and Thomas, who both died gruesome deaths yet neither one had a red ghost.

Lucille was black. She died from sickness. Obviously, she wasn’t right in the head. For pity’s sake she had sex with her brother and murdered her mother. She died because of it. Her mental illness haunted her and that’s why she was black.

But what about Thomas? Why wasn’t his ghost black then?

He wasn’t insane. The incest, that was all Lucille. Thomas grew up believing that was ok because that was all he ever knew. Thomas didn’t murder his mother. Lucille did. And it was Lucille’s idea to marry into rich families and kill the wives off.

Thomas died because of love. He saved Alan, he saved Edith, and he tried to save Lucille, even though he knew that what she had done was wrong. He wanted to change her, to save her.

He was just so innocent and loving and forgiving.

That’s why his ghost was white.

Yes, yes. I know. I’m obsessed. So sue me.

Anyways, I’m always up for a lively discussion about this masterpiece of a movie.

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The Ghost Writer (2)

Here is the second installment of my pet project The Ghost Writer.

(This idea is copyrighted by me)


The typewriter had been a gift from her boyfriend, Dean Calloway, for her 19th birthday. As far as Casidi knew there wasn’t anything special about it. It couldn’t read minds or anything. How her dream had ended up on there in the perfect mystery novel form was beyond her.

Finally, Casidi pushed the odd incident out of her mind and worked on her Modern World History assignment.

At 7:30, Casidi donned her jacket, packed everything into her book bag, and set out for the café. She and Dean have a standing date every Friday morning at 7:45 and they haven’t missed one since the spring semester began two months ago.

He was waiting for her in their spot. As soon as Dean spotted her, he stood up and pulled out her chair.

“Thanks babe,” She said as he kissed her cheek.

“Anything for you,” Came his reliable answer. He sat across from her and adjusted his brown-rimmed glasses.

“So… something weird happened this morning.”

“What would that be?” Dean pushed a mocha towards Casidi, like he did ever Friday morning.

“You know that typewriter you got me?” Casidi clipped her long auburn hair out of her face.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I had this crazy dream last night, woke me up even, and it had been typed up. Every last detail, just like some fiction piece.”

“You probably did it in your sleep. Didn’t you tell me you sleep walk sometimes?”

“Yeah, but do you really think I could do that in my sleep? I mean, it was written well, the spelling was all correct… I don’t know, I just think it’s really weird.”

“What else could’ve happened though?” Dean asked as he sipped his steaming hot Americano.

“There isn’t really another explanation is there?”

“Well…” Dean got a glint in his eye. “The typewriter could have come alive and read your mind. Or you’re being possessed by some evil Japanese spirit… have you been to Japan recently? Or you are unknowingly part of some dream experiment. Or you are doing drugs. So which is it?”

By this point Casidi was laughing. “Ok, ok, I wrote it up in my sleep.”

“Mystery solved!” Dean spread his arms wide, causing a few sleepy eyes to glare at him with distaste.

They continued on with their conversation, talking about plans for the day and assignments they hated, not knowing that the entire conversation was being listened to.