Crimson Peak: a romance novel and a ghost story

I watched Crimson Peak with my mother, who speaks very little English and thus missed the . . . uh, nuances of the dialogue. She still loved the movie, because it is awesome. Rotten Tomatoes has it at a passable 68% rating, which just goes to show that professional critics don't know what they're talking about. Because, I repeat, this movie is amazing. 

I expected I would love the hell out of this movie because I've loved Guillermo del Toro's entire cinematography, Pacific Rim included. Especially included. Anyway, at this point, del Toro could take a dump on camera, film it, call it a movie, and I'd be at theaters on opening day. I didn't see Crimson Peak on opening night only because I had to travel all the way to Richmond for an interview.

I'm going to spoil the hell out of this after this great poster:

The image before the cut is quite arty, which I feel is a good representation of the gorgeous visuals and setting of this film. Del Toro renders his setting with loving detail for the beautiful, the grotesque, and the messy. Edith's (FMCs) dresses and hair are straight from an old-timey fashion magazine, the muddy roads of Buffalo NY are dready and vivid, and Allerdale Hall . . . Allerdale Hall is practically a character all on its own:

Crimson Peak's haunted house is a decaying aristocratic home atop an old red clay mine. It's sinking into the red mud, and it has several holes in the ceiling that make it sound like the house is groaning when the wind goes through them. Its pipes are contaminated with the red clay and it looks like blood is pouring from the faucet every time Edith has to bathe. Snow, leaves, and rain fall on the center of the house. I could imagine just how cold the characters were as they walked through the Allerdale Hall's stairs and hallways, the mold practically visible, probably freezing. 

The plot, on the other hand . . . I loved it, but I have to admit I love me some over-the-top, melodramatic romances. If Crimson Peak's setting is the kind to get standing ovations from people who pride themselves on having excellent taste, then its plot is what would make those same people pretend they were too intelligent to enjoy it. The following poster is a better representation of the movie's plot:

I have two theories about the above poster: it's either from an unpaid intern who taught themselves photoshop to airbrush their own selfies, or someone in the promo department was fully cognizant that this movie is heavily inspired by (I assume) Penny Dreadful romances. Regardless, I love it. I loved this whole thing.

The story starts with Edith trying to submit a short ghost story for publication, and an old white dude gets snotty with her and suggests she adds a love story. Quickly endearing herself to me, Edith decides to edit the story (love subplot included), but then write the thing on a typewriter so she can submit it to another publisher under a male pseudonym. After a douchey comment from the editor, she fears that her handwriting is too feminine.

Of course, Edith's writerly pursuits aren't the point of the film, so she quickly meets Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston), who she warms up to after he compliments her story before finding out that she's the author. It turns out he's an impoverished English baronet trying to get capital for some clay-extracting machine thing so he can get the ray clay under Allerdale Hall mine going again.

Whoever has read any romance novel ever can predict what happens next. Thomas pursues Edith, relentlessly, charmingly, and non-threateningly. There's a scene where he invites her to waltz in front of a snotty mom and daughter who tried to make fun of Edith earlier in the movie. He reads her manuscript, offering praise and suggestions throughout.

I know Tom Hiddleston is supposedly "unconventionally" attractive, which . . . okay. He looks pretty damned conventionally attractive to me, so it's no surprise that Edith is smitten, especially since he seems to take her writing seriously.

The next predictable plot development is that Edith's dad has the Sharpes investigated, finds out some shady secret, then pays Thomas to leave town after breaking Edith's heart. That goes down as you expect . . . then Edith's dad is murdered the same morning that Thomas sends Edith a note with his final thoughts about her manuscript, and a letter explaining that her papa says he's too broke to provide for her, but that he obviously loves her. And they get married, of course.

Edith and Thomas at Edith's father's funeral

Throughout this entire thing, Thomas' obviously creepy sister Lucille has been around. At the beginning Thomas and Lucille were very obviously working together for some nefarious end . . . which was obviously money. Before getting to Allerdale Hall, Thomas and Lucille were painted as pretty standard, aristocratic gold diggers.

I have to give it to Hiddleston for making Thomas an appealing romantic hero even while having creepy asides with his creepy sister about whether or not Edith was the right target. In fact, the beginning had me thinking that Lucille was the less smarmy of the siblings since she's the one who protests that Edith is just a young, sheltered girl.

Then the story moves to Allerdale Hall and things take a turn towards the del Toro weird. The flimsy ghost of Edith's mom has nothing on the atmosphere at Allerdale Hall. Or maybe it's just that Allerdale Hall is where Lucille starts losing it.

Things start off on the wrong foot when Lucille refuses to give Edith a copy of the mansion's keys, even though she's now married to Thomas and is thus the lady of the house. As it happens in any good novela (for those not in the know, I'm referring to telenovelas from Latin America).

The second act of the film proceeds with Edith freezing her butt off in a flimsy nightgown all over Allerdale Hall every night, wondering where Thomas' hot self wanders off to. Every night, she meets a different red-clay covered ghost: one with a cleaver on its head, one with a veil and a baby, one that just looks weird. These ghosts appear to be going after her, but she runs into Thomas (and/or Lucille) every time they're about to catch her.

At the same time, Thomas uses Edith's funds to work on his clay extractor. The relationship between Edith and Thomas grows sweeter with each scene they share, which turns Thomas into a more sympathetic character. There's a particularly sweet scene where Thomas shows Edith the toys he used to make for Lucille when they were children . . . a scene that quickly turns sexual, then creepy when Lucille cockblocks. That moment in the trailer where it looks like Lucille is spying on Edith and Thomas having sex? That was actually her peeping to make sure they weren't having sex.

As a matter of fact, the only way Edith can get some is the night they get snowed in at the town, away from Allerdale Hall and Lucille's spying.

I added a gif of said sex scene, courtesy of this tumblr.

By the way, this was really the only sex scene in the movie, and since this is 2015, it was actually pretty tame. The interviews had me expecting this to be FSOG in . . . whatever period of English history this is supposed to be. Anyway, I thought it was pretty nice, especially because Edith was obviously as much into it as Thomas.

There's probably some commentary to be shared about how the promo gave Thomas a kind of predatory role in the sex scene with Edith, but the actual movie had her actively participating and arguably starting the encounter. In fact, I can't find any images of the portion of the scene where Edith gets on top of Thomas and stares down at him in a similar fashion as this:

Anyway, when Thomas and Edith return to Allerdale Hall, Lucille flips at Edith. Edith is like . . . okay, mother superior, he's like my husband. Lucille tries to backtrack that she was just worried because of the snow and blah, blah, but anyone who hadn't guessed from previous scenes is clued in that Lucille is a little too possessive of her brother. So things take a Flowers in the Attic turn.

If it's not clear from all the rambling I've done, I really, really liked this movie. I'm going to leave the plot there in case reading this far makes anyone want to go see it at theaters. In fact, I'm going to go all out and say that even if you don't like this type of plot/setting, you should still go see Crimson Peak in theaters.

Why? I'm glad you asked.

Crimson Peak is a complete story, and that's almost unheard of in today's Hollywood. Every studio wants to recreate Marvel's money printer MCU franchise, so every film is done with the intention of setting up some kind of "cinematic universe". Even the last film I watched and enjoyed enough to recommend (The Man from U.N.C.L.E) couldn't resist ending on a "we really, really want a sequel" note. Guillermo del Toro did not attempt any sequel bait with Crimson Peak. The last, bittersweet shot of the film is a true conclusion.

I want this movie to be a roaring success at the box office on the slim possibility that it gives Hollywood evidence that hey, people do want to see stand-alone movies. There's no need to blow our entire, cocaine-coated budget trying to launch another MCU-like franchise. Let's give a passionate director cash to make an excellent stand-alone film. Let's not pressure all our directors into bloating movies with sequel bait characters.

Wouldn't that be great?