The Dark

Canadian director John Fawcett last dropped by with Ginger Snaps, a pleasing rush of lycanthropy, menstruation and goth angst in suburbia. Excluding the Nicole Kidman bits from Moulin Rouge, it was the best horror show of 2000. His delayed sophomore venture lacks the chic indie innovation of that earlier film, but it’s an intriguing knot of Celtic mythology, girl-ghosts and killer sheep just the same.
Drawing on such sunny British stopover classics as The Wicker Man and Straw Dogs, The Dark sees Manhattanite Maria Bello venture into darkest Wales to drop her adversarial teenage daughter off with daddy (Sean Bean). When the girl is swept out to sea, the reference points quickly go east. Flashing images of doppelgangers, malevolent spirits and child torture inevitably recall The Ring, as does Ms. Bello’s impressive scenery-chewing struggle with maternal guilt. This is a J-horror in all but nationality and true to type, there’s a wild supernatural back-story about a Celtic cult going Jonestown some fifty years prior. Even better, the remote location now doubles as a gateway to Annwyn, the Welsh underworld. Beat that, Indian burial ground house.
Occasionally, the script heaves under the weight of this vast fantasy, with much historical recounting left to Richard Elfin’s gnarled native. The visuals are similarly cluttered with fast cuts, always an effective means of condensing information, unnerving the audience and annoying the hell out of the light sensitive.
Still, Mr. Fawcett does a spectacular job of maintaining a heightened gothic atmosphere. He even gets the killer sheep just right. If these unblinking woolly murder machines don’t get there first, the winningly nasty denouement should traumatise you nicely. More W-horrors please.