PFF Film Review: The Shout
Content Creator Phyllis Chan reviews The Shout (1978), Jerzy Skolimowski’s British horror film based on a short story by Robert Graves.
There is something oddly charismatic about The Shout (1978). Directed by Jerzy Skolimowski, who went on to direct the critically acclaimed EO (2022), we witness his prowess in capturing his audience through his craft. Transfixed by the opening credit scene, we watch an Aboriginal man in a colonial military stumbling across the windy sand dunes. It lends an air of mystery to the film, after all, we can’t derive much from the title of the film.
It is told through a flashback narrated by a patient in an asylum named Crossley (Alan Bates), giving the story an almost folklore-like quality. Cast against the backdrop of a small English beach town, we are introduced to the seemingly happy couple, Anthony (John Hurt) and Rachel (Susannah York). However, the intrusion of Crossley in their home complicates their relationship.
Crossley might be the most interesting character in the film. He is a typical Byronic hero — dark, arrogant and an intelligent handsome outcast — there is a sensuality which exudes from the way Anthony Bates plays him. Crossley mysteriously lurks around the couple, haunting their lives like a spirit, ready to attack at any moment. He uses his magic, which he had learnt from a shaman during his time living with the Aboriginals, to seduce Rachel, making her completely subordinate to his will.
The film made me realise the power of sound in film to capture and enthral its audience. Crossley’s greatest magic, the titular Shout, might be one of the most disturbing sounds I have ever encountered. It not only torments Anthony and the residents of the town but also us, the audience. He conjures his magic at the beach, where its deathly isolating landscapes of sand dunes juxtapose with the small, yet warm town. For a moment, we are suspended in a place that doesn’t seem to exist, hearing a sound that should not be heard. We are as isolated as the characters for a moment, trapped within a mythical landscape, transfixed by an imaginary soundscape.
The Shout might not be a perfect film, but the haunting scene of the titular Shout, has been imprinted in my mind and continues to plague me.