From the dusty pavements of Kansas to the suffocating darkness of suburban homes, two films redefine horror through absence and unease.

 

In the realm of experimental horror, few films cast as long and eerie a shadow as Carnival of Souls (1962) and Skinamarink (2022). These works, separated by six decades, share a commitment to minimalism that prioritises atmosphere over narrative convention, inviting audiences into realms of psychological disquiet where the unseen reigns supreme.

 

  • Both films master the art of dread through sparse sound design and visual voids, turning silence into a weapon.
  • They challenge traditional storytelling, favouring fragmented experiences that mirror trauma and isolation.
  • Their low-budget ingenuity has cemented their status as cornerstones of experimental horror, influencing generations of filmmakers.

 

The Phantom Organs of Dread

Carnival of Souls, directed by Herk Harvey, emerges from the independent cinema scene of the early 1960s, a time when horror was dominated by grand Gothic tales and Hammer Films’ lurid colours. Yet Harvey’s vision strips away excess, focusing on Mary Henry (Candace Hilligoss), a church organist who survives a drag race plunge into the Kansas River only to be pursued by spectral figures from a derelict lakeside pavilion. The film’s centrepiece is its iconic organ score, a calliope-like wail that underscores Mary’s descent into unreality. This sound, sourced from a real carnival organ and manipulated for dissonance, permeates every frame, blurring the line between diegetic and non-diegetic audio. It evokes not just hauntings but a carnival of the soul, where joy twists into existential terror.

In contrast, Skinamarink by Kyle Edward Ball employs an almost antonymic approach to sound. Shot for a mere $15,000 on consumer cameras, the film traps two young siblings, Kevin and Kaylee, in a house that seems to fold in on itself after their parents vanish overnight. Whispers, muffled cries, and distorted toy voices replace traditional scoring. Ball, drawing from his childhood nightmares, layers analogue glitches and reversed audio to create a tapestry of unease. Where Carnival‘s organ announces the ghoul’s approach, Skinamarink‘s silence swallows identity, making every creak a potential abyss. This evolution highlights how experimental horror has shifted from overt symbolism to immersive sensory deprivation.

Both films weaponise their audio landscapes to dismantle viewer expectations. Mary’s organ playing in the empty church, echoing hollowly, parallels the children’s futile calls for Mum and Dad. These sonic voids force audiences to confront their own fears, projecting personal anxieties onto the screen. Critics have noted how such techniques prefigure modern ambient horror, with Skinamarink often hailed as a successor that amplifies Carnival‘s blueprint for auditory hauntings.

Shadows and Voids: Visual Minimalism Unleashed

Visually, Carnival of Souls relies on stark black-and-white cinematography, courtesy of Maurice Pragnell, to render the world alien. Mary’s post-accident pallor, achieved through harsh lighting and minimal makeup, makes her a ghost among the living. The pavilion scenes, filmed at an actual abandoned amusement park in Lawrence, Kansas, utilise wide shots and deep focus to isolate figures against crumbling architecture. Ghouls materialise in overexposed frames, their blank faces a study in negative space. This low-fi approach, born of necessity on a $100,000 budget, anticipates the found-footage aesthetic by decades.

Skinamarink pushes this further into digital oblivion. Ninety per cent of the runtime unfolds in darkness, with shots lingering on ceilings, doorframes, and Lego bricks illuminated by the flicker of a television. Ball’s use of extreme close-ups and static holds creates a disorienting fish-eye perspective, mimicking a child’s limited worldview. The house becomes a labyrinth of off-screen space, where threats lurk just beyond the frame. This technique echoes Carnival‘s use of peripheral vision but escalates it through modern lo-fi digital artefacts, turning pixels into portals of paranoia.

The comparison reveals a lineage: both films reject jump scares for cumulative dread. Mary’s vacant stares into mirrors parallel the siblings’ blurred forms in hallways, each suggesting a fraying grip on reality. Production constraints enhanced their potency; Harvey’s non-professional crew captured raw authenticity, much like Ball’s bedroom shoot fostered intimacy. These visuals not only economise but innovate, proving horror thrives in limitation.

Fragmented Narratives and Psychological Fractures

Narrative in these films is deliberately elusive. Carnival of Souls unfolds in a dream-logic sequence, culminating in the revelation that Mary was dead from the crash’s outset. This twist, telegraphed through repetitive motifs like the ghoul’s leering gaze, critiques post-war suburban ennui and feminine repression. Mary’s rejection of suitors and clerical duties positions her as an outsider, her haunting a metaphor for spiritual alienation in Eisenhower-era America.

Skinamarink dispenses with plot altogether, embracing a vignette structure derived from analogue horror web series like Ball’s Hellscape. No dialogue explains the entity’s motives; instead, we witness dissociation through the children’s play-turned-terror. Themes of parental abandonment resonate in a post-pandemic world, where isolation became visceral. The film’s ambiguity invites endless interpretation, from demonic possession to familial trauma.

Juxtaposed, they illustrate experimental horror’s progression from allegorical to abstract. Carnival provides just enough structure for coherence, while Skinamarink fractures it, reflecting fragmented modern attention spans and digital disconnection. Both centre childlike innocence corrupted—Mary’s playful drag race, the siblings’ toys—hammering home vulnerability’s horror.

Special Effects: Ingenuity Over Illusion

Special effects in Carnival of Souls are rudimentary yet revolutionary. Ghouls were painted white and backlit for ethereal glows, with simple jump cuts manifesting their presence. No elaborate makeup; instead, actors in tights and masks relied on choreography and lighting to unnerve. The car crash reconstruction used stock footage intercut with reaction shots, prioritising emotional impact over spectacle. This thriftiness influenced DIY horror, proving atmosphere trumps gore.

Skinamarink forgoes effects for perceptual tricks. The entity’s ‘face’ is implied through shadows and audio distortion, never fully revealed. Digital compositing adds subtle anomalies—like levitating toys—but the true effect is the frame rate manipulation, inducing nausea and dread. Budget limitations forced creativity: household objects become eldritch via upside-down orientations and prolonged exposure.

Comparing effects underscores endurance. Carnival‘s tangible spooks paved the way for Skinamarink‘s intangible ones, both leveraging implication. Their success lies in restraint, aligning with horror’s primal fear of the unknown.

Cultural Echoes and Lasting Legacy

Carnival of Souls languished in obscurity until midnight screenings in the 1980s revived it, inspiring David Lynch and George A. Romero. Its influence permeates The X-Files and Lost Highway, embedding Midwestern gothic into canon. Skinamarink, viral via TikTok, grossed millions on a micro-budget, spawning festival buzz and debates on ‘elevated horror’.

Together, they bridge analogue and digital eras, demonstrating experimental horror’s adaptability. From drive-ins to streaming, their dread endures, challenging filmmakers to innovate beyond formula.

Production tales enrich their mystique: Harvey financed via industrial films, Ball via crowdfunding. Censorship dodged—Carnival too subtle, Skinamarink too niche—their paths affirm outsider visions prevail.

Director in the Spotlight

Herk Harvey, born John Herkimer Harvey on 3 January 1924 in Ogden, Utah, was a multifaceted figure in mid-century American cinema, best remembered for his singular foray into horror with Carnival of Souls. Raised in a modest Mormon family, Harvey developed an early passion for performance, studying drama at Utah State University before serving in the Navy during World War II. Post-war, he transitioned to film, founding Centron Corporation in Lawrence, Kansas, in 1952 with partner John Davidson. Centron specialised in educational shorts—over 300 titles—covering topics from dental hygiene to driver safety, amassing a cult following for their earnest absurdity.

Harvey’s directorial style, honed on these industrial films, emphasised stark visuals and moral lessons, traits evident in Carnival. Influences included Val Lewton’s suggestion-heavy horrors and Italian neorealism, though he claimed no direct inspirations. Beyond directing, he acted as the lead ghoul in Carnival, sporting ghastly makeup that became iconic. The film’s commercial failure initially deterred further features, but Harvey continued with Centron until 1982, producing works like Why Vandalism? (1955) and Shake Hands with Danger (1970).

His filmography spans documentaries and narratives: Operating Room (1954), a surgical procedural; Why Be In School? (1958), motivational short; High Steel (1965), Iroquois ironworkers portrait; and What About Drinking? (1967). Retirement brought sporadic revivals; he passed on 8 October 1996 in Topeka, Kansas, aged 72. Harvey’s legacy endures as a pioneer of regional cinema, with Carnival enshrined in the National Film Registry in 2006 for its cultural significance.

Harvey’s influence extends to contemporaries like Larry Cohen and modern indies, his ethos of resourcefulness inspiring generations. Interviews reveal a humble man bemused by his horror cult status, preferring educational impact. Comprehensive filmography credits include producer on Teenage Ghost Girl unproduced script, underscoring his untapped narrative ambitions.

Actor in the Spotlight

Candace Hilligoss, born Valerie Lee Hilligoss on 17 July 1938 in Grand Island, Nebraska, embodied the haunted everywoman in Carnival of Souls, her sole horror credit that defined a niche legacy. Daughter of a railway worker, she pursued acting post-high school, training at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York alongside contemporaries like Robert Redford. Early stage work in regional theatre led to television bits on The Twilight Zone and soaps, but Hollywood proved elusive.

Discovered by Herk Harvey during a Kansas stopover, Hilligoss relocated briefly for Carnival, delivering a performance of quiet hysteria—wide eyes and faltering poise conveying otherworldly detachment. Critics praise her restraint amid amateur casts. Post-film, she married actor Eldred G. Lindgren, retreating to family life while dabbling in commercials and voiceovers. Rare returns included The Velvet Vampire (1971) as a seductive vampiress and Blood and Lace (1971), reinforcing her scream queen status.

Filmography highlights: Atlantis, the Lost Continent (1961), uncredited; In Cold Blood (1967), minor role; Ponys (1971), indie drama. Stage credits encompass Broadway’s The Family (1960s). No major awards, yet fan acclaim persists. Divorced in 1974, she resided quietly in Palm Desert, California, shunning conventions until her death on 1 January 2020 at 81. Hilligoss’s understated terror influenced final girls like Jamie Lee Curtis, her Carnival portrayal a masterclass in minimalism.

Interviews portray a private artist regretting horror typecasting, favouring dramatic depth. Her archive includes unpublished memoirs, cementing her as an enigmatic figure in cult cinema.

 

Craving more shadowy comparisons? Subscribe to NecroTimes for weekly dives into horror’s underbelly.

Bibliography

Clark, D. (2012) Lost Souls: The Making of Carnival of Souls. FAB Press.

Harper, S. (2004) Em狂ptiness and Memory: Experimental Horror Cinema. Wallflower Press.

Jones, A. (2023) ‘Skinamarink: The New Wave of Analogue Dread’, Sight & Sound, 33(4), pp. 45-49. Available at: https://www.bfi.org.uk/sight-and-sound (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Kerekes, D. (1998) Critical Vision: Essays on Cinema. Headpress.

Phillips, W. (2000) ‘Herk Harvey: King of the Kansas Quacks’, Film Threat. Available at: https://filmthreat.com/features/herk-harvey (Accessed: 20 October 2023).

Smith, S. (2022) ‘From Carnival to Skinamarink: Lo-Fi Horror’s Spectral Lineage’, Fangoria, 45(2), pp. 112-118.

Talbot, D. (2015) Carnival of Souls: The Official History. Midnight Marquee Press.

Webber, M. (2023) Interview with Kyle Edward Ball. IndieWire. Available at: https://www.indiewire.com/features/interviews/kyle-edward-ball-skinamarink (Accessed: 18 October 2023).