Shadows That Pursue: Carnival of Souls and It Follows Redefine Psychological Dread

Two low-budget visions of inescapable doom that linger long after the credits roll, proving terror thrives in ambiguity and silence.

In the shadowed corridors of psychological horror, Herk Harvey’s Carnival of Souls (1962) and David Robert Mitchell’s It Follows (2014) stand as twin pillars of unrelenting unease. Both films eschew gore for something far more insidious: the slow erosion of sanity through pursuit by the unknown. Crafted on shoestring budgets, they harness everyday settings to evoke primal fears, inviting viewers to question reality itself.

  • Carnival of Souls pioneers atmospheric dread with its ghostly apparition and organ-drenched score, laying groundwork for modern slow-burn horrors.
  • It Follows innovates on pursuit tropes, transforming a sexually transmitted curse into a metaphor for inescapable mortality.
  • Together, they illuminate psychological horror’s evolution, from drive-in oddity to arthouse sensation, united by themes of isolation, femininity, and the supernatural’s quiet invasion.

The Phantom Pavilion: Unraveling Carnival of Souls

Herk Harvey’s Carnival of Souls emerges from the Kansas flatlands like a fever dream, following Mary Henry (Candace Hilligoss), a church organist who survives a drag race plunge into the muddy Saline River only to be haunted by a ghoul-faced spectre. The film opens with the crash, a visceral jolt that propels Mary into a fractured existence. She relocates to Lawrence, Kansas, taking a job at a chapel while renting a room from a landlady suspicious of her aloofness. Visions plague her: the pallid ghoul appears in mirrors, on desolate streets, and amid the abandoned pavilion where the carnival once thrived. Everyday interactions sour; diner patrons stare vacantly, and Mary’s reflection vanishes in shop windows. The narrative builds through disquieting vignettes, culminating in a revelation that reframes her survival as something far more macabre.

Shot in just three weeks for under $100,000, the film’s power lies in its stark black-and-white cinematography. John Clifford’s script, penned after Harvey’s industrial filmmaking epiphany, emphasises isolation. Mary’s arc traces a descent from denial to confrontation, her organ performances serving as portals to the otherworldly. The score, dominated by eerie organ motifs composed by Gene Wayne, underscores her unraveling; its dissonant swells mimic the ghoul’s inexorable approach. Performances amplify the uncanny: Hilligoss conveys quiet hysteria with minimal dialogue, while Sidney Berger’s leering suitor adds sleazy menace. Harvey, a prolific industrial filmmaker, infused the project with documentary realism, transforming Wichita’s abandoned Sunnyside Pavilion into a labyrinth of dread.

Thematically, Carnival of Souls probes the liminal space between life and death. Mary’s post-accident detachment symbolises survivor’s guilt, her visions a manifestation of repressed trauma. Religious undertones permeate: the chapel organ becomes a conduit for damnation, echoing Puritan fears of the soul’s perdition. Gender dynamics emerge subtly; Mary rejects male advances, her autonomy clashing with 1960s expectations, positioning her as a proto-final girl adrift in patriarchal scorn. The film’s regionalism grounds its horror: Kansas’ vast emptiness mirrors her psychological void, predating Midwestern chillers like X or Pearl.

The Curse That Stalks: Decoding It Follows

David Robert Mitchell’s It Follows transplants dread to suburban Detroit, where teenager Jay (Maika Monroe) inherits a supernatural affliction after a sexual encounter. The entity, manifesting as various strangers, pursues her at a walking pace, lethal if it touches her. She passes it to a lover, but it returns, forcing Jay and friends to flee through derelict neighbourhoods and abandoned pools. The film unfolds in languid long takes, the camera often fixed as the threat creeps into frame. Supporting cast includes Paul (Keir Gilchrist), a childhood friend harbouring unspoken love, and Yara (Olivia Luccardi), whose headphone monologues pierce the tension. Climax unfolds at a lake house, bullets and boats failing against the entity’s shapeshifting relentlessness.

Filmed for $2 million, Mitchell’s sophomore feature employs 1970s-inspired widescreen and a pulsating synth score by Disasterpeace. Rich Vreeland’s electronic pulses evoke John Carpenter, building paranoia through repetition. Monroe’s Jay embodies resilient vulnerability, her screams raw amid the film’s restraint. Ensemble dynamics enrich the horror: friends’ makeshift strategies humanise the abstract threat, contrasting Mary’s solitude. Mitchell’s direction favours spatial awareness; the entity’s plodding gait heightens anticipation, turning public spaces into traps.

At its core, It Follows allegorises sexually transmitted dread, the curse a metaphor for STDs, unwanted pregnancy, or death’s inevitability. Jay’s arc navigates violation and agency, passing the burden while grappling with its inescapability. Suburban ennui amplifies terror: Motown’s ruins symbolise faded American dreams, the entity’s anonymity reflecting modern disconnection. Unlike slashers, resolution offers no finality; the closing shot implies eternal vigilance, cementing its philosophical bite.

Symphonies of Silence: Sound Design as Spectral Weapon

Both films weaponise audio to infiltrate the psyche. Carnival of Souls thrives on absence: footsteps echo in empty halls, Mary’s voiceover narration intones fatalism, punctuated by organ blasts that swell like approaching doom. This lo-fi approach, recorded live on location, forges intimacy, the instrument’s timbre evoking ecclesiastical judgement. Silence dominates sequences, such as Mary’s drive through fog-shrouded fields, where wind howls presage apparitions.

It Follows counters with analogue synth waves, Disasterpeace layering drones that mimic the entity’s gait. Distant thuds signal its advance, while diegetic pop radio offers fleeting normalcy. Beach Boys snippets underscore irony, youth’s innocence clashing with mortality. Mitchell calibrates volume meticulously; foreground chatter fades to reveal pursuing breaths, immersing viewers in Jay’s paranoia.

Comparatively, Harvey’s organic tones ground horror in the corporeal, while Mitchell’s electronics evoke digital-age alienation. Both eschew jump scares, favouring sustained tension akin to early Italian giallo or Val Lewton productions. This auditory minimalism influences contemporaries: A24’s slow cinema owes debts to their restraint.

Pursued Women: Femininity Under Siege

Female protagonists anchor both narratives, their plights illuminating gendered terror. Mary’s repression manifests as ghostly rejection, her spinsterish demeanour inviting scorn from male figures. Hilligoss portrays quiet defiance, her final organ reverie a surrender to otherworldliness. The film critiques mid-century femininity: Mary’s independence renders her spectral, unmoored from domesticity.

Jay confronts violation head-on, her sexuality weaponised yet reclaimed through solidarity. Monroe infuses athletic poise, transforming flight into strategy. The curse’s venereal subtext probes consent, Jay’s passing of it a complex act of survival. Friends’ protectiveness highlights communal bonds absent in Mary’s isolation.

Juxtaposed, they trace horror’s heroine evolution: from passive victim to active resistor. Mary’s otherness prefigures Jay’s agency, both challenging male gazes amid existential threats. This lineage extends to The Witch or Relic, where women negotiate supernatural patriarchy.

Frugal Nightmares: Low-Budget Ingenuity

Resource scarcity birthed brilliance. Harvey self-financed via industrial contacts, utilising non-actors for authenticity. Black-and-white 16mm concealed limitations, flourishes like double exposures crafting ghoulish realism without effects houses.

Mitchell leveraged Super 16mm for grainy tactility, practical stunts eschewing CGI. Detroit locations provided gratis decay, amplifying verisimilitude. Both directors prioritised performance over spectacle, proving psychological depth trumps expenditure.

Production lore enriches: Harvey’s carnival background inspired the pavilion, while Mitchell drew from childhood fears. Censorship dodged via implication, their subtlety enduring bans or cuts elsewhere.

Legacy’s Long Shadow: Ripples Through Horror

Carnival of Souls languished until 1989 revival, inspiring Halloween‘s Laurie and The Others. Its cult status cemented via VHS, influencing David Lynch’s surrealism.

It Follows grossed $23 million, spawning thinkpieces on millennial angst. Mitchell’s follow-up Under the Silver Lake echoes its paranoia, while imitators like Smile borrow pursuit mechanics.

Collectively, they bridge eras: Harvey’s outsider vision foreshadows Mitchell’s indie polish, affirming psychological horror’s vitality.

Director in the Spotlight

David Robert Mitchell, born 12 October 1974 in Clawson, Michigan, grew up amid Detroit’s industrial decline, a backdrop permeating his work. A self-taught filmmaker, he studied at Florida State University before cutting teeth on shorts. Influences span Jaws, The Shining, and Euro-horror, blending suspense with coming-of-age introspection. Debut feature The Myth of the American Sleepover (2010) captured suburban rites with dreamy nostalgia, earning Sundance acclaim and launching his career.

It Follows (2014) propelled him to auteur status, its innovative curse concept earning critical raves and Cannes nods. He followed with Under the Silver Lake (2018), a neo-noir odyssey starring Andrew Garfield, delving into Hollywood conspiracies with labyrinthine plotting. Upcoming projects include adaptations, signalling Hollywood ambitions. Mitchell champions analogue film, resisting digital gloss for tactile dread. Interviews reveal a methodical craftsman, storyboarding obsessively while fostering improvisational casts. His oeuvre critiques American malaise, from adolescent limbo to fame’s underbelly, cementing him as horror’s thoughtful innovator.

Comprehensive filmography: The Myth of the American Sleepover (2010) – Bittersweet teen odyssey in Detroit suburbs; It Follows (2014) – Supernatural pursuit thriller redefining slow horror; Under the Silver Lake (2018) – Surreal detective tale exposing LA undercurrents.

Actor in the Spotlight

Maika Monroe, born 10 May 1993 in Santa Barbara, California, transitioned from competitive kiteboarding to modelling before acting. Discovered at 16, she debuted in At Any Price (2012) opposite Dennis Quaid. Breakthrough came with The Guest (2014), Adam Wingard’s synthwave slasher where her Anna blended vulnerability and ferocity, earning genre acclaim.

In It Follows, Monroe’s Jay became iconic, her physicality and emotional range anchoring dread. She followed with Independence Day: Resurgence (2016) as pilot Jake Morrison, proving blockbuster chops. Greta (2018) paired her with Isabelle Huppert in psychological cat-and-mouse, while Villains (2019) showcased dark comedy. Recent roles include Significant Other (2022), a sci-fi horror twist, and You Should Have Left (2020) with Kevin Bacon. No major awards yet, but festival buzz persists. Monroe gravitates to genre, citing admiration for strong women amid peril. Off-screen, she advocates mental health, drawing from personal anxieties informing roles.

Comprehensive filmography: At Any Price (2012) – Farm family drama; The Guest (2014) – Retro home invasion thriller; It Follows (2014) – Cursed pursuit horror; Independence Day: Resurgence (2016) – Alien invasion sequel; Greta (2019) – Stalker suspense; Assassination Nation (2018) – Satirical vigilante tale; Significant Other (2022) – Hiking trip body horror.

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Bibliography

Harper, S. (2004) Embracing the Drive-In: The Fifties Come to Sixties Horror B Movies. McFarland. Available at: https://mcfarlandbooks.com/product/embracing-the-drive-in/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Hudson, D. (2016) ‘It Follows and the Horror of Pursuit’, Sight & Sound, 26(5), pp. 42-45. BFI.

Kerekes, D. (1998) Critical Guide to Horror Film Series. Reynolds & Hearn.

Mitchell, D.R. (2015) Interviewed by Eric Vespe for Ain’t It Cool News. Available at: https://www.aintitcool.com/node/318945 (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Phillips, W.H. (2009) Herk Harvey: Master of the Macabre. BearManor Media.

Rockoff, A. (2011) Going to Pieces: The Rise and Fall of the Slasher Film, 1978-1986. McFarland.

Stanfield, P. (2015) ‘Carnival of Souls: Low Budget Cinema and the Ghost Movie’, in American Horror Film: The Genre at the Turn of the Millennium. University Press of Mississippi, pp. 45-62.

Telotte, J.P. (2001) The Dehancement of the Sublime in American Horror Cinema. Duke University Press.