, Gilliam set out to write
a film with general appeal. Over a weekend he came up with the basic
concepts and characters of Time Bandits , a treatment he pitched
theatrically to Denis O’Brien. O’Brien was won over by the
performance, but initially was unable to raise finance for the project
from outside sources. Hand-Made decided to finance the film itself, a
move that involved O’Brien and George Harrison
novel. In this context, Coppola’s Dracula helps us to
recognise the similarities that exist between Stoker’s approach
to the vampire and Meyer’s, and, in both cases, the outcome is at
once compelling and conservative; all-encompassing, yet stifling. The
twenty-first-century vampire may indeed have crossed oceans of time,
but, despite the opportunities presented by this latest popular reworking to
The insights of Gilles Deleuze‘s film-philosophy offers a distinctive theoretical approach to Gothics remarkable affects and temporal effects. Introducing key critical tools, I apply them to Neil Jordan‘s Interview with the Vampire (1994), as well as asserting the broader relevance of Deleuze to Gothic studies.
The following considers Richard Marsh’s 1897 gothic novel The
Beetle in relation to fin-de-siècle anxieties,
specifically sexual deviancy, empire, and venereal disease. While the domestic
Contagious Diseases Acts had been revealed in the 1880s, continued high rates of
VD amongst British soldiers in particular continued the debate as to who was
responsible for spreading diseases such as syphilis both at home and abroad. At
a time of ‘colonial syphiliphobia’, to extend Showalter’s term, The
Beetle suggests the necessity of regulating venereal disease in the
Empire to protect Britain’s ‘racial superiority’ and conservatively warns
against the potential consequences of dabbling with the sexually ‘deviant’ and
This essay investigates how H G Wells’s The Island of Doctor Moreau employs the
gothic trope of the uncanny. Despite Wells’s use of ‘uncanny’ twice to describe
humanized animals, prior critics haven’t explored what the uncanny adds to our
understanding of the novel, perhaps because Freud’s famous essay ‘The ‘Uncanny’
was written in 1913, following The Island of Doctor Moreau by more than two
decades. We argue, however, that both men were working from notions of the
uncanny circulating in fin de siècle Europe and describing a larger colonial
dynamic, so that even though Wells’s work preceded Freud’s, we can use Freud’s
explanation of the uncanny to better understand what Wells was doing and why the
animals in The Island of Doctor Moreau are so unsettling to readers in our time
and in his. That is, the uncanny helps to explain how the novel works as a
gothic. Moreover, by examining how Freud’s theories help us to understand Wells,
we also see elements of Freud’s essay that we wouldn’t otherwise. We will argue
that because Freud and Wells were describing the world around them, overlap is
logical, even predictable, and certainly useful to understanding both
Victor Frankenstein relates his narrative ‘marking the dates with accuracy’, determined that his improbable story will be believed. Through examining the time references, this essay reveals the extent to which the novel is preoccupied with realism and temporal accuracy and demonstrates why the time scheme of Frankenstein is a problem for critics. The narrative can be charted via a consistent and extensive system of time references provided by the three narrators. At a point near the end, Shelley is momentarily vague. Previous decisions on how to deal with this difficulty are opened up to scrutiny, and a detailed chronology of the 1831 version is proposed. Readings which have based their arguments for political or biographical significance on embedded numerology are reexamined using the new chronology.
Gothic productions appear in clusters during the capitalist world-markets transition from one economic cycle to another. Using a world-systems approach, I argue that Gothic narrative devices and sensations are both historically specific to the time of their production and representative of the general logic of capitalist time-space contortions. A world-systems perspective insists on an inter-state relational approach relatively unexplored within Gothic studies. Using Stoker‘s Dracula as a case study, the article claims that Dracula encodes inter-imperialist tensions, primarily those between England and Germany and their proxy agents over South African gold mines in the Transvaal. This antagonism provides the background to the Boer War, itself a forerunner to the First World War‘s battle among imperialists.
William Burroughs’ texts provide us with one of the most self-conscious of guides through an addicted world which is violently dislocated from linear time, while at the same time undermining the reliability of such a guide. In this Gothicised world we cannot trust the account of the addict; but this also implies that we cannot trust ourselves in the moment of addiction to reading. While we are secretly communing with the texts, we are also liable to ‘forget’, or to ignore, the outer parameters which comprise the moral universe; we are freed but, paradoxically, we find difficulty in reporting the content of this freedom. Here we find an essential link, which can also be found across Gothic fiction, to the notion of ‘psychotic rapture’, and a dislocation between the force of the messages ‘broadcast’; to us from the outside and the alignment of these messages with the counterforce of the world of experience.
The introduction to this collection of essays consists of a brief outline of the place of Italy and Italians in British culture as well as a summary of the topics addressed by the contributors. The Gothic novel engages with some of the commonplace assumptions associated with Italy since Shakespeare‘s time. The essays in this collection examine how Italy became a complex geographical and cultural entity based on the unprecedented historical and cultural context in which Gothic writers lived.
Gothic fictions have, from their beginning, been fabrications. Shaped by their time, Anne Rice‘s vampire novels – Interview With The Vampire and The Vampire Lestat – participate in a logic of simulation: the former offers a nostalgic pastiche of Romantic and Baudelairean modernity; the latter an overblown reanimation of pagan and ancient mythologies. For all their nostalgia and recyclings, these postmodern romances remain tied to contemporary ahistorical and reversible axes of consumption and exhaustion, fatally in-human desiring and technological novelties, flaccid fantasies and tired trangressions.