The Gothic Romance and Haunting Ghosts of CRIMSON PEAK
Legendary Pictures“Ghosts are real, that much I know.” This is the opening line of 2015’s Crimson Peak, Guillermo del Toro’s big-budget gothic romance. The Mexican director has become known for high-concept genre films, the likes of which are seldom financed by studios due to the ever-popular success of more bombastic, action-heavy films. A shame, for del Toro’s brand of filmmaking is quite unique: he creates fantastical worlds filled with nightmarish creatures, but he never downright makes horror films meant to scare audiences. Instead, he crafts dark fairy tales, both in content and structure, always ending with bittersweet conclusions and simple, universal messages that can be embraced by everyone regardless of their origin.
Del Toro is also a famous cinephile and bibliophile, and, out of his entire filmography, Crimson Peak most explicitly puts these two passions at the forefront. Right from the opening, with Mia Wasikowska’s haunting narration as Edith Cushing, he establishes that this will be a ghost story and a gothic tale. The genesis of this fiction subgenre is often attributed to the 1764 classic novel The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole, which set up many of the tropes and key features of these tales: haunted grounds, decadent castles, doomed love stories, restless ghosts, violent insanity, and grieving through a time of great crisis. Many authors dabbled in this type of stories, from Edgar Allan Poe and Nikolai Gogol to the Brontë sisters and Robert Louis Stevenson, creating iconic characters that would be among the first to be successfully adapted on the silver screen.
Del Toro has always heavily featured grief and ghosts in his films, and his love for horror cinema and literature shines through in Crimson Peak both with direct references and more or less subtle homages. Something that instantly stands out is the name of Edith’s family: Cushing, which brings to mind the legendary Peter Cushing, who embodied many classic literary figures like Doctor Van Helsing, Sherlock Holmes, and Doctor Frankenstein in many Hammer Horror productions. The location of Allerdale Hall is heavily reminiscent of the description of Thornfield Hall from Jane Eyre, while some of the ghostly apparitions call back to the infamous bathtub scene in The Shining, the creepy wheelchair in The Changeling. Del Toro himself cited both Jack Clayton’s The Innocents and Robert Wise’s The Haunting as the basis of his inspiration, with their lingering sense of unease from beginning to end and slow descent into madness for their female characters – another staple of the genre. There are also minor other references that do not directly pertain to period horror: for instance, the first, gruesome kill in the movie, where Carter Cushing gets his head smashed on a sink by a black-gloved killer, is a direct homage to the Giallo slashers of Mario Bava, while the strongly metaphorical visual of yellow butterflies being eaten by black ants builds a similar statement to that of the opening of Blue Velvet, where insects devouring one another under the surface mirror the hidden darkness of certain people. The filmmaker even references his own Devil’s Backbone in the design of Thomas Sharpe’s ghost.
This is the strongest element that sets Crimson Peak apart from many other modern gothic films: the old classics were made with limited technological means to execute some special effects, while new ones rely almost entirely on digital effects, which lack the texture and believability to successfully pull off certain scenes. Guillermo del Toro, always a big defender of practical effects, blends these two styles to create the ultimate send-off for the genre. Everything looks and feels tangible because, well, it is! The ghosts are portrayed by renowned creature performers Javier Botet and Doug Jones, both wearing heavy makeup and highly detailed costumes that add a lot of physicality and presence, with minimal CGI used to make them lightly transparent to blend into the locations. Most importantly, the entirety of Allerdale Hall was built from the ground up as one interconnected set, which took a huge chunk of the budget but paid off immensely. The production design of Thomas E. Sanders was fundamental in creating this decadent mansion, with a strong sense of verticality that is used multiple times to great effects, either through sumptuous camera moves through the various floors or in a dangerous stunt at the end of the second act where Edith falls from top to bottom. The in-camera effects help in making the film timeless, while the old-school transitions between scenes further reinforce the throwback nature of the production.
All of these elements are necessary to get to the core of what Crimson Peak is really about. While wrongly marketed as a haunted house horror film, del Toro often reminded in interviews that this was meant to be a gothic romance first and foremost. The director does not look down on his audience, and as soon as Thomas and Lucille Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston and Jessica Chastain) are introduced, it is instantly clear that there is something off with them, courtesy also of the costume design by Kate Hawley. However, during the valse between Edith and Thomas, every filmmaking element comes together to create a spectacular scene that is pure romance: Hiddleston and Wasikowska dancing together with a lit candle in their hands, Fernando Velázquez’s sweeping music dictating their movements, Dan Laustsen’s camera doing a dance of its own, with everyone’s eyes fixed on the couple . . . It is in moments like that, or whenever Edith and Thomas interact in Allerdale Hall, that it is clear that del Toro never set out to make a simple ghost story.
Ghosts, for almost as long as literature has existed, have almost exclusively been used as metaphors for the past, lingering and unable to leave until faced head-on. This sentiment is stated in almost meta fashion in the first act of the film, as Edith has been writing a gothic novel: “It’s more a story with a ghost in it. The ghost is just a metaphor. For the past.” There are many metaphorical ghosts in the film: Mr. Cushing, ever the hard-working man, is unable to accept the conveniences of the industrial revolution that the Sharpe siblings are bringing from England; Edith has suffered the tremendous loss of her mother as a child, only to experience the gory demise of her father; Thomas and Lucille Sharpe are trying to outrun their violent past to build an impossible, incestuous future together (Lucille’s line “The horror was for love” is a standout); even Allerdale Hall itself, with its white grounds turning red from the warm clay during winter, shows how its violent history will inevitably come to the surface.
But the story also has literal ghosts in it, though never malevolent and always helpful. An interesting way to examine the ghosts is by how they are colour coded: the red ghosts (i.e. those roaming Allerdale Hall, killed by Lucille Sharpe) are doomed to live there forever, black ghosts (i.e. Edith’s mother and Lucille’s) choose to stay behind on Earth, while white ghosts (i.e. Thomas Sharpe) are able to leave this world for the next one. This interpretation is supported by Thomas’ arc through the film: once forced by his sister in an unhealthy scheme to inherit the patrimony of orphan girls around Europe, his relationship with Edith makes him rethink his entire life, ultimately deciding to save her and sacrifice himself for her. While ridiculed by some upon release, the brief sex scene between these two characters is needed in further developing them: Thomas is able to break free of his sister’s hold on him, embracing the woman he loves, redeeming himself for his mistakes and idleness, ultimately justifying his soul’s departure from Allerdale Hall and into the afterlife.
The red ghosts of Crimson Peak are equal parts ghoulish and tragic, all scarred by grotesque facial injuries. In fact, every death in the film has some form of harm to the head, be it stabbed or crushed. This violent aftermath can be seen in every ghost, with elongated visages that deny them any semblance of identity: these poor souls are tied to these haunted grounds forever, unable to be separated from how they died. But, as silly as it may sound, Guillermo del Toro’s Crimson Peak reminds audiences that the past should be embraced and not pointlessly outrun, and that true love can bring salvation and redemption to everyone.
It is unfortunate that this film has been categorised as “a lesser del Toro” and a weak horror film when its heart is so clearly set on a romantic course. Hopefully, in the coming years and with the upcoming release of Nightmare Alley, more people will come back to this gem of a film, and Velázquez’s music will sweep them off their feet into this delightfully gothic and deeply moving narrative.