Is there love after death? There is but there really shouldn’t be when it comes to the physical corner of that question. No matter what Jörg Buttgereit might say about it. John McNaughton (the excellent Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer and the equally excellent but for way different reasons Wild Things) tackles a Clive Barker short story concerning a desperate widower drowning in grief and the necromancer he visits about bringing his wife back. The cautious woman shares a warning with him in the form of a horrifying tale about a brash medical student and forbidden knowledge. Ernest Haeckel comes from the Frankenstein (who gets a mention) school of med student where instead of mastering acceptable ideologies of his chosen field, he’s becoming slightly obsessed with the idea of resurrection and the reanimation of the dead. The body man he works with points him in the direction of a necromancer by the name of Montesquino (Jon fuckin’ Polito rocking a wonderful mustache) who claims to have the ability to restore life to that which no longer has it. Being a man of science, he’s not so trusting of the man who claims a mastery of the dark arts but a demonstration with a very dead dog has him curious. Even if what comes back ain’t exactly normal. It’s enough to bring the aspiring doctor back to the possible con man to figure out how Montesquino seems to be able to do what he does. Before he can dig any deeper into the mystery, Ernest receives word his father’s illness has taken a terminal turn and he’s forced to head home to speak with his dad before it becomes too late. He camps near an old cemetery when night falls and a storm hits but is invited by an elderly man to stay in his home, as it would be foolish to spend the night near the dead… especially this night. Ernest is happy to have a warm bed, some hot soup and wine but he also becomes enamored with the man’s lovely young wife. Something the old man seems to enjoy prying into rather playfully. There’s definitely some perversion going down in the house but it is a warm bed and at least half of the perverted weirdos are attractive, so the young man doesn’t flee into the rainy night. Unsteady sleep has him waking up to see Montesquino arrive and then watch as the man’s wife runs off into the darkness following some unknown calls, leaving her child behind. The old man warns Haeckel not to chase after and that the child is not his. He also assures the young man that the necromancer is the real deal and only awfulness awaits him if he goes looking for answers. The old man is right and the sights which await Haeckel are something no sane mind is prepared for. A very simple but very well-crafted bit of the macabre makes me wish McNaughton tackled more straightforward horror during his career. Although, I would not want to trade his shockingly mature vision of exploitation but why couldn’t we have both? So, many thanks to Masters of Horror for showing this side of the director.
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