Messiah of Evil (1973) “They say that nightmares are dreams perverted” (Review)

In Messiah of Evil (1973), co-written, produced and directed by Gloria Katz and William Huyck, Arletty travels to the seaside town of Point Dume to visit her estranged father. Upon arrival, she finds her father’s house deserted and the town inhabited by sinister locals. As she tries to unravel the mystery of her father’s disappearance, she uncovers a series of bizarre incidents that all lead to a truly dark conclusion.

As Arletty states, Point Dume is just another neon stucco town, a small seaside resort on the coast. The inherent darkness of off season resort towns is deliciously evoked in the film, a bleak form of melancholy that can only arise when the tourists have departed and the formerly packed streets are deserted. As we follow the characters down dark, dimly lit streets we become increasingly aware that the death and decay of the town is directly linked to the grisly actions of its residents.

Much is made of Romero’s zombies as symbols for social criticism. Messiah of Evil is in the same vein, but is often ignored in the discourse. Whilst the symbolism here is bound up in the dreamlike narrative of the rest of the film, there is still a biting critique of capitalism and its violent ends. We only need to consider the contrast between Arletty’s father’s home, a swinging 70’s ode to bohemia that sits above the crashing waves, and the crumbling facade of the rest of the town, where shops lay vacant, windows scattered with price reductions and seasonal offers. This critique is never clearer than in the grocery store scene which is particularly evocative as a critique of capitalism and consumerism, as the ravening horde of townsfolk try to satiate their endless hunger. There is also the presence of the dark stranger, a spectre who haunts the town. It is said that he will return to a world disillusioned, one that has returned to the old gods and dark ways, a foretelling of the dark paranoia of the 1970s and, unfortunately, still relevant today. Maybe we should be on the lookout in our own decimated towns, peering into the faces of our neighbours to see the shimmer of madness in their eyes, and the glimmer of blood on their teeth. In this way, Messiah of Evil does what all great films of the 1970s do, it reminds us that fashion may change but suffering is forever. The fate of the women in the film is a mirror of the gender politics of the age, but the terror of being a woman alone in a strange place remains chilling today. However as much things change, they still remain the same, in neon stucco beach towns and elsewhere.

We get the feeling throughout that Arletty is always one step behind, chasing answers. By the time she arrives in Point Dume, her father has already left, leaving behind only secrets and an ominous diary. As she searches the town, she is always coming across a recently departed scene, finding still smoking fire pits on the beach, giving the impression people have just departed. This isolation, combined with her confusion over the events surrounding her father’s apparent breakdown, adds to the overall air of mystery in the film. There is a strange, and ephemeral quality, emphasised by the dream-like sequences and the lack of clear motive and resolution. This can often make a film feel frustrating, like an unfinished story, but here it works. The hazy nature of the events happening in Point Dume, and the shadowy motives of its residents is captivating, and holds the viewer in a fever dream.

If you like a gritty 70’s aesthetic, an intriguing murder mystery vibe and a giallo sensibility, then Messiah of Evil is for you. It has it all, a woman arriving in the dead of night to find answers, dogged by creepy residents doing secret deeds, all of them haunted by the howls that fill the night air. It has the growing sense of paranoia that is always so thrillingly evoked in films of this era, and a supernatural undertone that hints at annihilation and destruction.

4/5

Megan’s Archive: Messiah of Evil (1973)