Animated horror film The Spine of Night will undoubtedly draw several well-earned comparisons. The bold imagery created by directors Philip Gelatt and Morgan Galen are a love letter to 1981’s delirious genre ode Heavy Metal, unfolding with a similarly unhinged freedom. The rotoscoped fantasy stylings harken back to Frank Frazetta and Ralph Bakshi’s collaboration in 1983’s Fire & Ice, offering 21st century audiences a new showcase of lavish animation. And if Lucio Fulci had unlimited resources to make his sword-and-sorcery acid-trip Conquest and as an ode to Robert E. Howard (Cthulhu mythos ties included), then the result might’ve looked something like this gleefully-ultraviolent animated fantasy epic.
With a stacked cast voicing its magicians and warriors and a scope that stretches from creation myth to accursed battle-apocalypse, The Spine of Night doesn’t lack ambition. A solemn opening follows swamp druid Tzod (Lucy Lawless) as she treks across frozen peaks to the lair of Richard E. Grant’s fading Guardian. There, amid the blue glow of a sacred “bloom,” she recounts a tale of ages locked in turmoil. Linked by their conversation, this is the chronicle of a fully-realized fantasy world awash in electric blue magic. A ruthless barbarian (Joe Manganiello) and petty lord (Patton Oswald) slaughter, scheme and suffer mystic consequences. Ages later, Betty Gabriel’s warrior librarian finds herself caught between her order’s quest for ultimate knowledge and a dark sorcerer’s eldritch machinations. In a steampunk future, crow assassins strike a desperate blow against a god-king. Limbs are rent, gods are slain, blood magic flows, all while the mystic Guardian laments man’s cycles of war and power.
That narrative sprawl is unfortunately as muddled as it is gorgeous. Despite the anchoring gravitas from Grant and Lawless, the supporting voice talent oscillates between bored reading and clunky cliches that come off far better in a graphic novel than spoken aloud. While the kingdoms change with the ages, each segment repetitively hammers themes of corrupting power and human greed; any character personality beyond surface archetypes is drowned in blood and exposition. The rotoscope limitations end up seeming like a retro shackle hindering more emotive animations and expressive dynamism to fill in the void of characterization.
Still, such shortcomings are swiftly overwhelmed by a surge of gore and delirious metal-album-come-to-life spectacle. Skull-adorned warriors and hell priests reduce their enemies to bloody shreds, heads and bodies are split in painstaking detail, flames of both magical and napalm variety strip skin and muscle down to charred bone. Occult rituals unleash Lovecraftian body horror; airships and bloom-augmented iron soldiers lay waste to feudal cities. A new display of battle, brutality, or otherworldly awe is always a scene away, and the lurid onslaught ensures that film entertains the on a visceral level even when the plot fails to connect.
In spite of its clunky script and repetitive narrative, The Spine of Night understands its greatest strengths and indulges in the Grand Guignol possibilities of its fantasy epic. Directors Gelatt and King deliver a breathtaking abundance of fantasy carnage that should please splatter fans and dark fantasy diehards alike.
Photo courtesy of RLJE Films
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