TV Review: Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities
The Mexican movie visionary shows us his television cabinet, and boy does it contain some entertaining phantoms and fables
The horror anthology genre always gets the better of my curiosity. Catching episodes HBO’s Tales from The Crypt on (very) late night television in my curious teenage years would sometimes scare yet would always entertain with its quirky styles, humour, and often horrifying content. It came at a time when television standards were much stricter, with HBO successfully pushing even its own boundaries, the results of which remain a truly unique milestone in television. Today, television content has much less censorship boundaries, with many other anthology efforts, notably American Horror Stories, that contain a similar level of big budget graphic content. Over at Netflix, a new contender has emerged, entitled Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities, and immediately my interest piqued into overdrive.
There is immediate elation to see the visionary helm of Pan’s Labyrinth himself as he presents cryptic introductions to each of these eight gruesome/haunting/weird tales, evoking memories of that HBO era, as well as a sense of authenticity to each tale. Memories of Alfred Hitchcock Presents or The Twilight Zone, both leading with opening monologue to tease the each tale about to be told. The genre has a long-standing history in entertainment, and it is nice to see Del Toro continue one of its great traditions.
Although del Toro may not at the directorial helm for any of these twisted tales, but he is certainly the curator. He has assembled recent horror-related directorial talent such as Jennifer Kent of The Babadook fame among others. Guillermo’s penchant for the twisted fairy tale, with an added dose of unfiltered gruesomeness when required, remains constant and consistent throughout. And of course, and exuberating sense of curiosity. Clue is in the title, folks.
The weirdest of these tales is the darkly humorous The Outside, as Stacey (played by the ever brilliantly awkward Kate Micucci) longs to become equal in beauty to her glamourous yet gossipy colleagues at work. The allure of Alo Glo, a somewhat subliminally-sold (and exquisitely so by Dan Stevens) tv commercial skin reviving treatment consumes Stacey, the effects of which become increasingly absurd, provoking protests from her loving husband. The message is clear: be careful what you wish for.
Other highlights include the hugely stress-inducing and claustrophobic Graveyard Rats, as we meet graverobber Masson seeing his efforts ruined by rats in the underground. As he become even more financially desperate for the stolen wealth from the dead he soon takes the conflict to the rat tunnels themselves. From there you always get the feeling it isn’t going to end well yet you cannot look away. Likewise with The Viewing, boasting the always-worth-a-watch Peter Weller, yet sadly once his great work is over, a tale that drags on getting to the point, dies a death. And for its entertaining qualities and high production lies the series’ biggest problem; the total running time of the series comes in at almost seven hours when it should have been told in four. By the end of series finale, The Murmuring, came around, which has undeniably great haunting qualities, terrific performances and execution, I found myself simply thinking ‘please just get to the point’. It really didn’t to be an hour long. But nevertheless, Netflix can be applauded for allowing Del Toro and his collaborators to work devoid of time restrictions despite freedom on content. At least the content remains true to the creator’s visions, with much more to celebrate than debate.