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I’ve always been bothered by the common horror-story trope that vampires can’t be seen in mirrors. If they can be seen with the naked eye, it means they reflect light. If they reflect light, they will be visible in mirrors. But, in addition to not making sense, the whole idea seems needless and tacked-on; which kind of detracts from the scariness of vampires, I think.

So I searched on this phenomenon, and it turns out, according to “J” at Yahoo answers, that people believed that mirrors reflected the soul of a person, not just the actual person. Vampires, having no souls, don’t show up in mirrors.

For some reason–and forgive me for going all geeky here–I find this to be rather absurd. I don’t know why; and obviously it’s silly to complain about this being unbelievable–vampires are mythical creatures and therefore the whole thing is no more unbelievable than the rest of it. And yet I can’t help but find that sometimes some elements of the fiction screw up the rest of it for me.

Some people find this irritating, and I guess I see their point.  I know sounds ridiculous to demand “believability” from fictional stories. But forgive me if I believe that fiction needs to have “internal logic”. More than that, there is a chance of a writer putting in too many fantastic or unreal elements, so that it all becomes utterly unbelievable and ruins the immersion.

One of the most illuminating explanations of this problem comes from a rather unlikely source. In his book A Most Ingenious Paradox: The Art of Gilbert and Sullivan, Gayden Wren writes:

“Most… Gilbert and Sullivan operas rely on a single preposterous element–the witch’s curse in Ruddigore, for example, or The Yeomen of the Guard‘s masked marriage–which are subsequently treated plausibly enough that each opera as a whole seems logical.” (Emphasis added.)

What Wren describes is indeed a key part of G and S’s humor, but I believe that writers of the horror genre would have even more to gain by following this method. You can maybe get away with an anything-goes illogicality in comedies. It is often very jarring in a horror story.

To tie all this back in with the vampires: I suppose this overabundance of implausibility is an inevitable consequence of the way mythology and folklore work–a story gets new facets and touches every time it is retold. The vampire myth–on which, I admit, I’m no expert–seems remotely possible, and thus scary, if you’re just going on the premise that there exist beings which can subsist on human blood for a very long time.

I can easily imagine that this was how it all started–but over centuries other details, like turning into bats, can’t go out in sunlight, vulnerable to crucifixes, holy water, garlic etc. all got thrown into the mix by various people.

All this adds up to make the whole myth much less scary. One unbelievable element I can take; a dozen is much harder. And while I’m never going to actually believe in anything I read in a horror book or see in a movie, it is possible to subconsciously be put on edge by a well-done horror story.

This is one reason I like many of H.P. Lovecraft‘s stories. He was fairly successful, I feel, at using only a single implausible idea–the “Great Old Ones“–and then following it logically. I certainly don’t believe such ideas, but it sounds remotely possible. (And unknowable, since the Old Ones exist in other dimensions and in far reaches of the Universe.)

In something of an irony, though, much of the “Cthulhu mythos” was redesigned by August Derleth and now suffers from the same flaws that befell other myths–too many unnecessary elements thrown in that spoil the original frightening elements. (For me, this is. Some love Derleth’s work. To each his or her own.)

Still perhaps this quest to find horror that really does seem believable while being simultaneously entertaining is a Quixotic one. After all, there’s only so scared one can get reading a book or watching a movie. Even my favorite horror movie ever, The Omen (The ’76 one, not the ’06 remake) still suffers from too many unbelievable and needless elements that are unrelated to the central premise.

I guess to really get immersed in a horror story, my best bet is probably video games. After all, at least in games like Doom 3, F.E.A.R. and Dead Space, you are the one wandering around in the dark, not passively watching or imagining some character doing it. So, even if there are implausible elements, it’s easier to forget about them.

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There are some artworks, pieces of literature and forms of entertainment that lend themselves to being enjoyed in particular seasons, weather conditions, or times of day. For example, the book The King in Yellow that I posted about the other day is, in my opinion, best read on a sunny, pleasant, late summer day. This is sort of unusual for a work of weird fiction, but the horror of the book is primarily psychological, and is sometimes offset by a a peaceful, pleasant setting.

Sometimes the natural environment most complementary to a story is obvious; Lovecraft’s The Haunter of the Dark must be read in a lightning storm because a lightning storm is central to the story. Others are less obvious; the movie Lawrence of Arabia is more fun to watch at night than on a hot summer day–though perhaps overheating is the reason.

As I’ve already pointed out on this blog, I find the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta The Sorcerer lends itself to being listened to on warm, gray days. (And Ruddigore, obviously, is a natural for Halloween.)

Then there are some things that lend themselves to various seasons. In my opinion, you haven’t read Harry Potter till you’ve read it while sitting outside on a cool October evening. And I’ve found that some video games–like both Mass Effects–are most fun to play on dark winter nights. (Though, of course, that could be because they require a big time investment, and there few distractions in winter.)

One of things that was great about the sport of football was how it used to be played on either a beautiful fall afternoon, a dreary November evening, or a cold, snowy day (or night). These are all memorable, dramatic settings; and much more enjoyable to watch, I think, than the sterile setting of a dome which we see more and more of.

On the other hand, of course, these are just my personal preferences and may not be shared by anyone else. I have no particular point in this post other than to set you thinking if there’s any particular work of art, piece of entertainment or sport that is best under certain natural conditions. It’s quite a fun thing to experiment with, in my opinion. But I’m weird that way.

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Now, I should say that G&S are at about their worst in Utopia, Limited, in my personal opinion, but these performers make it quite enjoyable nonetheless. I used to hate this song until I heard this performance of it.

(To be fair, though, G&S at their worst is still well above some of the things that competed against them in their day!)

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“Our mortal race
Is never blest.
There’s no such case
As perfect rest;
Some petty blight
Asserts its sway.
Some crumbled rose-leaf light
Is always in the way!”

        –W.S. Gilbert. Utopia, Limited. Act I. 1893.

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The 1953 D’Oyly Carte performance of The Sorcerer.

I’ve found that there’s a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta that works for every atmosphere and mood. The Sorcerer is best listened to on a warm, gray day. Sullivan’s music is very evocative of that sort of setting, which I guess is the typical “English village” atmosphere.

It’s true that it’s not their best work, or even close to it. (As somebody once put it: “At times, Gilbert seems to have missed the memo that it was a comic opera.”) But still, it’s pretty good listening if you’re in the right sort of mood.

Also, there is something pretty funny about the fact that when the Sorcerer invokes demons while brewing a love potion, it doesn’t seem to raise any red flags for the hero of the piece. I hope that was intentional on Gilbert’s part.


(Image: Drawing of the incantation scene from The Sorcerer from 1877. Via Wikipedia.)

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“Be eloquent in praise of the very dull old days
   which have long since passed away,
And convince ’em, if you can, that the reign of good Queen Anne was Culture’s palmiest day.
Of course you will pooh-pooh whatever’s fresh and new,
   and declare it’s crude and mean,
For Art stopped short in the cultivated court 

Roger Ebert was named the “Webby Person of the Year” for his “contributions to the craft of online writing and journalism. In addition to his film criticism, which remains as eloquent as ever, his online journal has raised the bar for the level of poignancy, thoughtfulness and critique one can achieve on the Web.”

“Film criticism”? “Eloquent”? Give me a break. This guy gave Avatar four stars, and then has the guts to say that video games aren’t art. One can almost hear the Roger Eberts of a century ago complaining that “it’s not art if it’s captured on film!” The arrogance is appalling… which is probably why he liked Avatar so much.

As for “raising the bar for thoughtfulness one can achieve on the web”, well… over to you, John Nolte!

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I don’t really know if this is part of a series or what it is exactly, but what a splendid performance! Pity they didn’t do a full-length one. Trial by Jury is probably the most cynical of all Gilbert and Sullivan’s collaborations, and yet it makes you feel so happy at the same time.

Also, just watching this, I’m always amazed by how marvelously natural Gilbert’s lyrics are, even this early in his career:

“I’m not prepossessing/As you may be guessing/She couldn’t endure me a day./Recall my professing/When you are assessing/The damages Edwin must pay.”

He makes it look effortless.

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Many years ago, I got a recording of The Pirates of Penzance on Easter. I listened to the whole thing that day, and ever since, I have found that Easter always makes me think of that operetta, and the operetta always makes me think of Easter.

Yeah, I suppose that is pretty weird. Anyway, for your enjoyment, here’s a video I found of the opening song:

I’ve made a few LEGO animations myself, and I know that it takes a long time to animate even 30 seconds. This must’ve taken quite awhile to make.

P.S. Incidentally, the name of this blog comes from the description of the scene for Act II of The Pirates of Penzance. 

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“Government by Party! Introduce that great and glorious element… and all will be well! No political measures will endure, because one Party will assuredly undo all that the other Party has done; and… the legislative action of the country will be at a standstill. Then there will be sickness in plenty, endless lawsuits, crowded jails, interminable confusion in the Army and Navy, and, in short, general and unexampled prosperity!”–W.S. Gilbert, Utopia, Limited. Act II. 1893.