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This horror genre is scary as folk – and perfect October viewing

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This horror genre is scary as folk – and perfect October viewing

In 1973’s The Wicker Man, British policeman (Edward Woodward) visits a remote Scottish island to find that the locals have embraced a form of paganism.

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It’s October. Some of your neighbors will spend this, the official first weekend of spooky season, going all-out with inflatable yard skeletons and ghosts. They will embark upon the annual attempt to make candy corn, aka high-fructose ear wax, a thing. They’ll adorn their front porches with those cotton spider webs that look nothing like real spider webs and instead just make it look like they went and ritually murdered a white sweater so they could hang its dismembered corpse across their doorway as a grisly warning to all other knitwear.

For me, it’s a more simple, elemental formula: Hot cider, cider donuts, folk horror.

The appeal of cider and donuts is universal, but folk horror might need some defining. Essentially, it’s horror set in remote, isolated areas where nature still holds sway. Well, nature paired with the superstitious beliefs of the locals, who tend to treat unwary outsiders with suspicion (if the outsiders are lucky) or malice (if they’re not).

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The classic example is 1973’s The Wicker Man, in which an uptight, devout, and veddy veddy British policeman (Edward Woodward) visits a remote Scottish island to investigate the disappearance of a young girl. Turns out the locals have embraced a form of Celtic paganism, which doesn’t sit right with him. He says as much to the island’s aristocratic leader, a mysterious and charismatic sort played by Christopher Lee. Things don’t end well for our poor British bobby – though presumably the island will enjoy a bountiful harvest, so, you know: Big picture, it’s still a win.

Other founding classics of the genre include 1968’s The Witchfinder General and 1971’s The Blood on Satan’s Claw, which of the three films has the least going for it, apart from its title, which is, all reasonable people can agree, metal AF.

I love me some folk horror, and am never happier than when I can while away a damp, foggy (and thus obligingly atmospheric) October afternoon mainlining new and old examples of the form like Kill List, You Won’t Be Alone, Viy, The Ritual, Häxan, The Medium, Apostle, Midsommar, The Witch, Hereditary, Night of the Demon, A Field in England, Robin Redbreast, and Men. (Looking for more examples? Check out the documentary Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror.)

Florence Pugh in Midsommar.

Florence Pugh in Midsommar.

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Some folk horror involves supernatural elements, but I confess a particular fondness for those stories that don’t – stories where it’s the folk themselves (read: the locals, and their beliefs) who are the true and only source of the horror. (I won’t spoil which of the above films traffic in human vs. supernatural evil, in case you haven’t seen them.)

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Talismans and turtlenecks

The Wicker Man was the first folk horror film I saw as a kid, which is maybe why I harbor a deep love of folk horror set in ’70s Britain, a time and place when an interest in the occult became faddish, inspiring a wave of folk horror specifically inflected with Satanic panic. Many of these films were set in the past, but those like The Wicker Man were set in the then-present, a time when men wore wavy hair and tight bell bottoms. Christopher Lee’s Lord Summerisle, for example, sported a kicky tweed leisure suit topped off by a burnt-orange sweater.

It’s why I think of this very specific subgenre of ‘70s folk horror as Talismans and Turtlenecks.

I just came across a new-to-me example of T & T last Sunday afternoon, which was suitably cold and wet and misty: 1970’s The Dunwich Horror. A stiff-haired Sandra Dee, desperately attempting to shake her goody-goody image, plays a woman who falls under the sway of a young and hilariously intense, wide-eyed Dean Stockwell. (Seriously, you keep waiting for his character to blink, but instead he just keeps goggling fixedly at the world around him. At one point he makes a pot of tea, staring at it so fiercely through every stage of the process you start to wonder if he’s trying to convince it to hop into bed with him.)

Don’t get me wrong: It’s a cheesy film, filled with crummy dialogue and hammy acting and cheap sets and one fight scene so wildly inept that has to be seen to be disbelieved. I won’t reveal if the threat hanging over the film is human or supernatural (though the fact that it’s based on an H.P. Lovecraft short story should tip you off). But I will say that Stockwell sports a thick, curly hairdo, a cravat, two count-em two pinky rings, and a huge mustache that curls under itself at either end, in the process effectively turning my guy’s mouth into a parenthetical statement.

You can watch it for free, with commercials, on Pluto TV, which I swear is a real streaming service and not something I made up. The Dunwich Horror is not remotely scary, but it does have something to say, I suppose, about the madness of crowds and what, back in grad school, we used to call “othering.” (The Stockwell character is the scion of an eccentric family that the local community has shunned for generations, you see.)

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And that, of course, is the abiding appeal of folk horror: It takes those universal feelings of alienation and isolation that make us all feel like outsiders in our own communities and gives them flesh. When the supernatural is involved, sometimes that flesh pulses and oozes. Sometimes it’s furry and clawed.

But whenever the story is about our collective tendency to cling to belief in the supernatural, the flesh involved is all too human, and probably gets stabbed with a sacrificial dagger in the final reel. Happy spooky season, y’all.

This piece also appeared in NPR’s Pop Culture Happy Hour newsletter. Sign up for the newsletter so you don’t miss the next one, plus get weekly recommendations about what’s making us happy.

Listen to Pop Culture Happy Hour on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

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Is “The Godfather: Part II,” the perfect sequel? : Consider This from NPR

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Is “The Godfather: Part II,” the perfect sequel? : Consider This from NPR

The “Kiss of Death” in “The Godfather: Part II”, directed by Francis Ford Coppola, based on the novel ‘The Godfather’ by Mario Puzo. Seen here from left, John Cazale (back to camera) as Fredo Corleone and Al Pacino as Don Michael Corleone.

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The “Kiss of Death” in “The Godfather: Part II”, directed by Francis Ford Coppola, based on the novel ‘The Godfather’ by Mario Puzo. Seen here from left, John Cazale (back to camera) as Fredo Corleone and Al Pacino as Don Michael Corleone.

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Given the fact that it seems like Hollywood churns out nothing but sequels, you would think the industry would have perfected the genre by now.

Some sequels are pretty darn good, but many believe the perfect movie sequel came out 50 years ago this month.

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Of course, we’re talking about Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather: Part II. It’s not only considered the greatest sequel of all time, it’s also considered one of the greatest movies of all time.

So why does Godfather II work, and where so many other sequels fall short?

NPR producer Marc Rivers weighs in.

For sponsor-free episodes of Consider This, sign up for Consider This+ via Apple Podcasts or at plus.npr.org.

Email us at considerthis@npr.org.

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This episode was produced by Brianna Scott and Marc Rivers. It was edited by Courtney Dorning. Our executive producer is Sami Yenigun.

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JoJo Siwa Selling Tarzana Mansion For $4 Million

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JoJo Siwa Selling Tarzana Mansion For  Million

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A fire closed a bookstore named Friends to Lovers. Romance readers kept it afloat

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A fire closed a bookstore named Friends to Lovers. Romance readers kept it afloat

Owner Jamie Fortin opened Friends to Lovers book store on Nov. 14. Three days later, a fire closed her to close the shop.

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Suhyoon Wood with AEDP

When Jamie Fortin moved to Washington, D.C., five years ago, she fell in love with the Virginia neighborhood of Alexandria and vowed to open a small business there. Last month, Fortin’s promise to herself became a reality. She opened Friends to Lovers, a romance-themed bookstore inspired by Meet Cute, a romance bookstore in her hometown of San Diego.

Friends to Lovers celebrated its grand opening on Nov. 14. “It was honestly just so joyful,” Fortin said. “We had a line around the block, which is not something I expected.”

Before the fire, Fortin estimated that Friends to Lovers offered around 800 romance titles.

Before the fire, Fortin estimated that Friends to Lovers offered around 800 romance titles.

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Just three days later, though, Fortin’s excitement went up in smoke after the building caught fire. The store sustained smoke damage, leaving the entire stock of books and merchandise unsafe to sell. Fortin was forced to close the store and go into what she described as “solutions mode.”

Fortin created the Friends and Lovers bookstore to be a space where women and queer people, who make up the overwhelming majority of romance readers, could feel safe.

In the U.S., the demand for romance books is booming. According to Publisher’s Weekly, seven of the top 10 books of the year fell under this category. In August, 550 bookstores across the U.S., U.K. and Canada participated in Bookstore Romance Day — the biggest celebration yet. Many readers have also taken to the internet to share their passion. Romance books dominate the #BookTok, a TikTok community with over 100 billion views. Creators like @listenwithbritt and @kendra.reads share their recommendations and reviews with hundreds of thousands of followers. Their videos have garnered millions of likes and views. Despite the genre’s popularity, Fortin says most of the bookstores she frequented didn’t dedicate much space to the genre. “Even though it may be their most popular selling genre, most bookstores have one or two shelves of romance,” she said.

Extensive smoke damage from the fire meant that Fortin could not sell any of the books or merchandise from the Friends to Lovers store.

At the grand opening of Friends to Lovers, many readers expressed the same sentiment. Some traveled more than an hour to browse the shelves. Readers came from Charlottesville, Va., Baltimore, Md. and more.

“Romance-centered bookstores are sorely lacking,” said Kayla Lloyd, who traveled from Annapolis to check out the bookstore. “We can go to Barnes & Noble and we can see the romance section, but you’re not going to get the selection that’s here.” Fortin says she stocks local and independent authors as well as bestsellers. She estimates that the bookstore offered about 800 titles before the fire.

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“Outside of gay bars in the area, I think that there is definitely a lack of third spaces for people of color and queer people to hang out,” said Eleanor Bodington, a customer at Friends to Lovers.

Fortin partnered with two women who owned small businesses in the area to help launch their brands at the grand opening event. Women and queer-owned businesses also make all of the store’s non-book merchandise, including bags, hats and more. Even her store’s location was intentional, Fortin says. She wanted Friends to Lovers surrounded by other small businesses so that readers would be encouraged to support other entrepreneurs like her after they came to her store. “When I woke up [after the fire], I felt like I needed to live up to this space that I created that people are now relying on as a space they feel at home and safe,” Fortin said.

Fortin partnered with women and queer-owned businesses to create merchandise for her bookstore, including hats and stickers.

Fortin partnered with women and queer-owned businesses to create merchandise for her bookstore, including hats and stickers.

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Despite being open for just a few days, the community Fortin hoped to reach rallied around her business. Donations flooded in, surpassing Fortin’s $20,000 GoFundMe goal in 24 hours. After assessing the full extent of the damage, Fortin increased her donation goal to $45,000, eventually surpassing that one as well.

Fortin says she believes that her dedication to her goal of supporting women and queer businesses, combined with the tight-knit nature of the romance reading community, helped her rebuild quickly. “The community support has really buoyed me and pushed me to create something better out of the ashes, as it were,” she said. “There were more people than I ever expected that cared about my little bookstore.”

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“When you set your mission, and you really stand by it, people say, ‘We love that mission. We’ll live that out as well,”‘ Fortin said.

Fortin opened a long-term pop-up location for Friends to Lovers on Dec. 7 at a nearby business. She continues to search for a new permanent location for the shop.

“It has been so overwhelming. I feel like the community is not letting me sit and wallow in my grief. Instead, they’ve said, ‘We’re going to fix this. We’re going to make sure it’s successful.”‘

Fortin says that because the romance community is used to their traditionally feminine interests not being respected, it doesn’t take the brick-and-mortar location for granted.

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“I think we haven’t always had a lot of overwhelming support for things that women love,” Fortin said. “We love to say that things are ridiculous when women love them. There’s a lot of things that men love that we don’t consider ridiculous.” Fortin points out that teenage girls were the ones who loved the Beatles first before they became a household name. “Romance is one of the genres with the most staying power, that’s always been the least respected.”

“We’re creating a safe space to talk about things that are not celebrated in regular spaces,” she said. “Once women and queer people saw that, everyone said ‘let’s all stand behind this together.”‘

“The outpouring of support has been amazing as a bystander to watch,” said Maryam Bami, owner of Old Town Flower Gal. Bami launched her floral business at the Friends to Lovers grand opening. “I thought I was a fan of romance until I met some of the supporters of the bookstore.” Bami is one of several woman-owned businesses Fortin intentionally collaborated with. “She really just took a chance on all of us and really elevated us in the process,” she said.

Maryam Bami was one of several female entrepreneurs who launched their brand at the Friends to Lovers grand opening. Bami owns Old Town Flower Gal, a floral shop that specializes in "flower bombs."

Maryam Bami was one of several female entrepreneurs who launched their brand at the Friends to Lovers grand opening. Bami owns Old Town Flower Gal, a floral shop that specializes in “flower bombs.”

Courtesy Maryam Bami


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Courtesy Maryam Bami

As Fortin writes a new chapter for Friends to Lovers, she still views her community of business owners as vital to the bookstore’s success. She hopes readers supporting her rebuilding efforts will also patronize the nearby businesses that were also affected by the fire. She’s also encouraged supporters to donate to fundraisers for other businesses affected by the fire. “Women have constantly had to lift each other up and be each other’s solid ground,” she said. “If [my business] has all this hype and support and encouragement, I need to use that to build up other women and other brands.”

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