This is a re-run with only the slightest of edits, so please don’t 
ask me what the heck I was thinking when I wrote any given entry into this 
section.
Particularly innocently faithful priest Peter (Gene LeBrock) and his family – 
wife Annie (Barbara Bingham) and little kids Martin (Troll 2’s Michael 
Stephenson) and Carole (Theresa F. Walker) move into the wrong house, or really, 
are maneuvered into moving into that place by his mentor, one Reverend Jonathan 
(Stephen Brown), I think. Please keep in mind this movie was written by Claudio 
Fragasso, so half of the logical connections have to be provided by the viewer 
or the film would go from “makes no goddamn sense at all” to the noise a brain 
makes when it dribbles out of a helpless cult film blogger’s ears.
Anyhow, it’s really not a good place for a family to stay, for the house is 
haunted by a bunch of women in black shrouds – of course once burned for 
witchcraft they may or may not have committed – who like to tear holes in the 
fabric of reality, produce dry ice fog of astonishing density, and kidnap 
children for sport. These charming dead persons are lead by a dead child 
murderess (Mary Coulson, I believe) who not just murdered her little 
victims but ate their souls to be able to bring them down to her favourite 
demon’s part of wherever he dwells.
It was an encounter with that lovely woman right before she was executed on 
the electric chair that broke down the faith of Peter’s old seminary friend – 
who unlike Peter became a Catholic priest – George (David Brandon ably 
assisted by buckets full of sweat). Ever since, George has sort of dropped out 
of the priesthood, has sort of become an alcoholic, is looking for knowledge Man 
Was Not Meant to Know. and may or may not be possessed by the demon the 
murderess prayed to, depending on the mood of Fragasso when he wrote any given 
scene. In any case, when the shrouded ladies get rude, it’s George who helps 
Peter in various ways, until the whole thing fake-climaxes in a hilarious 
exorcism and other assorted nonsense.
As we all know, when Bruno Mattei and Claudio Fragasso ended their 
partnership, Mattei took with him whatever actual sense there was between the 
two (and given Mattei’s later output, that statement is rather frightening), 
while Fragasso went on to transfer full control to his Id and gave us Troll 
2. Shot in the same year as that epochal achievement, and featuring the 
same non-acting child actor in Michael Stephenson, Beyond Darkness will 
probably always be “the normal one” in comparison, seeing as it features a 
vaguely understandable plot, contains only half a dozen or so scenes that might 
traumatise the unprepared by their sheer fucking weirdness, and even tells a – 
if completely unrelatable and absurdly structured – story about faith lost and 
found and glowing holes in the wall that lead to another dimension belonging to 
demons none of the three priests in the film calls Hell.
Of course, compared with Troll 2, most films are “the normal one”, 
and you can’t really say Fragasso didn’t apply most of his powers of coming up 
with sheer bizarre bullshit dressed up in improbable dialogue while setting his 
camera at an angle when shooting Beyond Darkness. This is after all 
still a film that has its perhaps sometimes possessed doubting priest suddenly 
popping up at his old mentor’s church to sweat profusely and jam a bit on the 
organ while both men babble nonsense about demons a theology doctorate wouldn’t 
help one understand, a film where there’s a scene shot via flying knife cam, and 
whose kidnap, rescue and possession plot is told in the most convoluted way 
possible. But hey, I’m pretty sure the good guys win thanks to mentor guy 
shouting at a demon really loudly while staying home in his church until a 
Satanic bible burns and mentor guy himself dies from a heart attack (see, you 
can hear Fragasso think, my film’s just like The Exorcist); which is 
pretty good, because without that, Peter and Annie would have sacrificed their 
own son to the demons – and only Peter has the excuse of being possessed at the 
time.
This kind of nonsense is obviously only the tip of the iceberg of nonsense 
and non-sequiturs Beyond Darkness barfs into our eyes, ears and brains. 
I might be mixing my metaphors a little here but this is only appropriate when 
talking about a Fragasso film. In fact, it’s more or less the same approach 
Beyond Darkness is applying to storytelling. Visually, Fragasso is all 
about all kinds of crooked camera angles that are probably meant to be stylish 
and creepy but most of the time seem tacky and weird, incredible amounts of dry 
ice fog, glowing holes in walls (with dry ice fog coming through them, 
obviously), dry ice fog,  close-ups of eyes, dry ice fog, and more dry ice fog. 
Well, that and sweat, because all of the actors seem permanently drenched in a 
way that might – like a few other elements here – suggest some sort of misguided 
homage to Lucio Fulci, with David Brandon so caught up in the hot sweating 
action it’s a wonder nobody drowned in his fluids.
From time to time, between the nonsensical, the inane, and the bizarre, 
Fragasso also hits on an image that’s honestly creepy, like the shrouded (or 
really, wearing something that suggests he has seen The Woman in Black 
and/or photos of Victorian mourning garb) women stretching their hands through 
walls, doors, etc, again demonstrating that you don’t need to watch a “good” 
movie to see something shudder-worthy.
So, how much did I love this wondrous abomination of a film? Well, I wouldn’t 
want to marry it right now, but I’m interested in a long-term relationship full 
of speeches about demons, tasteless child ghosts, and some good old dimensional 
rifts in the walls.
Friday, July 3, 2020
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