"The New American prosperity of the early 1950s was won atop the largest bone pile in human history. World War II had claimed the lives of over 40 million soldiers and civilians, and introduced two radical new forms of mechanized death - the atomic bomb and the extermination camp - that seriously challenged the mind's ability to absorb, much less cope with, the naked face of horror at mid-century. And only five years after the fall of Germany and Japan, America was once again at war, this time a 'police action' in Korea haunted by the specter of the H-bomb, a looming necro-technology now shared uneasily with the Soviets. If America in 1950 was filled with the smell of new cars, it was still permeated by the stench of mass death, and the threat of more to come." (David J. Skal,
The Monster Show: A Cultural History of Horror, p. 229)
Carnival of Souls (one star total) was released two years after Alfred Hitchcock's
Psycho (1960) changed everything about horror movies, three years after
The Twilight Zone (1959) turned Cold War terminology into an abstract but mainstream TV series, and four years after the Saltair Pavilion (1893) was closed down on the southern shore of Utah's Great Salt Lake. That should tell you where the ideas might have come from for a young, unmarried woman driving cross-country toward a twist ending, and an abandoned amusement park haunted by Death. Having lived in Salt Lake City, where
Carnival of Souls (1962) was filmed, I recognized a few locations immediately. Aside from Saltair (now a concert venue
where I saw The Strokes and Third Eye Blind), there's the wall surrounding Temple Square, the most historic tourist attraction downtown, where the main character gets "ignored" by a cop. There's also a scene in the park at City Hall when she passes out, right at the corner where my wife and I used to go for bubble tea. I can't help but wonder, was the idea for a job as a church organist was inspired by the Salt Lake Tabernacle pipe organ? The "theater" organ she's hired to play (pictured below) is minuscule in comparison to the Tabernacle's, but apparently it's capable of sounding creepier. Forget the familiar story that gets recycled in
Carnival of Souls because the movie's really more about imagery and a particular point in pop culture. Stained glass windows and big, empty, old cathedrals have scared me since John Carpenter's
Prince of Darkness (1987) but here, church and recreation come together in a dreamlike danse macabre. 1962 marked the "death" of the Golden Age of Radio with the final broadcast of one of its most popular programs,
Suspense (1942). Whether the "TV generation" needed more sights than sounds to be horrified, or whether this transition gets indirectly referenced in
Carnival of Souls is my own conjecture.
The rise of TV was blamed for a lot of things, including the closure of the Saltair Pavilion. When the main character is unable to find anything on the radio but old-timey gospel music, it could just be to create atmosphere. Then again, it could be signifying the "death" of an era - the switch from swing dances to counterculture peace rallies, poodle skirts to mini skirts and "The Greatest Generation" to the baby boomers. After all, if teenage drag racers weren't hallucinating zombies before
Carnival of Souls, they certainly were after JFK's assassination the next year or the increased draft to Vietnam the year after that.
Carnival of Souls (one star total) was released two years after Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho (1960) changed everything about horror movies, three years after The Twilight Zone (1959) turned Cold War terminology into an abstract but mainstream TV series, and four years after the Saltair Pavilion (1893) was closed down on the southern shore of Utah's Great Salt Lake. That should tell you where the ideas might have come from for a young, unmarried woman driving cross-country toward a twist ending, and an abandoned amusement park haunted by Death. Having lived in Salt Lake City, where Carnival of Souls (1962) was filmed, I recognized a few locations immediately. Aside from Saltair (now a concert venue where I saw The Strokes and Third Eye Blind), there's the wall surrounding Temple Square, the most historic tourist attraction downtown, where the main character gets "ignored" by a cop. There's also a scene in the park at City Hall when she passes out, right at the corner where my wife and I used to go for bubble tea. I can't help but wonder, was the idea for a job as a church organist was inspired by the Salt Lake Tabernacle pipe organ? The "theater" organ she's hired to play (pictured below) is minuscule in comparison to the Tabernacle's, but apparently it's capable of sounding creepier. Forget the familiar story that gets recycled in Carnival of Souls because the movie's really more about imagery and a particular point in pop culture. Stained glass windows and big, empty, old cathedrals have scared me since John Carpenter's Prince of Darkness (1987) but here, church and recreation come together in a dreamlike danse macabre. 1962 marked the "death" of the Golden Age of Radio with the final broadcast of one of its most popular programs, Suspense (1942). Whether the "TV generation" needed more sights than sounds to be horrified, or whether this transition gets indirectly referenced in Carnival of Souls is my own conjecture. The rise of TV was blamed for a lot of things, including the closure of the Saltair Pavilion. When the main character is unable to find anything on the radio but old-timey gospel music, it could just be to create atmosphere. Then again, it could be signifying the "death" of an era - the switch from swing dances to counterculture peace rallies, poodle skirts to mini skirts and "The Greatest Generation" to the baby boomers. After all, if teenage drag racers weren't hallucinating zombies before Carnival of Souls, they certainly were after JFK's assassination the next year or the increased draft to Vietnam the year after that.
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