SXSW Review: Feast on the Delights of High Fantasy in ‘The Spine of Night’
The Spine of Night is kind of film you would find on Adult Swim. In part because of its graphic animated violence, but also because of its niche, high-fantasy genre dealings that play well with late night audiences. As a highlight of this year’s SXSW film festival, Philip Gelatt’s and Morgan Galen King’s rotoscoped feature film leans hard into influences, pulling no punches when it come to its world building or sense of scope, and it’s precisely because of this commitment to the fantasy genre that The Spine of Night satisfies as much as it entertains.
This branching tale centers around Tzod, a witch of the sacred swamp lands whose home is burned to the ground by an imperialist lord. Around her neck hangs a wreath of blue flowers that are capable of untold powers. Said flowers descended from ancient gods long before Tzod’s time, but within their petals contain knowledge beyond understanding, power too much for any one human to possess alone. When those flowers fall into the hands of academic scholar Ghal-Sur, the realm plunges into darkness as he uses his ill-gotten abilities to conquer towns and cities and bringing death and destruction in his wake. Chronicled by the collective efforts of a select few, the land tries to restore balance by bringing an end to the reign of a maniacal zealot hell bent on becoming a god.
Tzod may anchor the film, but much of the film roams about, going from one region to the next, using a flashback narrative to focus on new supporting characters and their efforts to protect their land from evil. Tzod converses with The Guardian, the sole knight tasked with protecting the remaining source of blue flower known to humankind, from atop a mountain where they discuss the ascent of Ghal-Sur, affording the film opportunities to tell mini tales of bravery, honor, self-sacrifice, and cosmic origin. One instance will tell the heroics of three heralds dressed like birds who go on a suicide run to stop flying steam punk bombers that rain fire from above. Another will find two friends coming together after their city was sacked, staring up at the stars and speculating beautifully about their destined fates. And another will depict an honorable scholar defending a great library from revolting populous deprived of food by their tyrannical king.
All of this is condensed into just 93 minutes, which, for a high fantasy epic, is not typical. It’s easy to get lost in the weeds with The Spine of Night, to succumb to the lore and try to trace every single name and historical plot point, but to do so would be an instance of not seeing the forrest for the trees. These metaphorical ‘trees’ are just characters in a larger story arc, contributing thematic and narrative anecdotes to the larger world the film is building. Focusing on any one character won’t yield the sort of gratification afforded from something like the lengthy The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Instead, the merit lies in the bigger picture.
The Spine of Night’s ambitions largely rest on this. Fortunately, in addition to its expansive tales, it also features a thorough supporting art direction. A medieval aesthetic that resembles The Witcher or Elder Scrolls series sets the baseline for the film, giving familiar definition to character garbs and the architecture of castles and homesteads. The injection of ancient runes and legendary gods are where the more creative design elements come into play as statues, artifacts, scriptures, and inexplicable magical powers cultivate the mythic aura of gods in a world of humans. Plus, the film makes gleeful use of graphic gore and violence at every turn, giving the realm a pervasive macabre element that is suitable for the “ooo’s” and “ahhh’s” of a midnight crowd.
The multitude of inputs deployed to create a convincing world is perhaps The Spine of Nights greatest strength. In short order, an entire high fantasy tale is told with convincing ease, but what I appreciated the most about The Spine of Night is its address towards the perennial conflicts of the genre. The compulsive desire for power, the all-consuming battle over it, the inherent battle of good versus evil, the legendary mythicism of heroes rising to the occasion. It all flows like a well tuned tale of swords and sorcery that I imagine would make for one glorious D&D game. If nothing else, it certainly makes for one helluva movie.
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