December 15, 2025

Review of The Ghost (1963)

Lo Spettro movie poster featuring Barbara Steele

Contains Spoilers

The Ghost (1963) is not a movie to be watched in the background. This Italian film is full of twists and turns that require the viewer's full attention, and sometimes more. There are parts of this film I'm still not sure I understood, and in the end everything sort of starting jumbling together to create a messy glob of plot points. 

That being said, this movie falls into one of my favorite hyperspecific movie genres: mid-century B-Movie that is just really weird and fucked up.

I watched The Ghost free on Tubi. The title screen and credits were in English, and the actors appeared to also be speaking English, although it may have been Italian, such is the nature of the movie poster and the possibly-dubbed dialogue. The subtitles were in Spanish, and it all bounced back to Tubi-generated English subtitles that were only partially correct, and frequently messed with pronouns and grammar. 

We set the scene on Scotland, 1910, a location that is English-speaking. There is a heavy thunderstorm, and the picture is full of shadows that obscure faces, making characters and surroundings hard to recognize. The opening scene is possibly a seance, or what may be an exorcism of an older woman who is babbling incoherently and moving strangely. We never learn this woman's name. She is revealed as alive halfway through the movie, living in some other part of the house. That's the last time we see her.

John is an older man who is under the care of his in-home doctor Charles. They already have a strange relationship, as John is, or was, also a doctor. Charles seems to be performing some kind of medical experiment on him wherein he poisons him, waits for it to take effect, then quickly gives him the antidote. The nature of the poison is unknown, but Charles swears that this method is slowly enabling John to recover.

Enter Margaret, Charles' wife. She's dressed elaborately in period clothes, still sporting the iconic 1960s blue eyeshadow and perfect beehive. She denies it, but John is quick to figure out that she is having an affair with Charles, meeting him secretly in the greenhouse of this beautiful gothic mansion. It's implied that Margaret doesn't really love John. She didn't have a penny when she married, and of course came into all this wealth afterwards. 

Margaret and John

In the greenhouse, we learn that Charles and Margaret are plotting to kill John. Margaret wants Charles to hurry up the process, and when he is hesitant, she threatens to take matters into her own hands. This brings us into my favorite scene of the movie. 

A beautiful lullaby plays from John's music box as he's in his wheelchair by the window, alone with Margaret. She is getting the blade ready to shave his face with--the audience knows she will kill him, but John doesn't. He simply reminisces on the days when they were in love, Margaret holding a blade to his throat. This music echoes throughout the movie, and I genuinely cannot convey how much I feel in love with this waltz. It makes the movie, truly. 

The next day, the priest visits John. Evidently, John has been doing some seances that the priest doesn't approve of. I really appreciate the attention to detail here, although I do feel like they could have made a bigger mention of his hobby as a sort of foreshadowing of his intentions. John tells the priest that he knows the plot Margaret and Charles are taking out on him, but the priest does not believe him. Sure enough, Charles poisons him as is routine, and refuses him the antidote, killing him. 

Margaret and Charles have carried out their agenda, and finally are lovers. Then, the haunting begins. The dark lighting and well placed shadows return, and the service bell John used to call the maid rings, but no one is there--John is dead. This is upsetting to Margaret, much more so than it is to Charles. Outside, a dog barks relentlessly, and Margaret snaps, handing Charles a pistol and ordering him to make it stop. Charles hesitates, then shoots the dog. Although I never, ever watch a movie where a dog dies, I didn't turn the movie off. Luckily, although the dog does make some pitiful sounds, it is never in sight, alive or dead. This does its job in marking the descent into madness.  

Later, in the daylight, the priest visits the mansion for the reading of the will. Just before he died, John had called on him to make changes to the will. These changes dictate that Margaret and Charles must both continue to live in the house after his death. However, two thirds of the fortune expected to be left to Margaret was donated to the orphans, leaving her with one third of what she married into. And boy, does that upset her.

In order to secure and divide the fortune legally, Charles and Margaret must locate the key to John's safe. When they fail to find it in front of the crowd, they plan with each other to find it that night, secretly, and take off with the money. Only, they don't find it. Katherine, the quiet servant that only makes one or two appearances in the first parts of the movie, mentions to Margaret that the key may be in the pocked of John's suit jacket--the one they buried him in. 

Cue the music box playing on its own--Margaret smashes it in rage.

Here is where we really begin. Together, Margaret and Charles enter the crypt where John is buried. They pry open his casket, revealing a decaying corpse, and Charles reaches in and locates the key in his suit pocket. At this point I'm only wondering, why couldn't they have picked the lock, if they were going to make a run for it anyway? They return to the main house and try the key. The safe is empty.

John then appears to Margaret alone in her bedroom, peeking through her bed curtains. It's the same vision of his decaying corpse she saw in his coffin. What's interesting about this is that is isn't a jump scare. The whole thing happens slowly, and the corpse lingers for an uncomfortably long time. Naturally, Margaret shoots at it. 

The next time John's corpse appears it is only to Charles, who finds him hanging ceiling. The irrelevance of this graphic image is striking. He never hanged, nor did he drip blood from a mysterious source onto the floor as he hanged. The face he's making is cartoonish--it's the very thing you imagine a hanging looking like when you're five years old. 

After these encounters, the framing of the movie is suddenly much lighter. There are fewer shadows, it's more often daylight, and there's a beautiful view of the beach. This is reflective of Charles and Margaret's relationship at the time--although they are haunted, they are in it together and still in love. The priest bursts this bubble quickly. He becomes suspicious of Charles living there during Margaret's time of supposed grief when Margaret misses her own husband's funeral.

She resolves to visit his grave by herself in full mourning attire and lovely clashing red roses. Kneeling in front of his grave--where he is not buried, because he is in a crypt--she hears the slow melody of the music box. It begins to follow her, and only she can hear it. 

The dark lighting returns, as does the thunderstorm mirroring that of the first scene, signaling that the climax is approaching. Charles and Margaret are in the mansion when the classic haunting begins. Curtains whisp, the chandelier swings, and objects smash for no reason. Margaret is visibly much more affected than Charles. She quickly becomes suspicious that he stole the money and planned to run off alone, without her. 

She finds something of John's that shows her the money may really be located under his grave. Alone and suspicious, she goes back into the crypt. I love the repeat of this scene, in a completely different context. Still in the search for the money, but no longer trusting Charles and having to act on her own. She cuts her hand over something unidentifiable placed on his casket--it was too dark to tell what it was. And still, there was no money. 

Dejected, she goes back into the mansion and finds that Charles, embarrassed by the priest, is packing his bags to leave. Margaret tips over a bag--it is completely filled with bills. Charles swears he doesn't know where they came from, that he loves her, he did not steal the money, and she doesn't believe him. She stabs him several, several, several times and burns the body. Katherine, the servant, watches the entire thing.

Here's where it really gets going.

With the way things went, Margaret goes upstairs to her husband's bedroom and drinks the remainder of his poison, waiting for it to kick in and kill her. John then comes out of his secret room behind the bookshelf, alive, and tells her that in fact, she didn't drink poison. He switched the bottles around, and she actually drank a liquid that will paralyze her from the waist down. And by the way, he faked his death. 

John goes into a villainous monologue about what he plotted for Margaret. It was the maid, Katherine, who ran off with the money after all, not Charles. She killed him for no reason. When the maid enters the room and finds them, John thanks her for everything she did to try and prevent his murder, then promptly shoots her dead. He explains too Margaret that he had already called the police, and planned to frame Margaret for Katherine's murder. 

Victorious, smug, he takes a swig out of a bottle of gin. Margaret begins laughing hysterically--John had previously switched out all the liquids, and the "gin" he thought he drank was actually poison. He begged Margaret for the antidote, and she almost gives it to him, but drops it, spilling into the carpet. 

The police arrive, and in his final moments John slips back into his secret room to die, possibly for real. They find Margaret sitting in John's wheelchair over the maid's body and carry her out the door. Margaret laughs the whole way down. 

December 8, 2025

Thoughts on The Longest Journey

 

I recently finished The Longest Journey by E.M. Forster. The only other novel of his I had ever read was Maurice, which I picked up sometime in 2022 during my excursion with LGBTQ+ representation in period fiction. The Longest Journey was published in 1907 shortly after it was written, and it confirms all of my suspicions about Forster: he was absolutely brilliant, and not to mention hilarious.

The characters were incredibly real and convincing, and absurd at the same time, adding to the overall comedy of it. The beginning of the novel keeps you reading with its absurdity and wit, and the end of the novel keeps you reading like a train wreck you can't look away from.  

The themes of the novel are so intricately webbed together they form a beautifully complex story. In the very beginning, the main theme is introduced--the young boys at Cambridge argue about whether or not the cow is real. It's a horribly confusing argument that makes no sense from any direction. But over the course of the story it begins to make sense. This is an incredible part of our main character's (Rickie) arc--to him, the argument by his best friend Stewart Ansell is also absurd and confusing. But as things start happening to him, as he grows older, he begins to understand exactly what he means. 

In the beginning, Rickie has a black-and-white view of what is real and what isn't. Everything is real, because he is perceiving it, because it is tangible. He believes everything to be shallow and thus perceives all of these characters as who they are on the surface--he comes to understand their true depth along with the reader. Over the course of the plot, he is forced to discover for himself what is real and what isn't. He has to learn that the world is more complicated than he ever wanted it to be. 

Each character is carefully crafted and has a surface level that contrasts with their inner self. Stephen, who is revealed in the most chaotic way to be Rickie's half brother, is hard, callous, and pretty simple on the surface. However, he reveals himself to be proud and by far the most loving, caring person of them all. Agnes, Rickie's wife, seems sweet and lovely and proper, but really turns out to be vindictive, scheming, and controlling.  

Ansell is undoubtedly my favorite character in the novel. He is incredibly unconventional, and says anything he wants to at any point. His main value is keeping things real--he is honest to a fault, but only on the surface. Below the surface, he truly has a lot of feelings. He is brooding and nonchalant, pretending to brush things off but really letting everything sit until it all boils over. 

The relationship Ansell maintains with Rickie throughout the novel could be the subject of another complete essay. They're extremely complicated and care so deeply about each other. They are separated for the long middle portion of the novel. Rickie thought he could get married, thought he loved Agnes, but it turned out not to be real. He had manufactured his love for her just as she had manufactured an entire life for the two of them, which he quickly grows to resent. She took pains to shut out everything that was real to him in order to keep them both in their fantasy world of upper class perfection. Rickie had to make the decision between the perfect life he was faking and the flawed, complicated life that was true and real to him. This was the dichotomy of Agnes and Ansell, both representing different lives he could have. 

I thought at first that the ending was a little slow. After what seemed to be the climax, the falling action was extended and took up several years, but it proved to be worth it. It was a perfect setup for a more distant ending that tied things together and showed the reward, the ultimate payoff for Rickie choosing the cow that is real.  


December 1, 2025

Letting My Third Draft Become a First Draft

Burnt by a Million Stars Revision Process

Full disclosure, a lot of my exercises in this process were taken from The Weekend Novelist by Robert J. Ray, which has become a new bible for me while drafting novels! It's an incredible weekend-oriented program, but I personally prefer to take my time and complete milestones as they come. This is my number one recommended book on writing!
 
I started my first draft of Burnt by a Million Stars in early 2020, still in my freshman year of high school and right at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. It was a huge comfort to me at the time, and I finished my first draft at the end of that spring. By the end of the year, I finished my second draft and filed this novel away for good. I went on to write my magnum opus, my favorite so far, Spoils of the Dead
 
After finishing this, I started my current nightmare, Marionette, and became stuck on it for years, to the point of burnout. Finally, I decided to file this one away as well until I had a better understanding of what I wanted out of the plot. In the meantime, I decided to craft a third and final draft of this long-time novel of mine. Burnt by a Million Stars started out as a simple romance and evolved into something more. Going deeper into it, exploring the characters and myself, they took me to places I never thought they would go. It had been four or five years, and factoring in my experiences in those years made all the difference. I'm a different writer now, and therefore I cannot write the same book again. 
 
All that being said, here's the transformation journey as of the time I've finished the outline of my now-first draft! I plan to write through December and have a full draft by the new year. 

Mind Map

My most difficult part of doing a mind map in writing is where to start. Here, I had just finished reading through the most recent draft from the end of 2020 and found that the number of ghosts in this novel were far fewer than the number of ghosts I prefer in my novels!! So I started with a mind map of the primary kind of haunting in this first iteration, which was the shadow hand of a woman. 

What I've found about this exercise is that it helps tremendously to generate new haunting elements, symbolism, new settings, and even some playlist ideas!

Wants Lists

Next, I created wants lists for each of my characters in order to give all of them an agenda. Luckily, I already had a lot of information to work with, including all the character notes and possible additional wants and motivations from the other drafts. A lot of times this won't be the case when starting new, and that can be an issue! The hardest part of writing is making shit up. 

Aristotle's Incline

Aristotle's Incline is a simple, linear version of your plot outline that highlights the six key scenes: the opening image, plot point one, midpoint, plot point two, catharsis, and wrap-up scene. The advice written in the book includes making a list of any possible scenes that could be in your novel, determined by the kind of character and plot arcs you're working with. 

I had to adapt this for a third draft, which of course was fairly simple as I already had pretty much all of the scenes I would need. So, I made a brief list of each scene in the novel and chose the six that I believed to work for each key scene. Even though I had my outline, I still ended up moving my catharsis scene to plot point two in order to make room for a completely new catharsis scene that better aligned with the challenges and goals in the new version of the novel. It's all adaptable, always.  

 Reworking Key Scenes

My usual process for reworking and revising scenes had to make a huge shift here. Because everything was so different, including my word count goal, writing style, and even the plot itself, I scrapped most of the original scenes. I read through them each, highlighting in prominent colors the specific passages I wanted to keep and worked them in as I completely restructured the scenes. 

The main things I included in working these scenes were keeping the setting limited, working in symbolism and background descriptors, giving the characters actions, and including the climax of each scene. What I noticed about my scene list from the previous draft was that there were over 60 different scenes in a 70,000 word novel, which means my characters were jumping around a lot. A lot of these location changes/scene changes had no real purpose, didn't move the plot forward, and had no climax. In fact, a lot of them were even hard to describe in my scenes list because essentially nothing of note happened. 

Additionally, each scene was so short because they were suffering from a blank background and total lack of objective. They were doing nothing! They had no main actions, no real goals in the scenes. Adding new objectives for each scene made a tremendous, immediate difference. Actions are so important for your characters, even if it's as simple as washing the dishes. The more human you could possible make them, the better. Readers need to feel they can connect with your characters, and the most important part of that is putting them in average, human situations. 

Linking Key Scenes Together

This was basically just a loosely put together list of scenes that linked each of the key scenes to one another. It seemed a little trivial at the time, but proved to be super helpful for the outlining process, even if it was just random little ideas for scenes that would fit in the middle.

Outlining

The final and longest part of this process was the full outline of my draft. Although I had plotted with Aristotle's Incline, I found that it loosely fits into the structure of the Save the Cat beat sheet by Blake Snyder. What I love to work out of is the book Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody, which provides so many extra details and examples, and even examples of beat sheets that are genre specific. This is such a wonderful reference, even if it proves to be too detailed for some loose plotters or pantsers. It works wonderfully even as just a starting point. 

In total I ended up with thirty two chapters, which should hopefully land me somewhere over the 64,000 word mark. I start writing in December, and I can't wait!