Friday night. A night of pagan spectacle on the hallowed grounds of the world's largest gothic revival cathedral. The Halloween Extravaganza at the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine is the perfect juxtaposition of seemingly heathen behavior in holy land, creating an ambience of awe and mild delinquency for this temporary tresspass of the dead. Though the association makes perfect sense, not all Christian establishments are so quick to embrace their pagan roots. So, what better way to celebrate Hallows Eve than by pushing, or temporarily obliterating, boundaries?
For me, there is no better way. It is a night of imagining. The cathedral's architecture, its dizzying height and dramatic arches, displaces you upon entrance. (You're not in Harlem anymore.) The atmosphere is thick with fog and misty green spotlights. The film (Nosferatu, 1922) induces nostalgia and the spirit of another time, while the silent genre requires some creativity in interpreting plot and character. The Aeolin-skinner Great Organ's accompaniment to the film is both morbid and threatening, in accordance with the moves of the vampire. Played by Tim Brumfield, the score does, however, have its humorous moments, keeping in tune with the more melodramatic scenes; scenes belonging to that long lost time when expressive acting made up for the lack of total sensory bombardment with which some modern films now provide us.
Screen hovering over the choir where Nosferatu was shown.
Underneath is the "gateway" of the dead and the living.
After the screening, loud banging echoed throughout the cathedral. This summoned the ghouls, who passed under a gate at the apse to temporarily transition from purgatorial places to the awaiting audience. Intricate, other-wordly, and walking at the speed of the dead to the continuing sounds of a haunting organ, demons, skeletons, even creatures emerging from what seemed like the depths of the sea made their way down the entirety of the choir then into the nave, scattering among the witnesses, toying and frightening.
To the left is a terrifying giant bobbling baby head creature.
A puppet skeleton was raised midway through the procession and billowed over the trancept, while a giant spider hovered over the cathedral doors, just below the Rose window, threatening the exit. Towards the end of the march, when the last ghoul had passed under the transitional arch, the organ shed its minor chords for a sunnier When the Saints Go Marching In, ending on a less harrowing note.
If you missed the show this year, I hope you will consider attending next year (and ordering your tickets early, it did sell out). The cathedral will again be embracing its Celtic origins for the upcoming holiday season, when it will hold its annual Winter Solstice Concert (Paul Winter's 29th Annual Winter Solstice Celebration.)
But more on that next month. I'm still basking in autumn.
1 comments:
I went to this a few years ago - they were showing the Phantom of the Opera - and really enjoyed it. Only thing is I remember the chairs being horribly uncomfortable. The best part was the Procession of Ghouls or whatever it's called. That bobble-headed baby IS really disturbing!!
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