Now – in fairness to all involved – I’ve generally avoided reviewing a great number of short films over the years mostly because of the bad experiences I’ve had with so many. While a good portion of them have been exceptionally well made, I’ve still encountered more than a bit of difficulty in truly understanding what all of the fuss was about as far too many nebulous endings have left me scratching my head. The concepts have been acceptable, but I’ve more often than not found myself lost in translation from what was conceived to what was ultimately delivered. As such, I’ve accepted that they’re just not the kind of stories I – as a consumer – choose to invest my time in; and I’ve left it at that.
Still, I’ve kept my eyes open for something ‘a bit more than usual,’ and I’m glad to report that 2023’s To Fire You Come At Last really is deliciously exquisite. While certainly not for everyone – it’s a bit talky and perhaps a bit more atmospheric than some might have patience for – this dastardly little haunt comes from the mind of writer/director Sean Hogan, offering up a slim cast of Mark Carlisle, Harry Roebuck, Richard Rowden, James Swanton, and Stephen Smith in roles. Billed chiefly as a Folk Horror, the flick was passed on to me by the good people at Severin Films as part of the late-2024 release All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Vol. 2, a massive collection I’ll be making my way through over the next few days and weeks.
Frankly, I’m surprised that Severin chose to open this new collection with a short film; and yet I also believe that speaks volumes to their trust in it. Hogan’s tale is, ultimately, very lean, but I think it capably demonstrates what makes ‘folk’ such a unique spin on traditional Horror. Like it or not, this subgenre is here to stay, just as are the many spirits that might be haunting that treacherous walking path through the forest late every night …
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the short film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In 17th-century England, men carry a coffin to a graveyard after dark, facing superstitions and unexpected revelations along the way. Squire Marlow, the deceased's father, offers double wages to motivate them to make the eerie journey.”
The general weakness of short films is that they generally have to maintain laser-sharp focus on one idea for the duration of their running time.
That said, such attention can be a bit exhausting. Storytellers (in the modern era) aren’t exactly adept at wringing excessive content while exploring a single direction; as such, the narrative might wind up feeling more like a narrator banging on a drum instead of creating a noteworthy piece of music enjoyed by wider audiences. Also, it isn’t as if there are a great many actors and actresses in which to hide greater thematic nuance: the casts of these independent shorts tends to be very, very, very small, making it doubly important that anything and everything said, shot, and shown serve some purpose. Such attention to detail can be off-putting for both the makers and the watchers, and the market for such output remains understandably small.
To Fire You Come At Last is a rare exception.
Squire Marlow (played by Mark Carlisle) wishes to see his deceased son Aldis (Stephen Smith) laid to rest in the proper cemetery; and he’s conscripted Holt (Harry Roebuck), Pike (Richard Rowden), and Ransley (James Swanton) to join him as pallbearers. Rather late in the day, the four set out on their short journey, one that grows increasingly longer as the road less traveled on foot turns out to offer spectral haunts that plague them at every turn. What each of them thought to be local superstition turns out to be a grim reality.
Artistically, To Fire might be one of the better short films I’ve ever seen. Captured in stark black-and-white, it at times feels like a throwback to the days when features were built on the bones of good writing, both in circumstance and character. Not long after the late afternoon opening, the audience accompanies the four men and their coffin – their burden, as it were – into the twilight; and before long all of us are plunged into complete and utter darkness of the 17th century. Quite literally, nothing can be seen beyond the light of a lantern; and this ambiance not only twists the focus visually back on these respective players but also has them and us questioning what might be waiting for them beyond the decreasing field of light.
To accomplish this, Hogan filmed this in relative close-ups, cleverly amplifying the sense of claustrophobia as the night wears on, eventually evoking a layer of madness to the procedure that infects his cast of characters one by one. Despite the loss of sight, it becomes increasingly clear that secrets are being disclosed – at first by casual chatter but then by a written deathbed confession – and there’s little doubt that these four men were perhaps doomed from the very first step they took in unison. It’s a grim affair, but Hogan tells it rather vividly for those of us who appreciate the written word when grafted onto true character actors.
“What about this makes it Folk Horror?” you might ask.
From what I’ve learned (in a modest bit of research), back in the day it wasn’t uncommon for cemeteries to be set on the outskirts of towns and villages. In lieu of hosting services in a church or at the gravesites, families would often use their own home, offering the opportunity for friends and other members of the community to show their respects in the dwelling where they knew the deceased best. Afterwards, the coffin would necessarily be carted out by pallbearers to the final resting place; and – as you can imagine – it wasn’t long before tales suggesting the spirits of the departed walking in communion with the living sprang up involving these storied paths. This is the backdrop for a good deal of To Fire’s primary action; and, thus, that’s about a Folk Horror as one could get.
To Fire You Come At Last (2023) was produced by Severin Films. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has also been coordinated by Severin. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure you that the sights and sounds to the production are fabulous: I’ve rarely seen so much effective nighttime cinematography, and this one looks great at all points. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts an audio commentary (it’s very good, but it’s occasionally hard to hear a third person who was seated a bit back from the microphone), a short film, and a few other niceties that do make for an entertaining evening. Well done here, folks.
Highly Recommended.
Shorts films have their own challenges, and a limited focus of ideas sometimes hamstrings even a good effort, with talented mythmakers never knowing how to best tread lightly when what works best are the reliable standbys of characters coming to life organically. To Fire You Come At Last works, chiefly, because Hogan and company know where they began and never lose sight on where they’re heading even in darkness. What remains is a great little ditty that reminds us life sometimes comes with a price attached: if you’re not careful, then you’ll be asked to settle your tab … even at the cost of your mortal soul.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary copy of To Fire You Come At Last (2023) – as part of their All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Vol. 2 – by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ