Thunder and the House of Magic is an animated film that tells the story of a little ginger cat named Thunder who finds himself abandoned and lost in the woods. He stumbles upon a mysterious old mansion, which turns out to be a magical home for retired animals. In the house, Thunder meets an eclectic ensemble of characters, including Jack the rabbit, Maggie the mouse, and other animals, each with their own unique personalities and abilities. Together, they form a family and work together to protect their home from harm. The main idea of Thunder and the House of Magic is the power of unity and the importance of finding a place where you truly belong. Thunder, a lonely cat, not only finds a new family among the animals but also discovers his own courage and bravery in defending their home.
Bailey's translations—the four texts described above, as well another descriptive text, "The Vauderie of Lyons," and materials from two witch trials—constitute the major narrative sources for the emergence of an idea of conspiratorial witchcraft in a single decade of the fifteenth century. In the General Introduction Bailey delineates the key elements in common among his translated sources on the witches' sabbath as demonic assemblies, night flight and nighttime revels, entering the Devil's service, infanticide and cannibalism, and sex with the Devil. The first translation, Report on [End Page 430] Witchcraft in Valais, by Lausanne chronicler Hans Fründ is an account of reported witch trials and executions that began around 1428 in the diocese of Sion. Fründ's report is unique among these sources in mentioning witch lycanthropy. For the next source, Claude Tholosan's So That the Errors of Magicians and Witches . . . , Bailey translates only the most relevant section (the first third of the text) as it alone narrates the diabolical actions of witch assemblies. A secular lawyer in Dauphiné, Tholosan is mainly concerned that witch prosecution should fall under his own jurisdiction. He presents witches as foreign to the region of Briançon, hence he seeks to persuade society that those folks who are consulted for healing or necromancy are part of a vast yet clandestine demonic network. The third work, Errors of the Gazarii, was long thought to be an anonymous work although Swiss historian Martine Ostorero has recently argued that Ponce Feugeyron is the likely author. Derived from a general term for criminals or heretics (gazarii), Errors describes the diabolical transgressions committed at the sabbath and cites avarice and cupidity as major motivations for joining a witch's sect. Next comes a selection of translations from books 2 and 5 of Johannes Nider's Anthill (Formicarius written 1438, printed 1475). This diffuse treatise includes both new (in the fifteenth century.
These important works by both secular and ecclesiastical authorities offer varying perspectives; the idea of the sabbath lacks the uniformity seen in witchcraft treatises of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. In the General Introduction Bailey delineates the key elements in common among his translated sources on the witches sabbath as demonic assemblies, night flight and nighttime revels, entering the Devil s service, infanticide and cannibalism, and sex with the Devil.
Thunder, a lonely cat, not only finds a new family among the animals but also discovers his own courage and bravery in defending their home. The ensemble of characters in the film adds depth and charm to the story. Each animal brings something special to the table, whether it's Jack's quick thinking and resourcefulness, Maggie's intelligence and problem-solving skills, or the other animals' various talents.
Witches, Artists, and Pandemonium in Hereditary
I had been sitting in a lovesick fog, waiting to see Ari Aster’s Hereditary, ever since I first heard about it. I don’t usually follow new movie releases too closely, but I found out about the movie back in January, when people at the Sundance Film Festival lost their minds about how good it was. As soon as I saw the words The Exorcist and The Shining attached to the film’s publicity materials, I knew I had to see it.
I spent six agonizing months memorizing its trailers, watching YouTube fan movies (and considering making my own), talking to my friends about it until they began rolling their eyes, and dreaming about its possible endings. I fell madly in love with the idea of what it could be and what it might do to my imagination. For a poet, this is a movie’s greatest gift.
The film came out on June 8, and I’ve already seen it twice. The first time, I saw it only through my fingers. I kept my hands plastered on my face, trying to avoid any jump scares (something I wish I had done when I first saw The Shining nearly twenty years ago and the ghost of room 237 began her lifelong emblazonment on my psyche). The second time, I wrote notes in a green notebook in the dark, scribbling half-words that I can barely read now. It reminded me of the way I first started writing poems in the darkness of my bedroom when I was a little girl.
After so much anticipation, it is only natural that I am not exactly sure how I feel about the movie. The biggest problem with Hereditary is that it isn’t actually a horror movie at all. Or at least what we think a horror movie should be. If you are looking for blood and gore, you may be disappointed. If you go into the movie expecting to not be able to sleep for weeks, you might be disappointed then, too. I had hoped for those things. During these awful times we need some form of catharsis from our art. I went in looking for some sort of psychic salvation, the sort that only horror movies can give. As any horror movie lover knows, watching people be hunted and killed by ghosts and monsters can provide the necessary hyperbole to our reality-based fears. Which, if you are living and conscious in the world today, are currently quite overwhelming.
Hereditary billed itself as a film about the legacy of the devil, but it isn’t really about demons at all. It’s about what people do when they feel life is pointless. It’s about where you go after you realize that all those who are supposed to keep you safe (your parents, your government, your police force, your employers, your school, your places of worship) have not only failed you, but have been plotting all along for your demise. It’s a deeply paranoid movie, which is its own kind of horror. Real horror. The devils in the movie are the ones we know are actually there, waiting in the dark. They’re us.
It seems clear that Hereditary is an extremely feminist movie, but what its message is, I am not sure. The evil runs through the matriarchal line and so does the power. The women in the film are the architects of the downfall of the Graham family. They include Ellen Graham, the grandmother who has recently died from a protracted illness and has Dissociative Identity Disorder, Annie, the mother (Toni Colette) and a professional miniaturist, and Charlie, the daughter (Milly Shapiro) who also makes figurines. The lead male characters, like the son Peter (Alex Wolff), and the long-suffering husband, Steve (Gabriel Brye), are extraordinarily flat characters. Peter is a typical stoner teenager, with no real interests other than getting high and staring at girls’ butts in class. Steve is pretty good at sighing a lot and going along with the tragic events of the film, but doesn’t seem to have any say in what happens to his family or even himself. The men in Hereditary are always there, but they are not really there. Lost and vacuous, they populate the movie as effortlessly as Toni’s miniature scenes and Charlie’s figurines. Everything male in the film exists simply as accessories to a great female-focused design.
Hereditary is really about the power of art-making, and the movie’s artists are all female. Their artwork is craft-based, works that have long been associated with female labor. Ellen Graham (perhaps named after the socialite photographer) knits beautifully creepy welcome mats for her family and cult family members. Annie has enjoyed some commercial success with her miniature work (a NYC art gallery is hounding her to finish her work for an upcoming gallery show). She uses her tableaus to control the traumatic events of her life. It’s reminiscent of the poet Susan Stewart, who wrote that a “miniature offers a world clearly limited in space but frozen” or “a materialized secret.” Annie’s daughter, Charlie, makes terrifying and fascinating “dolls” out of found objects, most of these objects being the heads of dead animals. In the movie, the females are the true masterminds, who attempt to control life and death, and conjure only as real artists know how to.
And yet, unfortunately, the depiction of female witches in Hereditary tends towards the cliché. Witchcraft is demonized, and the witches represent our fear of anyone not practicing the one, maybe two, organized religions that we have deemed acceptable in this country. Joanie and her kindred use magick to conjure knowledge and wealth for themselves and kill several people in the process—the ultimate capitalistic act. The movie’s depiction of them is tied to America’s long history of persecuting women for witchcraft, such as in the Salem witch trials. Aster plays on our fears that the secretive rituals of women are always about evil, but many witches today practice in the occult world so as to help heal people. (Check out Mya Spalter’s new book, Enchantments, to find out more.) I’d love to watch a movie by Aster about good witches one day. That is, if he’s into that.
The great female American poet and witch Joni Mitchell sends us off after the movie’s wild last scene (a scene you are sure to remember for at least the rest of your life.) As the credits roll, Both Sides Now blasts and, as in Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling, we are forced to reconcile how we feel about people sacrificing everything to a god (or in this case, a demon). It’s love’s illusions I recall/ I really don’t know love/ At all …
Dorothea Lasky is the author of Milk (Wave Books, 2018). Her poem “A Hospital Room,” appeared in our Spring 2018 issue.
Dorothea Lasky is the author of Milk (Wave Books, 2018). Her poem “A Hospital Room,” appeared in our Spring 2018 issue.
Together, they create a dynamic and entertaining group that viewers can't help but root for. Additionally, the magical setting of the old mansion adds an enchanting element to the film. With hidden rooms, secret passages, and whimsical surprises, the house becomes a character in itself. The stunning animation brings the house to life, immersing viewers in a world of wonder and adventure. Overall, Thunder and the House of Magic ensemble provides a heartwarming and fun-filled experience for audiences of all ages. The film reminds us that family can be found in the most unexpected places, and that unity and teamwork can conquer any challenge..
Reviews for "The Emotional Depth of the "Thunder and the House of Magic" Cast"
1. Sarah - 2/5 stars
I watched "Thunder and the house of magic ensemble" with high hopes, but I was quite disappointed. The storyline felt disjointed and lacked depth. The characters were one-dimensional and had very little development. The jokes felt forced and fell flat most of the time. Overall, I found the movie to be boring and forgettable.
2. Mark - 1/5 stars
I couldn't wait for "Thunder and the house of magic ensemble" to end. The animation was mediocre at best, and the characters were unappealing. The plot was predictable and lacked any originality. The dialogue was cliché and uninspiring. I wouldn't recommend wasting your time on this movie.
3. Emily - 2/5 stars
"Thunder and the house of magic ensemble" was a big disappointment for me. The animation was lovely, but that's where the positives end. The plot was thin and lacked any excitement or surprises. I found myself uninterested in the characters' fates and disengaged from the story. It's a forgettable movie that I wouldn't recommend to others.
4. David - 2/5 stars
I had high hopes for "Thunder and the house of magic ensemble" based on the trailer, but the movie didn't live up to my expectations. The characters were hollow and uninteresting, and the story lacked any real depth. The humor was childish and didn't appeal to me as an adult viewer. It's a forgettable film that failed to leave a lasting impression.